I’ve missed a few days of writing/posting. I’ve been busy – pursuing fun, eschewing discipline… I’ve been in Memphis for just over 4 days. I’ve seen lots of live music, had way too much beer, missed my ex-fiancee, B, more than I imagined, met lots (ok, maybe a handful) of new people, and learned a thing or two about my new hometown.
The preamble, as they often are, is just a way to wander in to what I want to write about. One of the new people I met was Carlos. We hung out for a few hours, exchanged stories, drank, bonded.
On the suggestion of a bartender at Flying Saucer, I went to a place called Bardog. I was told it’s where locals hang out. It’s a few blocks from my apartment… a nice night for an easy walk. At about 5:15, there were maybe a dozen people in the place. It’s mostly dark wood and not particularly well lit. The bar stools are red leathery swivel chairs – a little too deep to sit all the way back. Some squeak – which always sounded like the door opening. There was one empty spot when I walked in. I asked for an IPA, they were out of all IPAs on tap, which seemed a bit of a surprise because it’s definitely a Coors and Miller Light bottle crowd. The couple to the left of me (friends) were hanging with a surly old guy. The type of guy who wants everyone to know he speaks his mind – gruff, unapologetic, and proud. It’s a smoking bar and surly guy had taken a few smokes from the woman who had left her cigarettes at the bar. She walked out earlier for a job interview or something like that. He bought a round of shots to make up for stealing her smokes. I sat staring blankly at the TV, looking at the specials, the menu of beers that aren’t on tap, and wondering if I could get a menu. I eavesdropped in and out of the group’s conversation. She had just gotten out of a relationship – sounds like the bo needed to work on himself a bit and didn’t want to do it. “He needed to do it for him, not anyone else.” It’s hard to love someone else if you don’t have love for yourself.
I can’t remember how Carlos (the guy to my right) and I started talking. He said something to initiate, might have asked where to find music. I mentioned that I had just moved here. He thought that was fortuitous – he was on a road trip and just got in to town a few hours earlier – two newbies. Carlos works in sales. He used to sell Toyotas in Champaign, IL, but just took a new job in the insurance biz. He lives in Aurora, IL. His family lives there too. He’s 23 and just out of the military. He’s on his way to El Paso where he was stationed. He’s gonna meet up with some of his army buddies. He was a tank guy – he blew shit up in the middle east. Carlos didn’t like the military, but he loved the guys he hung out and drank with. He said he’s learning how important it is to take some time and get re-energized before starting his new gig.
We talked about car sales – I asked him how the financials work out. He said, what you might expect – “it all depends.” If the customer looks things up online, it’s hard to make much money. If it’s a car where they don’t have much wiggle room, he might make $100 on the sale. It’s a volume business – “it’s all about moving metal.” Carlos was in a good market. If you wanted a Toyota, you knew where to go. Most of their customers were the 60+ crowd. Loyal Toyota owners who came back every three years. One of his best months was in July when he sold 33 cars and made eight grand.
I told him a bit of my story. Married for a long time, divorced and started over. Met the woman of my dreams, and then boom lost the the girl, the dog, and the best friend all in one swoop (no she didn’t run away with the best friend, the friend chose a side when there were no sides). I didn’t feel like starting over again, and that maybe a change of scenery was in order. I told him I had decided if I can’t have love in my life, I’m gonna fill my life with music – hence Memphis. He asked me what I thought love meant. “what did it feel and look like.” It was a pretty deep question and I couldn’t tell if he was asking because he’s experienced heartbreak or because he’s never been in love, or just wanted a different take on things. The best I could come up with was that being in B’s presence was like being surrounded by light. Seeing the world through her eyes, and sharing experiences with her was like nothing I’ve felt before. We were always at home with each other (I didn’t use the word home – I should have – it’s my favorite word).
We talked a bit about things like work (the concept), motivation, confidence, what it means to be a man in today’s world. Carols hopes to make his million in the next 10 years. He wants to buy rental properties and earn residual income. He talked about not giving a fuck about what other people think, yet his motivation for becoming rich was to show the people back home that he could do it, that a brown person could be successful. The conversation sometimes swerved in to race, and he said he’d love to be white, he admires how successful a lot of white people are. This is the second conversation where someone has said this to me. It makes me think the “oppression,” if that’s the right word, penetrates deep in to the psyche. I challenged Carlos on why he needs an audience for his success – can he find a way to do well for the sake of doing well? He started to see that a good part of his motivation is intrinsic, but quickly fell back to wanting the gold for the sake of having the gold. It was tough to get anything personal out of him. I tried to figure out where things like friends, family, love all fit in to his life….
We had a moment when we were talking about compassion and trying to see the world through different perspectives and different eyes. I sometimes share with people my thoughts on Jerry Sandusky. I have no idea what Sandusky’s inner thoughts were, but when the whole scandal broke, I spent a few minutes trying to imagine what it must be like to face yourself in the mirror knowing the world thinks you’re a monster because of your sexual desires. Anytime I talk about this I have to have lots and lots of caveats…. I can’t possibly condone, excuse, or justify Sandusky’s actions. What I can do is pose the very challenging question of what to do with people whose actions violate our moral code, though perhaps they are “wired” or conditioned or both to behave the way they do. It’s easy to have moral indignation. It’s easy to condemn. The thought challenge is to put yourself in the monster’s shoes. Talking about this with Carlos… he sat back in his chair, looked at me for a minute then unexpectedly leaned in to a huge hug and high five, said he loved me for thinking these things and being honest and deep. By this time the surly guy had left, but the other patrons took notice. Carlos was a few Long Island Iced Teas in to the night so his exuberance wasn’t on the down low. If I had to guess, he’s felt like the outsider. If I had to guess, like many of us, Carlos isn’t always comfortable in his own skin. He drinks a good bit, and walks through life with a bit of a chip on his shoulder.
We got our checks and made our way towards Beale St. We were both hungry and the smoke at Bardog was unappetizing. I haven’t been to a lot of restaurants yet, so I suggested The Flying Saucer (despite the bartender’s unsuccessful recommendation of Bardog, they have a good beer list and I had a great burger there). Carlos ordered another Iced Tea and I had a beer. We split an order of wings, and we each had a burger. The vibe (and lighting) was much brighter. Lots of televisions showing sports games, people in jerseys cheering. Carlos was decidedly quieter. The booze was hitting him pretty hard. A couple of times he commented on how fucked up he was. Four Long Islands will do that to you.
We had a few more shallow dives in to life, his ten-year plan, my lack of a plan. At 23 Carlos has the world in front of him. He’s eager, high energy, and certain he’s gonna show the world what he’s made of. I was probably more preachy than I wanted to be. But he asked questions. He wanted to connect. and I connect best by sharing my experiences. I saw a young man with a lot of enthusiasm, a plan, and maybe some hidden motivations that he’s struggling to understand. To Carlos I preached compassion because I got the sense that he could use a bit of self-compassion. I warned him against ambition because the flip side of it can be unhappiness. I talked about the acceptance and beauty of imperfection, understanding of others as the well-spring of confidence, and being willing to walk and stand with people even when it makes you uncomfortable.
For a few hours in a strange town we stood together, talked, and tried to walk in each other’s shoes. Then Carlos stumbled off drunkenly in to the Memphis night. While he avoided talking about them, I’m sure somewhere Carlos has people who miss him and worry about him. We find comfort in strangers because it’s easier than the judgment (real or perceived) of our loved ones. Be well Carlos.