Return

It was a dark and stormy night (I’ve always wanted to use that line, haven’t you?). He stood outside the building, looking from across the street. It was a large building, emanating light, warmth and sound into the cold, dark night. Collar pulled up tight around his neck, his breath visible in the frigid air, he wondered how he would be received when he knocked on the door.

He had been inside the building before, of course. A part of the club. At one time he had many friends inside the building. He would come and go, as did all the others, and was welcomed back every time. He enjoyed his time inside, mingling and exchanging stories and comments with others. Generally he was well received by most of the people inside. Rarely did he offend.

But one day he visited the building, made the rounds, told his story and left. And never came back.

He wasn’t missed initially, at first. The nature of the building was such that short absences were hardly noticed, even expected. But over time his absence was noted, by some, particularly since he had been somewhat of a regular in the building.

These memories went through his mind as he stepped off the curb, crossed the street and made his way, slowly, up to the front door.

He approached the large door and paused, seeing once again the sign that he remembered so well from his first visit.

‘Welcome to the Blogosphere,’ it read.

He smiled as he remembered his first entry through this portal.

The building was crowded then, as he entered that first time, along with several thousand others. Hard to imagine how he could feel so lonely, surrounded by millions of people. Yet alone he was, or felt, as he made his first tentative forays into sharing his thoughts and ideas with others.

As with most of the new entrants, it took time for him to find others who were interested in what he had to say. Still, believing in himself, enamored with the forum and, as always, excited by new things, he continued to enter the building, often several times a week. And over time he found people; or more correctly, people found him – people who were interested in his thoughts and ideas.

Then, abruptly, he left. And didn’t return.

What would those same people say now, as he stood at the threshold once again?

He cleared these thought from his mind. He stepped up to the door and rang the bell.

She came to the door almost immediately and flung it open. It was her - The Reader. Just as he knew it would be. She was one of many Readers, to be sure, but representational in his mind of them all.

The nature of the community is such that one rarely knows those his or her thoughts and ideas are shared with. The nature of his thoughts and ideas, being based upon family, he felt tended to be read more often by women. For him, as he prepared his thoughts, he visualized his readers and formed an image of one to represent the many. In his case, it was a woman. An intelligent, strikingly beautiful woman.

Who now, standing before him, was prepared to give him hell.

“Mann,” she said. “Family Mann. Somehow I new you’d walk back through my door someday.”

He smiled, started to say something, when she swung her fist and cold-cocked him across the jaw, nearly dropping him.

“That’s for leaving us high and dry,” she said.

He wryly appreciated the Indiana Jones moment.

“I can explain,” he started to say, but she cut him off.

“Where the hell have you been?” she asked. “Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t care.”

She glowered at him.

“What I want to know is why? Why stop visiting us and sharing your thoughts? Why, after being such a regular visitor, did you just go away and not even leave a note saying what was going on?”

He started to answer, but she cut him off again.

“You don’t owe us anything. That’s how it is in here, we all know that. People come, people go, some stay longer than others. We all accept that.”

“But there are some people here who enjoyed what you had to say. Even if you are pompous, pretentious and full of yourself, some of us enjoyed hearing about your kids. Some of us liked hearing about Chris and Tommy. We liked to hear about the birthday party, about the hardware store, the sledding.”

She went on, "I can't speak for others, but I missed your wierd dreams, your back to the future moments, your back to the past moments."

“Even when you made me cry,” she said, “I still liked your contributions.”

He understood her. He could imagine how she felt. He did, in his own way, feel bad for not returning. And as she pointed out, it is the nature of the building – people come, people go, and there are no long-term commitments required.

Still, he had his reasons. Though he knew didn’t have to justify his actions to anyone, he wanted to clear up some things, to bring closure to it, if you will.

Plus, he’s not the type to let someone browbeat him over anything.

Not to mention the fact that his jaw hurt from her punch.

“Not that I owe you an explanation,’ he said, “but because I like you, I’ll tell you. I stayed away for a number of reasons.”

“First, it was the holidays. I got very busy. I have kids, remember? When you’re five years old, Christmas is a pretty big deal. Chris and Tommy were so excited, and I wanted to spend the time with them and make sure they had a great Christmas.”

