Dear Reader:

There's nothing like college football to get you in the mood for fall.   Actually, the fact that I wrote that sentence makes me laugh because, well,  I am clearly not a huge football fan.   I am mostly indifferent and occasionally concerned about concussions and such, but I am susceptible to the enthusiasm that I saw in the crowds of my little college's first football game of the season this afternoon.  And, our college marching band made its debut today.   I am so happy for the students and their director (my colleague).   It was a success and the students were, deservedly, proud.

I took my kids along to the game and tried to explain to them the basic rules of football.  This is also hilarious, as I am clearly not at all qualified to be doing this.  But, I'm not completely oblivious to what happens on the field.  I spent a lot of time talking about the score (which was decidedly in our favor!) and the scoreboard and how points are achieved.   My kids asked lots of great questions.

This, of course, led me to thinking about a conversation that I had with a philosopher friend (I may have mentioned that I have several philosopher friends, folks, and extolled the virtues of having such people on hand to untangle some philosophical issues).   She mentioned that there is a philosopher that she knows that has done some work on the concept of friendship and that her idea is that true, morally/ethically accountable friendship is a relationship without a scorecard.   Nobody is keeping track of debts or grievances.   There is no sense that, if a person "messes up" or "does a favor," there needs to be recompense.   Of course, this does seem to be ideal.   And, I have experienced this type of relationship several times in my life.   It seems to me to be a wonderful model for romantic relationships as well (I don't know from experience, clearly, since most of my romantic relationships have been incipient and not fully formed).   What freedom it is to know that you can ask for help or forgiveness from someone and be assured that they "know" you on a level that looks past or through or into your flaws and faults to the person that you are on an essential level and that they give to or forgive that person freely.    And, that you are able to do the same for them.   But, yes, HOW HARD THAT LAST PART IS.   Whew.   I think it might be the work of a lifetime.   But, to be able to do that for someone else.  Wow.  What kind of gift that would be for you, yourself in addition to them...

We all keep too many scorecards, don't we?   It's hard not to - when we are hurt or angry or embarrassed or ashamed.   Sigh.   Life is hard.   My son said, offhand the other day - "Mama, there is nothing gooder than being alive.  But, we are only alive for a little bit, so we shouldn't fight about things."   Yes, indeed, sweetie.  You have it right.

Anyway, I want to start throwing away my scorecards with people.   I know that I won't have deep friendships or connections with everyone, but the potential is always there, if I'm not too busy expecting things from people (expectations are hard task-masters, that's for sure - and the things that make for the greatest disappointments in life).   And, maybe others will not be willing to throw their scorecards away because they are trying to protect themselves and maybe that means that the possibility for truth between two people (whoever they are) can only bear fruit if both people are willing to throw the scorecards away for that minute or an hour or a year or for scores of years.   Or, maybe we have to keep throwing the cards away when we start noticing that we are keeping them.   I like the idea that we can always make a choice even when we've made the opposite choice in the past.

Ah,  I'm rambling again tonight.   You know, dear reader, that I like to ramble.   And, I'm sure you are very generously throwing away that score card about how many philosophical rambles I have taken on this page.   :)

I've been to a couple of funerals in recent days, and I outlined my feelings about my teacher's memorial concert here on this blog recently.   And, for some reason, my kids have recently been asking some (again) great questions about death and life and reincarnation and God (and his/her gender).   My kids are teaching me to revisit these important questions and helping me to focus my thoughts about them.   Thanks, L and C.   Another thing for me to be grateful about!   Because I was thinking about these great big questions again lately,  I listened to the last interview that Oliver Sacks gave on Radiolab.   As my dear readers may remember, I recently read Sacks' autobiography and his last essays in the NY Times where he shared candidly and beautifully his thoughts on his own upcoming death.   He died on August 30.   He wrote, apparently, right up to the end.   Several things will be published posthumously.

But, this radio interview was so poignant because he described two events that really resonated with me.   One was his work with a patient who had auditory hallucinations - she heard a woman's voice singing when there wasn't one.   She could sing the songs back to Dr. Sacks very accurately and he traced them back to a source of Irish folk songs in the late 1890's when the patient was born.  He told the woman (who was in her 90's), when she asked him, a little terrified, why she was having these hallucinations that he thought it might be possible that she, because of her brain injury/condition, may have developed a special ability to access memories from infancy and toddlerhood.   The woman had lost her mother at a very early age (before she could remember).   Dr. Sacks said that he thought it possible that her condition gave her an ability to hear her mother's voice singing to her.   He helped this patient to find comfort, instead of terror, in these auditory hallucinations.   She actually felt regret when her "condition" improved and she stopped hearing them.   I was so touched by the idea that Dr. Sacks was able to embrace the mystery of this condition and help this woman see that what made her afraid could actually be a comfort to her.    What a generous and loving act that was.

The other story that Dr. Sacks relayed was the story of his finding a life partner and companion at the age of 77.   He described falling in love two or three times earlier in life without any return of affection (he was kindly rejected once and cruelly rejected twice).   He had given up thoughts of having such a partner and was able to forgive freely and have rich and satisfying friendships with colleagues and students and others.   Then, he met his partner, the writer Billy Hayes at age 77.  What touches me about this was the way he described Billy revealing to him that he had "conceived a great love" for him.   He then realized that he, too, had conceived a great love.   At age 77.   He had five beautiful years with his partner.  That, my friends - in my book - is a lovely and wonderful testament that life is always surprising and that, if a person is dedicated and open and attentive to the wonderful experience of living,  one is never without potential in any area.   I like to think that Dr. Sacks' years of contemplation and medical work and friendship and writing would have ended with the same beautiful peace and presence at the end of his life, whether or not he had met his partner.   But, I will admit to being glad for him - someone that I know only through his lovely, candid and beautiful writing - that he did conceive that deep love.

Ah, I am way too philosophical tonight.   I am going to be making a score-card of sorts tomorrow by firing up my fitbit again and seeing if I can accomplish 10, 000 steps for at least 5 days in a row.   And, I am now going to listen, again, to this lovely piece (by Bach, a favorite of Dr. Sacks) that I used in Theory class on Friday.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=znfk7LRtg6Y

Peace to you and yours, dear reader.

Thanks for reading!