I always dread the period coming up as the equivalent of whitewater rapids my metaphorical raft has floated into while I am missing a paddle. This year’s rapids promise to be especially emotionally perilous. It will be my first Thanksgiving since my wife died on Leap Year, my son has his own concerns and is unlikely to be available, and joining an “orphan’s Thanksgiving” at the home of some pitying friend is less attractive to me than spending the day alone with my dog. Even before that terrible date come two other bad ones.
The first is November 22, Kennedy’s assassination anniversary, the 9/11 of my generation. As readers here know, I am not an admirer of JFK (or any of the Kennedys), but I am enough of a historian and student of Chaos Theory, “Back to the Future” and “The Terminator” to realize how much the future of our nation and the world was altered, probably for the worse, by that epic culmination of bad management and bad luck. Then comes the 23rd, my wedding anniversary, a date chosen explicitly to void coinciding with Assassination Day. I expect to spend that day wallowing in regret, recriminations, and guilt.
Just a few days later December 1 arrives, once my birthday, now the anniversary of finding my father, Jack A. Marshall, Sr., dead in his easy chair at 89. I still miss him every day. The birthday part will be almost as depressing. I am in remarkably good health, I have a lot of interesting projects and plans, I feel no different, though considerably wiser, than I did when I was 35 Yet when I look at and listen to my deteriorating friends, I realize that time is running out. Most of them look and sound and think disturbingly old to me. I don’t want to think about how I must appear to them.
I am a fanatic fan of Christmas and its crucial ethical role in our society. I intend to continue my practice of celebrating Christmas culture here on Ethics Alarms, but it will not be fun. The annual bombardment of Christmas music that I love started depressing me several years ago when I realized I was listening to dead artists who I missed and whose like will never be seen again: Bing, Dean, Karen, Gene, Rosemary, Frank, Burl, Nat, Harry, Judy and the rest, and no, Mariah Carey doesn’t help. (Neither does the Harry Simeone Choral). I am a Christmas tree perfectionist myself, but paying over 300 bucks for a real one and spending five hours decorating it alone in an empty house is too masochistic even for me.
Then I have New Years to look forward to. Last year, after a pretty miserable 2023 (following not quite as miserable 2022, 2021 and 2020) Grace and I pledged to make 2024 an upbeat year, to conquer whatever malady that was making it so painful for her to walk, to get the house back in shape, to revive our business, crippled by Dr. Fauci’s stupid lockdown, and our finances, crippled by the near demise of our business: to try to be happy. THAT sure worked out well. The year was a like an extended obituary: first Grace, then the last surviving member of my mother’s family, the only extended family I ever knew, funny, fiercely independent Aunt Bea, who died at 96, more favorite cultural heroes, one of my all-time favorite Red Sox players, the great Luis Tiant, and last month, a mentor, advisor, role model and friend, former U.S. Chamber president and CEO Tom Donohue. A project I was looking forward to, the planning, execution of and directing a show to mark the 50th Anniversary of the theater group I founded as a first year law student, now the only graduate school theater organization run by students in the country, had to be cancelled at the last minute. That organization is pretty much my legacy. So far, there are no plans to reschedule the event.
I am an optimistic and forward looking person—that was one of many gifts my father left for me. I will remain so, in part because of the inspiration and support the readers and commenters here provide to me every day. I deeply believe that what we do here is important even if it often feels futile. Nonetheless, this dark night of the soul approaching is not going to be easy. As Betty Davis warned in “All About Eve,” I have to fasten my metaphorical seat belt somehow. It’s going to be a bumpy night.
Well, that was pathetic and went on longer than I expected. The non-Jack commentary will have to wait for Part 2.
Ethics Alarms 
If there is a God, he’s got one hell of a sense of humor.
As we get closer to actually having to take the dirt nap (Steve O’s great Irish term), our view of things changes quite markedly. Death becomes much more real and less an abstraction. And our view of life changes as well.
I hope you do spend Thanksgiving with people dear to you, perhaps your sister?
$300 for a real Christmas tree, this sounds a little too pricey, a Cadillac of a tree. I have gotten Home Depot real trees that worked perfectly. They were below $100, though they were from, gasp, Canada. We don’t have too much space, so a small tree is sufficient for us.
In this area, a $100 tree looks like Charlie Brown’s. I need at least a seven foot tree to hold all of the decorations that have meaning.
Instead of thinking about what you have lost think about how those people added so much happiness in your life.
I can appreciate your comment about feeling in good health while others your age are deteriorating. My explanation for that is many give in to the little aches and pains of aging which ultimately causes them to grow further debilitated. Keep walking Spuds with your held held high. Keep in mind the upcoming holidays give you a chance to uplift others which is a huge endorphin rush.
Keep the faith Jack. Your efforts are not futile even if we don’t always agree.
instead of thinking about what you have lost think about how those people added so much happiness in your life.
Isn’t that like saying. “Don’t think about the fact that you are hungry, think about all the good meals you had in the past?”
No, what I am saying is reflect on the positive and not the negative. Relive some of the past experiences in your mind and focus on how wonderful your life is because of those who have passed before. What I mean is instead of getting caught up remembering the day your dad passed try remembering some of the chess games you played with him or ball games attended with him and what you gained from that. Think about your wedding day and the happiness Grace created in your life. Everything is cumulative so by directing your attention on the things that added value and not those that subtracted from the total you can limit any sense of loss. When we get caught up in dwelling on losses we wind up in a depressive spiral. I don’t want that to happen to you.
Three dates that will forever be stamped in my heart. September 20th the anniversary of my wife’s death seven years ago. February 20th her birthday. And February 14th the date on which we exchanged our vows. I know where you’re coming from Jack. You have my sympathy.
Apparently, we share a date. My birthday is the day after JFK’s assassination. I turned 11 that year and I really had no idea why everyone was so sad.
Back when I was delivering newspapers in the wee hours, and listening to a lot of talk radio — I could always tell my birthday was approaching because there would be a rash of shows about JFK conspiracy theories. I am sure, were I still listening, there still are.
After JFK’s assassination, the TV, on all three channels (then) was almost completely dominated by the news, which included Lee Harvey Oswald being shot and killed on live TV. Then the funeral, and John John’s salute. I was already obsessed with Presidential history, and nothing has come close to those days in my lifetime.