Am I Good Enough?

Me and Pat at The Cheesecake Factor, Philadelphia PA December 2019

Another Christmas has come and gone. 

Is it me or do they seem to come around each year with increasing frequency? The years do fly by don't they?

Last week I just returned from my annual winter visit to Philadelphia. Again, we had a grand time. When Pat and I get together for our quarterly adventures we always have a good time. A lot of that can be attributed to Pat because he is such good company and he is patient with me. And believe me I can be a chore to be with at times.

While we're in Philly we stay at the guest suite at my friend Don McK. cooperative. 

We visit with Don almost every day. Take in a few restaurants and go over all our physical ailments.  That's what old men do. We do this over a glass Don's apartment.

Our next trip comes around fast this time. Only six weeks away and we're in sunny Palm Springs. Normally we would be in Philly in the early part of November (my birthday) but the guest suite was booked up this year.

During these trips I occasionally think that for most of my adult life, when I did go on trips I traveled alone. Early on Bill went on a few trips with me but Bill doesn't like to travel. Bill is a homebody, not that there is anything the matter with that.  When I did manage to talk one of my friends to go with me on a trip, they took off as soon as we landed at our destination. They were more interested in casual sexual encounters than spending time with me.  I often assumed I wasn't good enough to spend time with.  Too boring. I can name names too.  Bob Murphy, Brad Corrill, Ed Cage and Bob McCamley. To a person, as soon as we landed in Provincetown, they were off in search of dick.  They're all gone now so I can speak ill of them. 

Other friends who I have suggested going with, never took my hint. What especially hurt one time was my friend Bob McCamley and his partner Jim were taking a cross country trip to California. Oh how I would have loved to go along. They wanted to see the tall redwood trees and Mount Rushmore. I suggested I could ride in the back seat of their very comfy Buick. They opted instead to put their black lab Lucky in that back seat.  Yes, they took their dog instead. I guess I wasn't good enough.  Too boring.

A former co-worker and friend is now traveling across the country. He retired early from his job after having made his millions before he was fifty years old. Several times I suggested that I would love to ride along. He never picked up on my suggestions.  Instead he sends me occasional texts with photos of his travels. Thanks Tom. I guess I'm not good enough

Growing up with a father who constantly belittled and humiliated me, I just assumed I wasn't good enough to be around proper company.  He never once took me to Cape May, New Jersey where he often went fishing with his brothers and, my cousin who just happened to be the same age as me.  Again, Ron wasn't good enough. That fact was ingrained in me because he never took me anywhere. Not even to a ball game (are you kidding?) or anything. That's why to this day I resent parents who go out of their way to attend their kid's soccer games or whatever.

In high school I was in a lot of activities.  I was in my high school marching band, concert band, chorus, school play, and track.  Never once, not once did he attend any of those activities. In fact no one in my family attended any of those events. When I graduated my Mother did attend my graduation. Perhaps the most painful and humiliating time for me was when I graduated from Basic Training at Ft. Dix New Jersey. I think every one of my fellow recruits had family members come from across the country to attend their graduation for Army Basic Training. But could my parents attend even though they were close by?  On no. To be fair they didn't attend my younger (middle) brother's graduation but they did attend my youngest brother's graduation.  Well, he was my father's pet. 

I don't remember if I wrote about this situation in my life before in this blog but I want to get it on the record before I pass on. As regular readers of my blog know, my blog writing is my therapy. Something which angers that troll who occasionally leaves a nasty comment (most of which I don't publish but I will begin publishing them because I feel sorry for her) when I write about my damaged upbringing. 

So many times during my teenage years then my adult years I envied those who had friends who they could go places with. Travel and other adventures.  What was I doing wrong? Not good enough. Boring. My father was right.

But then I met Pat. The last seven years have been a delight.  Pat is just about the perfect friend. He puts up with me which is no small thing. I admit I am not easy to get along with at times. But most of the time I think I'm good company. I've seen videos of myself and I look and act like a normal person. In fact, the first time I saw a video of myself I thought "He doesn't seem like a bad guy at all. I would like him."

I think the reason Pat and I get along so well is that we're a lot alike in personality. In fact we're so much alike people often mistake us for brothers.

The first time we were mistaken for brothers, we were both surprised because neither one of us think we look alike. Thus we were surprised when we were standing in line at the Nectar Restaurant in Lewes. Pat was talking to a fellow Canadian in line and the Canadian ask us "Are you brothers?"    That took us my surprise because neither one of us thinks the other looks like each other.

The next time we were asked if we were brothers was at the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles. A fellow tourist, after we were talking to him discussing the amazing views of downtown Los Angeles from the Observatory, "Are you brothers?"  We laughed and said "No, we're not brothers."  Noting the coincidence that two people from opposite sides of the country had mistaken us for brothers. 

Next year when were in Niagara Falls, entering an Indian restaurant, the owner of the restaurant, after doing a double take looking at us, asked "Are you brothers?"  Now this was getting serious. What was this all about?  Again, we answered in the negative.

Then, later in the week while we were walking down the street outside Pat's home in Toronto, he stopped to talk to a neighbor who asked about me "Is this your brother?"  

Okay, now this is getting to be a routine.  We've been asked this questions a few more times on our journeys.  Of course on this trip we were asked again, by a sales associate in a new building in which we wanted to look at a model condo. Yep, she asked "Are you brothers?"  Now I answer that Pat is my little brother.  Pat told her I was his uncle.  Seriously though, we told her we're often asked that question. But on this trip we got a new surprise, at the car rental counter, the sales clerk looked at me and then Pat and said "Are you twins?"  Well, that was a first.  

You know what folks?  I think I am good enough for Pat. And yes, he is my brother.