I want to talk about Golden Corral. Partly that’s because I went there today, but partly it’s because I see it as a metaphor. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Today was my triumphant return to the United States of America. (Yes, technically I visited when I swung by Detroit, but that was just a preview; now I’m back for good). I was supposed to cycle through a bunch of lakeside Northern Ohio bedroom communities, but route 6 just wasn’t doing it for me, and for no good reason, I started googling buffet restaurants, and found a Golden Corral (!) about 20 miles away, and about 10 miles off route. Now, 99.9% of people - and probably 100% of touring cyclists - would’ve ridden right past Elyrie, OH without a second thought. But not me - 10 minutes later I was winding my way through suburbs on that unique sort of trip that happens when you let Google Maps plan your life.(An aside: Google amuses me. If I thinks it can save you 1 minute or one tenth of a mile, it will literally take you down the garden path. Today I rode through a gated apartment complex, presumably because it was the straightest line between my two points).
An aside to tell a story or two. As I was biking through the suburbs, I stopped to take a picture. And while I stopped, I heard a voice off to my right. A kid was sitting on the stoop. He looked the way I *thought* I looked in high school; kind of disheveled and a bit too heavy. He asked how long I'd been riding, and I told him, and he said "Hoooooly Cow." I felt good. But I also felt for him. I hope he goes on an adventure of his own. A second story: as I was walking unlocking my bike in front of the Golden Corral, a man came up and said "Wow! You've got it figured out!" "How so?" I said. "You ride up to the restaurant so you don't end up looking like the rest of us! Ha ha ha!" :( :(.
Anyway, an hour or two later, I had a plate of catfish, green bean casserole, and endless cookies and admittedly mediocre pie - lined up as far as the hungry eye could see. It was terrible - both in the literal sense and the poetic sense, as in a Grand, Terrible Brightness that forced me to look away. I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate than with this uniquely American thing. I’ve travelled to other cities around the world, and I can’t think of a single one that could hold a Golden Corral. In no other society on earth could you charge $15 for all the food a person could possibly eat, and still make money. Whether that’s a good thing or bad is very much open to debate, but as an engineer and as a poet, I have to admire the breathtaking hubris made real. It's likely that I was the only person in that whole place that - nutritionally - was even close to needing to be there, and I probably don't even qualify. Like the Golden Gate Bridge, Golden Corral is a fierce and terrible dream that should never have been true, but is. And it is delicious, and it will always remind me of home.
Change of topic. I have a friend - many of them, actually, but there’s one in particular that I’m thinking about right now - that I understand very well. I have a lot of insight into her and her life. I think I understand her a lot better than she even thinks, and certainly a lot better than I let on. The irony of my life is that I’ve been told on a number of occasions that I’m actually very perceptive, emotionally. Of course, I am certainly wrong sometimes, but the fact remains - and I say this without ego - I’m not wrong often. But the problem is, I don’t know what to do with that knowledge. When I was younger, I would have been very open and straightforward with those opinions and thoughts and that understanding. I’ve always been a believer in honesty and communication. Sadly, it just hasn’t worked out - certainly not in my favor, but also not in theirs. Whatever the reason - be it that I’m not a good communicator, or that I’m not the right vehicle for the message, or it’s just none of my damn business, or that my timing is bad, or all of the above and more, when I try to use what I feel or think I know to try to help others, it (just about) always backfires, and ends up making them - and myself - upset. So the temptation is there to just back off, to do nothing. But that feels so lousy. It feels inauthentic, cowardly. It’s stressful. One of the things I tried to do to get out of this conundrum - damned if you do, damned if you don’t - is to become a better communicator. And I do think I’ve made some small amount of progress. But nowhere near enough, and nowhere near fast enough. All the classes in Non Violent Communication, the meditation, the yoga - it’s helped a little, but it hasn’t really addressed the core problem; I’m basically a truth-teller, and people don’t want to know the truth. And I get that; they’re not wrong. I see that in my own life, when people tell me truth I’m not ready for. Truth that isn’t presented in a useful and compassionate way, truth that isn’t given with love, in the right time, is just bluntness. Being right doesn’t absolve you of the need to be kind. I know that, I see that, I agree with that, which is why I keep things to myself. But that - while it may make it easier to make and keep friends - ultimately makes me very sad. Like a greyhound that can’t race, I feel cooped up, like I’m wasting the better part of me. And it breeds isolation, inward thinking, lack of compassion. It makes me feel alone. And I don’t like that feeling. But I don’t like anger and losing friends either. I don’t know; I think there’s an answer here, but I’m not sure yet what it is.
