Belonging

I'm a pretty independent sort. My unsaid mantra, adopted I think when I was in early high school, has been I don't need anyone. It sounds like, "Ok, so they don't want me, I don't need them." I went on to live the life of the odd man out. Or at least it seemed to feel that way.

My only real comparison was my younger brother, who was as long as I can remember, the star - the big man on campus guy - always popular, always liked and with lots of friends. Belonging appeared to be effortless for him. I watched him work at his friendships in ways that appeared easy to him. Of course he might disagree with my characterization of the easiness of it, and that's how it occurred to me.

Oh I had a few school/neighborhood friends but it always seemed like they too were the odd men out, the fringe-of-the-popular crowd so to speak. By comparison my brother was a basketball and track star, while I was an art major and school photographer who went on canoe trips. I always wondered what it took to fit in and never, even to this day, figured that out. So with the exception of my wife Anne and my children, my strategy has been to go it alone.

I've done and continue to do lots of things alone, even today. And I find myself most content, most at ease and peaceful when doing so. I fish by myself, play golf by myself, and hike in the woods by myself. My most spiritual experiences are when fishing by myself.

When I lived in the Philadelphia area I had some good men friends, guys with whom I shared common interests in business, in transformational activities/interests/commitments, along with a local community of friends that both Anne and I played with, engaged with, and contributed to for 25 years.

Then we moved to NC to be near our daughter and that Philadelphia community faded into the background, kept in existence only by my participation in Facebook and occasional trips back north. I made some men friends here in NC mainly around the golf community of other neighborhood retired guys and through social activities fostered by Anne - she can go belong anywhere at the drop of a hat.

And still there has been no sense of belonging as in being anchored. It's always occurred like I'm just passing through, on the outside of the geezers group, tolerated, maybe even accepted, but not really in, you know? So back I went to doing things alone. Well this past weekend I had an experience with some men friends that confronted my strategy, with guys I would have in the past, called golfing "buddies".

We went to the Carolina coast for  3-day golfing outing. We drove three hours each way, played on three courses over the three days, cheering on each other's good shots, teasing about each other's bad shots, and solacing each other when the dreaded yips showed up during the inevitable bad run of holes. They teased me the whole weekend, about my lack of appreciation for southern sole food and vowed to introduce me to multiple foul sounding foods such as grits and gravy, Brunswick stew, Jones sausage, corn dogs and breakfast biscuits with meat gravy.

We went to see, and all enjoyed, The Martian at the movies. We had our meals together. We shared our politics, our war stories, and our childhood stories - finding as the weekend unfolded that we have a good deal in common. The weekend left me feeling  we had a mutual respect and fondness for each other. It certainly occurred that way for me.

I came home from our outing having thoroughly enjoyed the time together and realizing it was so much fun because I got to share it with the other guys. Even today, the day after we're back, I still feel it. They of course may be unaware of the gift they gave me. And it was truly a gift - given without anything expected in return, without any ulterior motives, leaving me finally, here at 74, belonging.