Chapter 20

Waiting in the airport lounge, he felt a sense of anticipation like he was a child again. It was his first visit to Australia since he had been living on this side of the world, and he felt that familiar twinge of new discovery again.

 He was going to Sydney to attend the Vivid Festival, which was an extravaganza of lights, music, and entertainment that lit up the city in fluorescent splendor. Flying over the Opera House he saw it was lit up in a brilliant neon blue, and he couldn’t wait to go inside and take a look around.

It was still relatively cool, and John put on his cashmere blue suit jacket to hit the town. After a few months of sobriety he had given himself permission to have a few drinks on this trip, and he was interested to explore the legend of the Australian night life.

Walking the few short blocks to The Rocks, he saw that the whole city was lit up in almost surreal color patterns. Despite living in Chicago for all those years, he’d never seen anything like it. He had walked into a completely new world, and it was truly beautiful.

He found his way around the water to the Opera house and saw thousands of people drinking, listening to music, and enjoying the evening. It was bustling with life, and he found it all quite contagious. So far he loved Australia.

He entered in to the Fortune of War, which had the distinction of being the oldest bar in Sydney. He heard the entire bar signing along to Billy Joel, and knew immediately he had come to the right place. He was in a social mood, and felt like creating some memories.

 He quickly befriended a couple of Irishmen who had moved to Sydney from the old country, and joined them in their rounds of Johnny Walker Black. Historically he wasn’t a scotch drinker, and he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind the bar before he took his first drink. He reminded himself that he wasn’t 21 anymore.

 A couple of hours into the night, he had negotiated his way onto the microphone despite the singer’s initial reservations. In some of his previous incarnations he’d had a flair for entertaining, and in that moment decided to regale the crowd with a couple of songs about Chicago. He was missing the windy city.

He joined a group of Aussies who had let their ties down after work, and were well on their way of making a night of it. He found the relaxed, friendly, and hard-drinking Aussies delightful, and was quickly making friends with the help of his credit card. 

One of the woman in the group was rather striking, and seeing her drinking beer and belting out songs, he was developing a little crush. His wife had been one of the only women who had that combination of brains, beauty, and spirit, and he was immediately drawn to her life force. He bought them all a drink and was immediately accepted into the herd. 

She grabbed his arm and pushed to the front of the stage, where a group was gathered around singing “Tiny Dancer” by Elton John. They quickly joined in and helped belt out the chorus, and locked eyes together in a smile. It had been years since he’d had such a good time. 

After the song, he found his Irish friends at the bar and bought his round. He had been to Ireland and drunk with the locals, and one thing he had learned was never to abandon your round when you were drinking with Irishmen. It was a question of honor.

He looked back into the mirror behind the bar, and saw he was a bit disheveled and flushed. He turned and saw his pretty new friend chatting away with her friends, and reminded himself to be careful. In his past he would have continued to pursue her, but he was trying to be a little more careful with people, even in this inebriated state.

At closing time the bar was packed, and the singer asked everyone to come to the stage and join him in a sing-a-long of “Hey Jude.” Not a single person remained in their seats. He flung his arms around all of his new Irish and Aussie friends, and belted out the song at the top of his lungs, along with the rest of the bar. The sound carried so far, that others in the street began to sing a long outside the bar.

It was a wonderful evening. 

Part 2 (Chapter 19)

Following the interlude on the ride home, John spent the next couple of months abstaining from alcohol, exercising, and focusing on his work. He was beginning to feel a heightened sense of empathy and power in his work again, and despite the differences in culture, he had found a very effective cruising altitude with his patients. 

 He thought about all of the twists and turns his life had taken, and realized as a middle-aged man, a widow, and as a therapist, he had inadvertently followed in the footsteps of his mentor Dr. Paul.  Right now his life was all about the work, and he was in all modesty, achieving a level of mastery again. 

In thinking about this, he thought back to something he often espoused in his session regarding the relationship between suffering and wisdom. Despite being 10,000 miles from home, it was a conversation he revisited often. He looked at his handouts and read the following from M Scott Peck

“The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.”

