Life is more or less (some days more, some days less)

Books are my comfort food, so when I got some bad news the other day, my first thought was, "What can I read that will make me feel better?"

I didn't have anything at home that I thought would help (no steamy, trashy distractions or fun, therapeutic reflections), so I headed to a local bookstore and discovered "The Modern Jewish Girl's Guide to Guilt."

As soon as I started the first essay, I knew I was in the right place. It began:

Here is the scene. Something good just happened. I am happy about it. Maybe it was a good writing day, or I am in a good relationship, or I have helped someone, or I feel a sense of self in a true, deep way. I am walking to the market, to buy myself a peach and fizzy water. It's a beautiful day. Or, it's not, but my mood is so high that it doesn't matter. I myself am a beautiful blue day.

Little do I know that the piano shipment in the freight airplane high above me has had a mishap. The baby grand piano, which was right at the bottom of the aircraft, has come loose. Someone didn't lock that airplane door, at the bottom. He was drunk. He was in a bad mood. The piano wasn't tied properly. It has been hanging there, by three legs -- by two legs -- by one leg -- and now it has tumbled out of the airplane. I am still walking to the store. Whistle, whistle. I do a little skip.

Miles above me, whirring through the air, is this giant black piano, gaining speed as it goes. Free-falling. I am thinking about the good thing that has happened today, thinking about it. How nice I feel. How glad I am today. You'd think I would look up at the whirring sound, and maybe the cars honk at me to look up, but I am oblivious, content, and proud. I step right into the path, and the piano flattens me like a pancake.

Better keep my eyes up. Better be vigilant, particularly on those good days. Any good day not marked by worry and vigilance will be met with tragedy.

This is how I live -- always looking for the falling piano. So when it falls, I am prepared. And when there is no sign of one falling (in other words, when I'm content), I worry and wait.

In the book's introduction, the editor says, "Between the ideal of who you should be, and the reality of who you are, lies guilt." I live in that territory.

Life is more or less between ideal and reality. Some days more, some days less.

Comments

[Zwiedawurzn]

i am always waiting for the piano to drop, although in my head it's a huge slab of concrete. often i work out terrible scenarios in my head, just so i can be prepared. real life is never as bad as the scenarios in my head :). it's a relief to see that there are others like me out there...

[cassie-b]

My mother was German, but she was very good at dishing out the guilt. I learned early.

[heather]

I came on your blog kind of accidently but your post really caught my attention. I loved it.. Im not jewish, but I relate to that story so well. I will have to pick up a copy of it.

[Terry]

Funny -- I had a falling piano premonition just last Sunday. Two good things happened and after 10 buoyant minutes, I wondered what bad was bound to happen. For all I know, it's going to be an Acme anvil en route to Wile E. Coyote...

[Donna]

So it's a Jewish thing. That's a relief.

[Sarah]

Yeah, me, too. And I'm not even Jewish.

[gm]

The problem with watching the sky for falling pianos is, while you're craning your neck looking up, you are liable to stub your toe on one on the ground down here.

[Julie]

I think I need to try that book (and - off topic here - I've had a friend recommend Waiting for Birdy too, so it's on my list as well).

I used to wait for that piano. Sometimes I still suspect that it's up there, but usually only when I have some reason to think so. Much of the time now I'm pretty relaxed (although I'll admit that "relaxed" is relative - not everyone would agree with my characterization of myself as relaxed). I think it's due in part to my husband, who is annoyingly optimistic, and in part to my kids, who have given me more perspective in the past three years than I gained in the thirty before that.