TITANIC MOMENTS

Luna Looks for Lifeboats

    To start, I want you to think about the Titanic, because every marriage, every relationship of any depth, has at least one Titanic moment.  You know what I mean.  That moment when it looks like the ship is going down, and you have to figure out if you can still find a lifeboat, if you’ll be getting on it alone, if you’ll stay and go down with the ship, together or apart, if you can save each other or if you’ll end up in the freezing waters.  

     One reason I married Steve was his reaction to Cameron’s movie, The Titanic, which we saw when we were dating.  As the ship went down, Steve make a ‘tsk’ sound and gestured impatiently toward the screen.  “Look at all that wood.  I’d have gotten us to a boat alive.”

   Knowing that about him, and considering other parts of the movie, is what shifted my thinking about the puppy.  Here’s how it went.

     Immediately after Steve brought her back to Bill, with the triggers and cues of past pain gone, I regained my equilibrium.  The next day, while my husband was at work, I got the baggage out and unpacked it for real.  

     I thought of my mother, who didn’t protect me because with five children, she was often tired and overwhelmed.  As the baby of the family, my solution was to diminish my own needs, but then I’d be overwhelmed by what was happening to me, and my own need for someone to take care of me, and collapse into an emotional maelstrom. The puppy’s demands, and her gleeful, unrestricted romping, shoved me back into both grief and anger at what I had to deal with, and longing for what I wanted and didn’t get.  Basically, I wanted to be safe to play, just like any child.  The loss of that simple gift is much larger than many people suspect.  While cats are the best at teaching us about personal space and pleasure, Dogs express joy like no other animal, in a total absence of fear or guilt. something I’d never had, and I’d wanted it desperately.   

     None of this was reasoned or articulate.  I was puppy-like myself, just reacting.  Once all that was named, I understood the puppy had given me a great gift, providing the means to unearth old feelings, name and perhaps heal them. Within a day, I also suspected she had more to teach me.          

      My own immediate needs met in a whole new way by someone I loved, I could turn my attention to Steve, who was clearly cut up by the loss of the puppy.  His misery was written in his body, his face, his energy.  Standing outside my own difficulties for the first time, I could perceive his.  It occurred to me that if the puppy resurrected my old emotions, she’d been doing the same thing to Steve. 

     He was the oldest of three boys, and throughout his childhood and adolescence he’d had to cope with his mother’s various illnesses, some of which were life-threatening.  His youngest brother was born when Steve was fourteen, and his mother got seriously sick right after that.  His father had to care for her, and Steve had to deal with both the fears and insecurities of a sick parent, and the care of an infant. 

     As an adult, he’d decided not to have children of his own, but also remained adamant about all children and animals needing our protection.  Both were drawn to him, instinctively seeing him as a source of safety.

    I’d seen this happen. When we’d gone to a petting zoo, though I had the bottle and the food, the animals flocked to him, all of them crowding around as if he was the ultimate source of sustenance. They just wanted to be near him. I felt the same way. 

     Now, don’t get me wrong.  He can be a real pain - stubborn, quirky, overly responsible, a typical first born son, totally unable to be anything other than who he is.  But he exudes honesty and integrity. He’s inherently trustworthy, and that’s more sexy than most men realize.  Having a puppy let him use his caretaking instincts, and gave him permission to play at the same time.  Nothing else in his life did that in the same way.  The puppy’s absence took that from him, and his grief was as deep as mine had been at having her here, though he didn’t give it voice.

    In fact, he hardly said a word.  Once or twice I asked him tentatively if there was anything I could do.  He said no.  I apologized as much as I dared, not wanting to say too much for fear he’d tend my emotions instead of his own, but his only response was that he loved me more than a pet, and it wasn’t my fault.   

    Re-enter the Titanic.  A different part of the story.  

     Let me just say that though I  loved the movie, it seemed clear to me that if Rose had gotten on one of the lifeboats, Jack would have been able to save himself.  He was resourceful, a survivor, and he only ended up in the water because he gave up his place on the plank of wood to her.  Why did she let him do that?  Why didn’t she insist that he get on it with her, somehow, someway, just as he insisted she stay alive?  That always bugged me.

     Now, I had to ask myself if I was willing to let Steve save me, without saving him back.  He’d shown fidelity to my soul.  Could I show the same to his?  If so, how?

      Because I’m even more stubborn than he is, because I was raised to be more curious than fearful, because I loved him, the answers were, respectively, yes, and I’d figure it out.  

      Keep in mind that two very important internal motivations spurred me on.  One was my commitment to not letting the bad parts or bad people of my childhood win.  They’d stolen from me then, but they would not steal from me now.  The second was from the best legacy of my childhood, which was being raised by imaginative, curious parents, who believed that learning could solve almost anything.   

    I’d learned more about who I was.  I could learn more about dogs.   

Hiding won't help, will it?

    I’ll pause for a moment here, and say that if this seems like a large emotional journey to be led by a labrador retriever puppy, I don’t consider that at all abnormal.  We learn the best stuff of our lives through relationship.  Friends, family, lovers, animals both wild and domestic that we stand in relationship with all teach us how to be human, and we need all of that, because being human is a complex task which we’re just beginning to get a handle on.  Our intense, immense nervous systems have evolved  in ways that are sometimes beyond our capacity to manage, unless we make it conscious, and then make a conscious effort to deal.

      Steve had my back, and I couldn’t let him freeze in the waters of my difficult past.  And I owed something to the puppy who had already taught me something important about love.  

     That Saturday, without telling Steve what I was doing, I went to Bill’s house to bring her home.  

    I  followed Bill down to the part of his basement where the puppies stayed. I told him I’d found some good allergy pills, and if it was okay, I’d take the puppy back, because Steve was feeling awful about letting her go.  He looked perplexed, but amenable.  He still had five, one of them our unnamed puppy, and as I hovered in the entrance to their room, I wondered if I’d be able to pick her out from this glump of puppydom.

     Bill opened the crate door and five black furballs poured out, tumbling over the floor and each other. They all ran toward Bill except one, who broke from the others and came trotting over to me.  She had an air of happy alertness, and she seemed glad to see me, as if she’d had a nice little visit with her siblings, but was ready to go home now.  I knelt down and she fumbled her way into my lap, licking my face.   

    I didn’t have to worry at all about finding her.  Just like the first time, she had found me.

      If you need a story about love and finding a home and all that, you can try my novel, Something Unpredictable.   If you need some homecoming food, try the recipe below.  

COMING HOME PASTINA

   This is a dish I usually keep pretty plain, for those nights when I want to really come home to the best part of my childhood.  When I’m feeling like moving into the more adult part of my life, I’ll use the Optional Add-Ins, and sometimes substitute Orzo for pastina, because you know the rule:  PLAY WITH YOUR FOOD!

Mmm.  Pastina

   1 cup pastina

   3 cups water

   1 small package frozen spinach

    Salt and pepper to taste

   1 tablespoon butter

ADD-IN OPTIONS  

fresh grated locatelli romano cheese

capers

dried cranberries

leftover cooked chicken, diced

parsley

garlic

   

Put the spinach in a pot with the water, and get it boiling. Let it thaw out for about five minutes.  Add the pastina, some salt and pepper, and let it boil for maybe another ten minutes.  Keep an eye on it, to make sure it doesn’t overcook. Turn the heat down real low and add the butter, and any of the other options that appeal to you.  Or make up some of your own.  You're human.  You can deal with complexity, right?