I was taught that a man’s pain is private. It wasn’t one of those direct lessons but rather one absorbed it somehow until it was right. After the war…and for my generation there was only one “THE WAR” . It was WW2 and it chewed on family members, uncles, fathers friends fathers and uncles and we grew up with it. When it ended…hundreds of thousands were cast adrift in search of the wonderful life they’d promised themselves during the war. But they were carrying a lot of baggage. Emotional, physical, social. And there was pain…pain that didn’t get talked about. Things seen and done that couldn’t be shared. Nightmares that couldn’t be explained…and the bottle. In my youth…there was always the bottle. Under the seat in the pick up…on the shelf in the kitchen…on the side board, in the tool box…
Bartenders swore that there were actual holes in the mirrors behind the bar where ex soldiers stared right through them. Wives just swore. Kids? well, they always say that kids know more than they let on. Kids talk to other kids and what they don’t collectively understand …they invent. All that stuff about a man’s pain being private? It’s bullshit, of course, but it was a code that many lived by and still do today. It isn’t just wars and soldiers…it’s the pain of unfulfilled hopes and failed chances. It’s physical pain…it’s the pain of growing old…or being alone. We pull up our socks, square up our shoulders, stick out our chests, chin up…eyes straight ahead…and carry on.
These two guys are having a conversation, they’re sharing confidences in a code that’s old, old, old. They talk about it…what ever “it” is without really saying “it”. They finally surround it with words and thoughts and digressions and denials and nods and sighs and head shakes…and “how about another drinks” until they come to the moment of silence…They’ve covered “it ” and then the older guy …on the left, sums it all up.
“Well, that’s it then.” He says….Meeting adjourned.
Chagal4's Blog 
Leave a comment