 Good ole’ M Scott. He wrote some of the great truths of the 20^th century in his seminal book The Road Less Traveled, about commitment, choices, and impulse control. Then he cheated on his wife and ruined his marriage. It was a story that had always stuck with him. It reminded him that even the greatest among us were capable of human frailty. 

As he continued to abstain from alcohol, he felt his powers of observation improving, and noticed some of the same pains of empathy returning from his early days as a therapist. Previously he had treated this pain with alcohol. After that he had been lucky enough to treat it with an enduring and passionate love.

Neither of those were options right now. 

He had instead purchased a motorcycle to tour New Zealand and see every nook and cranny of his beautiful new home. He realized this choice came with some perils given his drinking habits, and he thought about Benny and a life that was snuffed out to soon. 

 His first trip was to the northern tip of the country to a place called Cape Reinga. It was, in a sense, the actual end of the earth. A lighthouse stood at the end of the park in the town which served as the main attraction. He made the short walk and took out his kindle. He was reading a book by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross on resilience that had been invaluable to him in both his life and his work. He read,

“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.”

He hoped that one day this would apply to him.

Chapter 18

In a strange twist of fate, he wound up riding home with Natalie instead of risking driving his car under a few day’s influence. A part of him was irritated that he was behaving so erratically, while quite another was intrigued by the pretty new stranger at the wheel.

“So doc. You like your beers I see. So what else are you in to?” she asked.

“Hmm. Well right now I’m enjoying exploring the country a little I guess. I’ve always been drawn to the beach and you guys seem to have a lot of them.”

“I grew up not far from here,” she said. “Out in the country where we could ride horses and start bonfires and go to the beach anytime. When you say you’re from Chicago you might as well be from Mars for all I know about it. I won’t ask you what brought you here, but I do want to make a little confession.”

“Okay” he said carefully. People were often confessing to him, which worked just fine when he was working.

“The thing is. I got curious and bought a few of your books. I don’t know how much of what you write is from your life and how much is made up. But I couldn’t put the stuff down. You’ve got a story. That much is obvious. And so do I. Maybe we’ll get to it one day. But one thing I have learned is to take a chance on things when you see an opportunity. So here’s the thing. I want you to come on in when we get to my house, and we’ll take it from there. I don’t want you to answer now. I want you to use that mysterious, slightly inebriated brain of yours, and think about it.”

 He felt the rush of blood and looked over and took this woman in. Although probably 50, she was still quite striking, and he guessed she was a truly stunning woman at one point of her life. He felt a strange Déjà Vu and thought back to his encounter with Lisa, the pretty secretary he had just been with. Was he going to let history repeat itself?

As they got closer to Natalie’s house she rested her hand on his leg, as they wound their way through the north shore of the city. He knew he had a choice to make, and soon. Not long ago he had made a pledge not to use people anymore, and he wondered to himself if he was about to do this again. On part of him rationalized that they were consenting adults. Another took her in and saw the long lines of  her face worn with years of sadness. He thought back to his reading a few weeks before.

~“But never again use another person's body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings.”

 “So tell me” John said, as they sat parked in Natalie’s driveway. “And this is way out of character for me believe me. But what is it you think is between us? I made a pledge to myself not to ever use someone again, so it’s important for me to know.”

“Well doctor, since you’re being so vulnerable. I do have to say, I’ve read your books, and have imagined being one of the girls in your stories. Is that so weird? You seem like a wonderful guy in those books. Is the in-person guy just as nice?”

“I don’t know the answer to that actually,’ he said as he touched her face. “But I do know I’m not quite ready for this right now. You’re a beautiful woman and I would love to be your friend. I really and truly mean that. But I don’t think it would lead to good things for either one of us if we slept together right now. I hope you understand.”

He had chosen not to use anther person as a scratching post.



He hoped he’d made the right move…

Chapter 17

  After sleeping till about noon, he gathered himself and headed to the beach. His love of reading had been rekindled during his time in New Zealand, and today he was reading “Wild: A Journey from Lost to Found," by Cheryl Strayed. He had recently watched the movie starring Reese Witherspoon, and the story of travel and redemption was something that deeply resonated with him.

