Extraordinary Dialogue: What Can One Say?
Friends, I must be honest with you; the world is really pressing down on me right now. Cathy is going through another period of debilitating fatigue, and I’m doing my best to care for her while also attending to everything that needs attention around the house—things like cooking and cleaning and all those other adult things that Cathy usually helps manage. On top of all that, we now have a sick cat to worry about. Many of you know our orange tabby, Stella. Last night she hunkered down under a cedar chest and wouldn’t come out. She even growled at me when I reached under the chest and tried to pet her, which was contrary to her very sweet disposition. I know I’ll need to take her to the vet in the morning.
This is all to say this blog has been barely in my thoughts. At first, I thought I wouldn’t even try to make a post this week. Then, I thought of a story I can tell.
A few days ago, carrying a load of depression and anxiety, I made a trip to the grocery store. At the checkout line, the clerk, an older woman (by that, I mean a woman around my age), asked how I was doing.
“Fine, thank you,” I said.
“You don’t sound very convincing,” she said.
There are times when the world presses down so hard, I want someone to hear my story. At these times, I find myself incapable of lying for the purpose of chit-chat. I could have easily said something innocuous—something deflective like, “It’s really raining out there.” I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“My wife is undergoing cancer treatments,” I said.
I knew I was breaking an unspoken social contract that dictated, “Thou shall not speak to a stranger of anything that matters,” but at the time, I was hurting too much to care.
The clerk stopped scanning my items. I could tell I’d shocked her with too much truth, and she didn’t know how to respond.
Finally, she said, “I’d rather have cancer than Alzheimer’s.” Now, I was the one who didn’t know what to say. She went on to support her statement, but what she said was equally astonishing, something about Alzheimer’s coming on suddenly while cancer can exist for a while before discovery. The suspect logic of her statement escapes me, but still, I want to be fair to her. I know I’d put her in an uncomfortable situation. What does one say when a stranger invites you into their difficult life?
That’s the question I want to leave you with, this question of what can happen when strangers break down the boundaries between them. You might want to try it in your writing. You might even be working with characters who have known each other a long time. What truth does one character expose to another? How does that other character respond?
In my case, I ignored the clerk’s comment about preferring cancer to Alzheimer’s, and she went back to scanning my items. I left, thanking her when she said, “I’ll be praying for your wife.” The clerk went back to her business—she had another customer’s items to scan—and I went out into the rain, back to Cathy and Stella and our other cat, Stanley, who, despite how imperfect I am, rely on me.
I don’t know whether the grocery clerk thought of me later that day, as I have her. We were two strangers, but for a time, we were extraordinary. Isn’t that what we want for all our characters? Dialogue can take us to these remarkable moments if we’ll let one character say what they’ve been aching to say and if we allow another character to respond in kind.
Hi Lee,
I understand about living in an alter universe that you are experiencing. How it comes out of us with no forewarning, with strangers mostly. It’s because we so desperately trying to find a rock to hold onto something to anchor us while we experience something painful and devastating.
I unexperienced this, shortly after my son was diagnosed with schizophrenia I kept to my schedule which was to go to the gym to work out with my trainer. Once I got there and I began to lift weights I sit put the weights down, sat down, and told him my mind was so tired I couldn’t do it because I found out my son has schizophrenia. Immediately I felt foolish, it just came out. My trainer was super supportive and caring offering me some words of support. That was the first time that it happened to me and there have been several other times over the 25 years of this experience.
I find most people are very kind and loving and others seem to have worse problems and have no room left for compassion because of what they’re dealing with in their own lives, so at that time, I give them all the compassion and attention that I can and hold their hand, even if only for a moment.
I see this trait in you that comes out in your characters such as, Henry Dees and Edith Green
Thank you for reminding us to do this in our own writing. My thoughts are with you Kathy and your precious cats.
Thank you, Mitzi. I think so many of us, when we’re grieving, just want to be seen and heard. Cathy and I thank you for your good thoughts.
Lee–thank you for taking the time to write this. So many people I know are carrying a heavy load right now– a family member or friend sick, recovering from treatment, the world in general beating down on our collective shoulders.
I’ve experienced similar times of overwhelming duties (of which I mostly had no clue) and dealing with grief after my husband died from a brain tumor. The first time I went to Zesto by myself for ice cream like we used to do in the summer, I almost blurted to the woman taking orders that Tom had died. Instead I sat in my car and cried as I licked the cone. I’m lucky to have many writing women friends to do things with, but even if we were enjoying live music in a coffee shop, say, I’d cry all the way home.
All that was years ago. I started writing about my grief before he died and while I was I going to therapy. My therapist had never had a client hand her a raw poem before each weekly session. It was after I started writing again that I knew I was going to be okay.
And now I have a partner, someone I knew many years ago but lost touch with. Life does move on, and mine became much better sharing it with him. Of course I’ll never forget about my life with Tom, and wouldn’t want to; in fact, I’m still writing about him.
Twyla, thanks so much for sharing some of your experience.I think it helps everyone to be able to talk about our grief. You have no reason to know this, but Tom sold me my very first desktop computer and printer. Here’s to never forgetting and always looking forward.
I just finished reading the bright forever. I was living in the story fot the last two days like a good book does you. A page turner, just one more, and another and another.
Since the book ended I landed here wanting yet another!
I call them golden moments -when I meet a stranger and the masks, labels, roles drop and we aren’t strangers but just two human beings being real, and feeling extra connected. Ping ping. You and Cathy continue to be in my thoughts 🙏🏻.. I was so touched by your presence in June.. so many people sending you love and care! One day at a time you will make it.
Dear Janalee,
Thanks so much for you comments about THE BRIGHT FOREVER. If you’re interested in finding out what happened to Henry Dees, read THE EVENING SHADES. Cathy and I both loved getting to know you in Amesville. We feel the love coming from all corners of the globe. Onward!
You never know what another person might be going through. At least when you share the burden, there’s that humanity to keep us going.
All the best to Cathy as she fights back and to you as caregiver.
Thank you, Angela. It’s a fight for sure.