“Could I have written about that? I guess. But I didn’t. I was having too much fun to sit down at the computer and try to recreate everything we did. There aren’t going to be too many Christmases left where someone in my house still believes in Santa Claus. This was important, and I didn’t want to miss a moment of it.”

“We also got sick, all of us, in my house. Tommy still is sick. You may not know this, but if you are three years old and have asthma, a cold is a pretty miserable thing. I have a cough and runny nose for a few days, it’s an inconvenience. For Tommy, it’s a Medical Situation. He went to the doctor three times over a two-week period, once at 9:30 an night when he woke up coughing so hard he threw up phlegm. So I had other things to think about than stopping by to say hello.”

She said, “Don’t you think we all have personal issues? Is that an excuse?”

He was getting worked up now.

“I don’t need an excuse, remember? None of us do. I’m flattered that you even seem to care whether I visit or not– that’s why I’m here now. But here’s another ‘excuse’. You may remember that in addition to my visits here, I keep a journal for each of my boys – a detailed journal about the things that happen in their lives. I started when we first found out that MBW was pregnant with Chris. I’ve kept a journal from Chris now for over six years, and over four for Tommy. I’ve included photos. Chris’s journal is up to nearly 300 pages now, and Tommy’s is approaching 200. But I’ve been neglecting these journals since I started coming by this place, and I realized over Christmas that I needed to devote more time to those journals, even at the expense of coming here. When I look back on things in 20 years, those journals will mean a lot more to my boys, and to me, than the time I spent here.”

“Not to mention that I’d like to spend a bit more quality time with MBW in 2006. Perhaps you’ve heard me talk about how hot she is? She’s all that! More time with her, and less with you, might be a better use of my time as well.”

She glowered sullenly. She didn’t care for the MBW reference.

“And there’s this,” he added. “My Mom died last year. I talked about how much she loved Christmas, how she loved to spoil the boys and hear about what they did over Christmas. It was hard to go through the holidays and not be able to share that with her. Despite the fun and joy we had over the holidays, at night, when everyone else was in bed asleep, I sat alone by the fire and cried.”

“But here’s the kicker. Guess what? I couldn’t think of anything to say. The one thing about his place is that you get punished if you have nothing to say. Show up here with nothing and you get ignored. If you don’t have something to say here you might as well stay home. It just so happens that I’m not a fan of putting something out there and having it fall flat. I’ve done that before and don’t want to do it again. So when I don’t have something to say, I’m going to stay away until I do.”

He stopped, having said his piece.

They glowered at each other – she, The Reader, and Mann.

She broke the silence. “So what is it going to be? Are you back?”

He paused for a moment.

“I’m not sure,” he said honestly. “I just don’t know. I want to come back, but it’s going to have to be on my terms. I don’t think I’ll be back as often as I once was. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do what I did before. I may want to try some new things. We’ll just have to see.’

“That’s fair,” she said. “I can’t speak for everyone. I’m sure some people who once looked forward to your visits won’t welcome you when you return.”

She hesitated.

“But I will,” she said softly. “I like your words.”

He was touched. At the end of the day that’s why he visited this place. The opportunity to communicate, on a very basic, human level, with people from across the world, people he would never meet or share ideas with if it were not for this place.

“What do you think you’ll say, if you come back?” she asked.

He pondered this for a moment. “We’ll of course I’ll talk about Chris and Tommy. I have a few ideas. I may go out on a limb once in a while. But when I don’t, I’ll stay away. And in doing so, if you or others choose not to welcome me or visit with me when I do come back, well, that’s how it goes. I can live with that.”

She looked at him, wondering whether to believe him. Could she trust him? Would he come back? She didn’t want to continue to make time for him if she wasn’t sure she could trust him to do what he said.

But as she thought about it, she had to admit he’d been honest with her. And that was all she could ask of anyone.

He turned to leave. “Thank you for your time,” he said. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. One thing you may not know about me is that I hate to disappoint people. I have some history in my life in that area, and I’ve always been sensitive to it. But as I get older I realize that sometimes it’s unavoidable. It wasn’t intentional, but that doesn’t lessen your disappointment. Hopefully now I’ve clarified, apologized, and set realistic expectations for all of us.”

She smiled wanly.

“Thanks for coming back,” she said. “I hope to see you soon.”

“You will,” he said, as he walked out into the dark, cold night.

And as he did, he thought once again about how great it is to be The Family Man.