He read-

‘That it was everything. It was my life - like all lives, mysterious and irrevocable and sacred. So very close, so very present, so very belonging to me.

How wild it was, to let it be.” 

 It was beautiful prose, and he was especially drawn to the line “like all lives, mysterious, irrevocable, and sacred.” Mysterious, irrevocable and sacred. How did those adjectives describe his own life? He’d gotten well past the point of predicting what would happen next to him, but he had grown to enjoy the mystery. 

He knew that the secret to happiness in life was to live in the precious present, and right now he was immersed in the moment. The hole in that philosophy as he saw it, was that for him at least, it was easy to twist this philosophy into a kind of hedonism. Historically that had been the case for him.

With this question ringing in his head, he heard the sound of music coming from the surf club down the beach, and turned to look. There were pretty girls in bikinis out on the deck and the man with the guitar was also back. What better time to live in the moment. In not now then when? 

He was a little startled when the bartender smiled and referred to him as “Dr. John.” It was never a good sign for him when he got on a first name basis with the bartenders and he made a mental note to watch himself. 

Sunday had always been the hardest night of the week for him in his life. From a young child onward he remembered that strange pathos of pending doom that came with a Sunday evening, and just recently the feeling had returned. Why was that? Was it because he had moved to a new place? Started a new job? Started drinking more?

 He ordered a bucket of Coronas and made his way out to the patio. Several people said hello and slapped him on the back, and he was filled with a strange sense of Deja Vous that he had done all this before. And indeed he had. Less than 24 hours ago in fact. He knew his memory may have stopped recording some things. He wasn’t just living in the present anymore. This was hedonism.

He spent the next several hours drinking and dancing and singing on the patio, noticing as he did a number of coronas now turned upside down in the silver bucket. 

He heard his name called from inside the bar and looked in and saw a head of long pretty black hair peaking out from under a large sun hat. It took a minute for him to pull focus, and he realized it was a pretty nurse named Natalie he worked with back in Auckland.

“Well hello doctor,” she said with a smile. “Nice to know you like to see how the other half lives once in a while.”

“Oh you have no idea. I AM the other half," he replied.

“Haha. Well nice to know in case I ever need a drinking buddy at the office. I’m here with some girlfriends. Why don’t you come and join us if you’re free?”

If you’re free? Hmm. Kind of a loaded question really. Was he free from his memories? Free from poor impulse control? Free from a sometimes unhealthy relationship with alcohol?

Right now he was. Indeed he was.

Chapter 16

As part of scoping out his new town, he wanted to find a great beach. New Zealand had a luxury of riches when it came to beaches, and he wanted to find one to make his own.

 On a sunny Friday afternoon he therefore headed towards Piha, the famous beach on the west coast known for it’s rugged waves and great surfing. He had rented a little bungalow for the night, and was in the mood to mix with the locals, taste a few NZ beers and wines, and get in the water again. 

After checking in, he wandered down to the main beach, which had a massive structure called Lion Rock in the center of it. He made the 10 minute trek up to the top of the rock and took stock of the endless coastline sprawled down below. It was stunning, and reminded him a lot of a place he used to go in Oregon called Cannon Beach, which had been a sanctuary for him as a lonely kid.

  He wandered into the Piha surf club overlooking the beach and saw everyone gathered around a man playing guitar out on the little deck overlooking the sea. It all seemed kind of perfect, and soon John had joined the party. 

He stayed late into the evening singing songs and talking with people from all over the world who had gathered on the patio to have a drink and enjoy the beautiful view. 

After closing the little bar down, he wandered out to the beach and laid there for a while. It was a full moon and the stars were out and his mind was buzzing.

 And then, just over the horizon, he heard something coming from further down the beach. It was a guitar. And more than that, it was someone playing the Grateful Dead. He followed his ears and walked until he found the sound. There was a bunch of people in tie-dyes and assorted hippie garb sitting around the fire singing along. 

  He thought back to his early twenties when he used to own an old Volkswagen bus and travel around the country. He lived for those moments signing around a campfire, and finding this again in this time and in this place was a wonderful surprise.

  He wandered in to the loosely assembled group, singing the words to “Sugar Magnolia” as he did. He smelled the campfire and the marijuana wafting through the air and felt like he had traveled back in time. 

  He quickly found some people to talk to, and one particularly inspired man in dreadlocks was delivering a monologue.

“What if man, like this was the edge of the universe, and we’re just, like right now, pushing against it, making it bigger and more spiritual all the time?”

 He sat and listened to music and had some great laughs until the sun came up. Thinking that maybe he WAS pushing the outer edge of his universe a little bit. 

 As the last of the fire began to die down, he did get the guy with the guitar to play an old favorite for him. It was “Tripping Billies” by Dave Mathews, and it reminded him of some wonder times and places in his life. 

It went-

So why would you care
to get out of this place?
You and me and all our friends
such a happy human race

Cause we're tripping billies...

Right at that moment, he couldn’t have said it any better.

Chapter 15

 Diving back into his work also meant prioritizing his own self-care again, and he wanted to make sure he was up to the task. He reread some of his old Yalom materials, and focused in particular on the idea, ‘Let your patients matter to you, let them enter your mind, influence you, change you – and not conceal this from them.’ 


Driving towards the west side of Auckland, he thought back to his early days in Chicago. He had been so broke he used to take two busses and a train to get to his job on the south side of the city, and every patient had been a new kind of adventure. He had a natural talent for therapy, and quickly made a name for himself, first in the city, and then even nationally. 


Looking back now he missed those days. He was so eager. So passionate. It had been in these early days that he first noticed a kind of heightened empathy, and slowly with the help of his mentor Dr. Paul and others, he began to make sense of this talent. 


 He wondered what had changed since that time? Was he more effective now than he was back them? As empathic? He knew from both the research and his own experience that therapists often lost some of their empathy with more experience. But they also got more effective with their technique, and these opposing factors often balanced each other out. 


  At the end of the day he felt invigorated, which he took as a good sign, given how fatigued he had been over the past couple of weeks at the end of his days. He was returning to something he loved, and it felt like he was starting over. 


 One thing he had lost site of over the years was how the ravages of poverty and inequality affected people’s mental health. Much like Chicago, Auckland was a city of haves and have nots, and he was working with a number of the city's less fortunate. 


He thought about his own rise from poverty to relative wealth in his life, and remembered what it was like to search for change in the couch cushions, and hope to God your car could go a few more miles on empty. It put a tremendous strain on people to live like that, and poverty was often a precursor to alcoholism, drug abuse, and domestic violence.


He reached his home thinking about all of these things, and what he might do to help. In his work he was in a position to help others, but often only to a point given their external circumstances. What more might he do, and how might he challenge himself? At the end of Friday afternoon, he decided to go the gym, and then the coffee shop with his laptop. For now he would fight the battle of the written word, as it kept his mind occupied and his body out of the bars. He had written an early story years ago about choosing a coffee shop over a bar, and he thought this was yet another one of these moments where life was folding in on itself. Hemingway had said all it took to be a writer was the ability to sit at a typewriter and bleed.


He had opened that wound again.

Chapter 14

Driving back to Auckland, he thought about what had happened, and why he had given in to his impulses. He’d had many chances to be with women in the years he had been alone, but had always resisted the urge. Why now?

 

 He reviewed the past couple of weeks of his life, and realized he had been drinking much more than usual. Was he reverting back to his old self? Regressing in some way? A part of him rationalized that he was a consenting adult who simply chose to enjoy some time with another consenting adult. He had made no promises, and been honest about his mental state and his intentions.


So why did he feel so guilty?

He took the west coast again, and this time took a road called the surf highway in the Taranaki region which featured high, sprawling cliffs and rough seas. He purchased a bottle of NZ cabernet and found a quiet spot near the town of Opunake. He was feeling different somehow, and he fished his kindle out of his bag and found a passage from Elizabeth Gilbert in “Eat Pray Love” he wanted to reflect, he read,

‘When I get lonely these days, I think: So BE lonely, Liz. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience. But never again use another person's body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings.’

 It was that last line, “Never use another person’s body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings.” Had he just done that? Fulfilled a sexual need that he had neglected for a very long time? 

He knew his conscience was working overtime, and he decided he wouldn’t beat himself up over it anymore. But he would be more careful about his interactions with others. In his younger days he simply satisfied his own urges and didn’t fully consider how others may have interpreted these interactions. Alcohol was always a factor. Without the alcohol, he felt things very deeply and personally, and the antidote of alcohol allowed him to act on his more selfish urges. 

 He looked at his bottle of wine, and saw there was still a half bottle or so remaining. He took a long look at the ocean, and turned it upside down, watching it trickle down the rocks and slowly down to the water. He didn’t want it right now. Didn’t need it. 

 When he had run into these kinds of question in his life, historically he had always returned to his work, and he felt this would also be a good solution now. He had a full roster of clients to look after, and also wanted to return to his writing. He felt, at last, ready to tell another story to the world. Regardless who may still be reading.

Chapter 13

 It had been a long, draining, emotional day, and as he sat alone in his hotel, he looked through his phone, contemplating making a call he knew could lead to trouble. He felt especially alone that night after he left the wake and saw all of the couples leaving together, and for tonight at least, he didn’t want to be alone.

 The number he was contemplating dialing was Lisa’s, the pretty single mother from his former job who he knew lived close to the beach in the same area. He guessed she would be willing to see him if he called, but a part of him was also hesitant. Where would this go? Where might it lead?

In the end he sent her a friendly text inquiring about her availability that night. She seemed to like him, like his company, and had invited him out before. They were two consenting adults. That’s what he told himself. 

An hour later they were on Himitangi Beach watching the sun go down. It was a spectacular sunset, and he was enjoying the presence of another person to watch it with. Himitangi was one of those rare beaches you could drive your car on, and they settled into a peaceful and comfortable silence together as they watched the sun go down.

  After the 2^nd glass of wine, their knees slowly touched, and he felt that sense of pending sexual energy that was unmistakable when you felt it. It had been a long time for him, and he took stock of her again in that moment before going further.

“So, at the risk of ruining the mood, my grandfather always told me that if there was an elephant in the room, you should introduce it,” John began. “There’s obviously some energy here between us, and I think we should figure out what it is.”

“Well doc, it’s no secret that I dropped a few hints about wanting to be with you. I see something in you that I think other people may sometimes miss. It’s a kind of pain, a kind of mystery that draws me to you. I’m not just looking for a fling though, so please do respect that.”

“Okay. I get that. I was raised by a single mother and I respect that,” John responded. “Truthfully I can’t promise you anything right this second, as I’m still a real work in progress. I reached out to you tonight because I didn’t want to be alone and you’ve been kind to me. I can feel the energy between us and I’m sure that you can too. I’ll let you decide where we go from here.”

She took a long look at the ocean and then back at John before responding. She reached down, kissed him on the mouth, and gently led him back to the car.


“Let’s go home Doc. Let’s go home.”

Back at her modest country house, they undressed each other slowly, and he found himself surrendering to his baser instincts, as he took her body with a firm hand, lowered her onto the bed, and entered into her. He thrust himself deeper and deeper inside of her until he felt her pure, unfiltered release wash over him and through him. Moments later he joined her in this release, and then they both laid there quietly wondering what to say next.

Chapter 12

 He made arrangements to return to Himitangi beach for the funeral, as Benny had been the first person to welcome him to New Zealand and feel comfortable in his new home. He was more than that though. An adviser. A father figure. A source of wisdom. 

He thought of Benny’s wife Sally and how devastated she must be by the news. Opening the bar in the country had been their shared dream, and he could only imagine how blindsided by life she must be. It was feeling he was intimately acquainted with. 

 He decided to take the long way to Himitangi through something called “the forgotten world highway” between Auckland and the west coast of New Zealand. It was a gorgeous, winding drive through some of the most lush countryside John had even seen. He had driven back and forth across America numerous times in his life, but he’d never seen anything like this. It was a sunny afternoon and he had the road almost completely to himself. He thought back to a quote from Wayne Dyer that he reflected on from time to time over the years. “You can’t be lonely if you like the person you’re alone with.”

 

 He reached the city of New Plymouth by late afternoon, and decided to press on. This side of the New Zealand coast offered spectacular views of the ocean, and he found himself feeling the familiar excitement of being by the sea again. 

 He stopped at a little town called Patea an hour or so from his destination for the night, and walked down a long, lonely pier to watch the sunset and smell the salty ocean air. It was hard to believe he was so alone with such a spectacular view. 

  The next day at the Wines was a spectacular party celebrating all of Benny’s life and times. He was thrilled to share stories with all of Benny’s friends, and it occured to him that this was the end of a life well lived. Although he didn’t know Bennie nearly as well as some of the people here, he prepared a little speech to give anyway. After three or four beers and a lot of laughter and tears, he took his turn at the podium.

“Picture this.

A man dusts off the old “which way to the beach?” line in a bar. Except there’s no pretty girl. Or muscles. 

Those are the circumstances I first met Bennie Dillon. I was new to New Zealand fresh off the boat from America. He welcomed me into the bar with open arms, got me a beer, and made me a pizza. 

I never did make it to the beach that day.

But I did stay up pretty late talking to Bennie and his wife Sally that night. They told me all about their lives, how they came to open The Wines (Bennie’s lifelong dream) and their travels to America. He showed me some videos of his motorcycle trips to the south island. He had his bar, his wife, and his harley.

He was the picture of a happy man.

Over the next couple of months I returned to The Wines more than once. Often Bennie and I would stay up late into the night talking about different things. I really came to value his advice, his friendship, and his stories about the open road. It was a great introduction to New Zealand for me. As a new guy here I didn’t know many people, and he always introduced me around whenever he got the chance. Not a lot of people would have cared. But he did. He even let me stay in his home after being “overserved” a time or two. 

I based my first impressions of the people of New Zealand at least in part on my time with Bennie and Sally. I figured if the people were all as nice as this, then maybe I’d come to the right place. 

Eventually I left my first New Zealand home in Himitangi Beach, but I’ll never, ever forget these wonderful people who took in a stranger, showed him around, and welcomed him. 

Malcolm Forbes said, “You can easily judge the character of a man by how he treats those who can do nothing for him.” That was the kind of guy Bennie was. The kind that would give a total stranger the shirt off his back. When I walked in The Wines the first time I was a lost, scared, lonely dude completely out of his element. 

An hour later I was one of the guys.

That was the guy of guy Bennie was. The kind that made everyone feel like one of the guys.

If I can draw these conclusions from only a few meetings with Bennie, I can’t imagine the stories those that have known him his whole life must have to tell about him. My guess is they’ll ripple on for a long time though. 

So sorry to hear you’re gone Bennie. I’ll always remember you as someone who made a weary and wary traveler completely at home.

It really mattered to me.

You were one of the good guys…

Chapter 11

 His new job took him to the West side of Auckland. It was the tough side of town, and he thought back to his early days working on the south side of Chicago. Working class people. Out of work people. Broken homes. He had done his best work there. Met his daughter there. Learned how to be a psychologist there. Even when he began receiving recognition he stayed there. They were his kind of people.

His first days on the job were interesting, challenging, and engaging. It had been years since he worked a full schedule as a therapist, and he found himself tired and drained at the end of the day, despite his best efforts. 

An additional portion of his job involved conducting couple’s counseling, which was something that had always been a bit of an Achilles heal in John’s work as a therapist. Most of his life he had avoided intimacy in his relationships, and sometimes had problems remaining patient with the banality of most marital issues. 

He looked through his notebook of handouts on the subject, and reviewed some of his standard thoughts he shared with most couples.

1. We accept the love we think we deserve.’ This idea (as quoted in “The Perks of Being a Wallflower) has been around for a while. If we have a low opinion of ourselves then we are likely drifting towards relationships that confirm this opinion.

2. "We train people how to treat us by what we allow, what we stop, and what we reinforce." Again, not a new idea, but a very important one. Did your partner make you feel bad about yourself? Make negative comments about your appearance? Say insulting things about your friends and family? If so it is up to YOU to draw the line in the sand about what you feel is appropriate. If you sit passively by you won’t change anything.

3. “When the student is ready, the teacher appears.” Taken from Buddhist thought, and suggestive of the idea that things come into our lives when we are ready for them. Have we recognized our own patterns of self-sabotage? How our own insecurities contribute to jealousy, tensions, and communication patterns? If we haven’t, then the end of a relationship gives us a chance to think about these things and work on them.

 He chuckled to himself as he read his own writing from many years past. All good pieces of advice. All often ignored by the countless couples he had seen over the years. All ignored in his own life for many years until he had finally met his wife.

But when the student is ready, the teacher appears. That one he could relate to. He was feeling ready again in his own life. Ready again for engagement, adventure, laughter, and romance. 

He was thinking about all of these things when he received a rather disturbing phone call later that afternoon. 

His dear friend Benny had been killed in a motorcycle accident.

Chapter 10

Driving north into Auckland, he saw the familiar Sky Tower and was reminded of his first trip to Seattle as a young boy from his home in the Eastern side of the state. It was the greatest adventure of his life at the time, and he had never lost that rush of anticipation from starting a new adventure. As Seneca said thousands of years before, “Every knew beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”

With the help of his GPS he found his new home in St. Mary’s Bay right on the water just outside of downtown Auckland. He wanted a view of the Sea, and as he opened his curtains and saw the large expanse of water out in front of him, he knew he would get back to writing something substantial, likely at this very spot. It had been too long.

He walked up to his new neighborhood just a short stroll from his house and saw an interesting little collection of coffee shops, restaurants, and bars. It was 3 in the afternoon, and he saw a bustling afternoon crowd at a place called The Elbow Room enjoying their beer and wine on the outdoor patio. With a whiff of indecision, he took stock of the situation. There was music, women, sunshine, and life. He went inside and ordered a beer.

At one point in his life, he was the master of ceremonies inside a bar, and today he felt a rush of the old magic. There was woman of Maori decent playing music inside the bar, and halfway through his first beer, they locked eyes. She sang,

‘Take a good luck at my face

You’ll see my smile, looks out of place

If you look closer, it’s easy to trace

The tracks of my tears’

It was a perfect song for this juncture of his life. He’d been a comedian, and a psychologist and a happily married man at different incarnations in his life. And he looked like a happy man now. A well dressed, 40ish man with a nice smile singing along to songs in a bar. Who could have guessed anything about the life he had lived?

At the break the singer came and introduced herself and offered to buy him a drink. He was a stranger in a strange land, but he still felt a little swell of pride when a woman offered to buy him a drink, regardless of where he was in the world.

She was a striking woman, around his age, but showed sings in her face of a life that had been hard. Her singing was immaculate, full of pain, and passion, and a life that had encompassed the whole human experience. They clicked.

“So you’re not from around here, that’s obvious. So where are you from mystery man?” she asked?

“Chicago mostly I guess. I live here now though. Just moved to the neighborhood actually. Like an hour ago. I heard you singing and came in. You’re good. Talented. “

“Well something tells me you’re good too. I’m not sure what it is you’re good at. But it’s something. I saw you singing along. I bet you’ve entertained people at some point in your life. Am I right? I’m a native girl, and I have a sixth sense about people, so don’t bullshit me. What’s your story Captain America?”

“I’m a psychologist from Chicago. And yea, I’ve been around a little bit. But you Kiwis don’t really like the self-promotion, right? So let’s just say I’m a new guy in the neighborhood who likes some good music, alright? We’ve all got our stories, right? Me, you, and everyone else. But for now I’m happy to make a new friend. I’m John by the way. My friends call me Dr. John. You can call me John though.”

“Well, I’m going to call you Captain America, alright? And I have to get back to my set now. And you seem a little slick for me to be honest.” And with that she grabbed him by his cheeks, pulled him towards her, and kissed him on the lips. It was a bold move and it caught him by surprise.

He was back in the city.