Bubbles of longing

Some longtime readers may remember that I have a soft spot for John Steinbeck. Particularly for two stories set in Monterey California; 'Cannery Row' and 'Sweet Thursday'.

Every few years I reread them and have never really given much thought to what draws me back.  However, the personal story of a journaler I follow has finally helped me figured it out.

The central character around which both books revolve is a man called 'Doc'.  He is a marine biologist who lives on the row and makes his living collecting specimens from the sea, and selling them to schools and universities.

I never realized it before, but I have always loved Doc.  Every other character in the two stories  looks to Doc for help or advice... and without exception they all have the deepest desire and purest intention to 'do something nice for Doc someday'.

The problem is, the characters with which Steinbeck has populated Doc's small world are poor... or even indigent... and mostly are left to simply wish that fate or G-d or provenance will intercede on their behalf and 'do something nice for Doc'.

We all know someone like that... a person whose very existence makes us happy just thinking about them... a person from whom we receive wisdom, or even joy.  Invariably when we see these people (or even think about them) our thoughts turn to how much we wish good things for them.

If we were children we would rush to action and draw a picture or pick a flower and run without hesitation to let the person know how special they are... how important their happiness is to us.

But we aren't children... and we seem to have forgotten how to channel our braided feelings of gratitude, affection and bonhomie.

These two Steinbeck books give us a rare glimpse at the inner workings of this lovable man called 'Doc'  We are told that his soul sings in three voices. 

"The top voice of his mind sang peacefulness and order, and the raucous middle voice was gentle; it rumbled and snarled but could not be heard.  The lower voice of all was silent, dreaming of a warm safe sea." *

This description of his inner contentment came from a point in 'Sweet Thursday' where Doc was happy with his lot... doing the familiar work that made him comfortable and safe.  He was content.

This type of personal contentment was a large part of what first attracted me (and likely most other readers) to Doc's character.  He was a rare uncomplicated person who had identified the things that made him most secure and happy... and he spent his time quietly celebrating those things away from the prying eyes of the rest of the world.

This quality of personal contentment/fulfillment... of being truly happy with her lot... is also what first attracted me to a San Francisco journaler/artist/photographer named Andrea Scher. 

I have been reading Andrea for years as she has modestly allowed a peek at the things that make her happy; her husband, her friends, her artwork, her photography... her life. 

Andrea's the journaler I want to be when I grow up!

Nearly every one of her posts is a conduit to her inner voices.  Although she has hundreds, or even thousands, of readers... each one is made to feel that a rare confidence has been imparted... a secret shared. 

Andrea's top voice is always full of plans and excitement... her middle voice sings primly of a penchant for sensible decadence and quiet hedonism.  And her bottom voice has always been a quiet lullaby of contentment with her life, her love... her world.

But things are not always as they seem... especially to our heroes.

When Doc is alone with himself in his laboratory late at night struggling unconsciously to define what is suddenly missing from his life... a life that everyone else assumes is perfect and complete... he is startled when "the bottom voice mourned "Lonesome!  Lonesome!  Let me up into the light and warmth! Lonesome!"" **

Amid the beautiful photographs... the stunning jewelry creations... the descriptions of friends and celebrations... the personal and professional adventures and successes... Andrea has occasionally allowed us to hear a small whisper of her most private lower voice. 

In so many of her photographs Andrea documented her friend's transition through the beautiful stages of pregnancy and motherhood.  Yet for those who followed her writing and tracked the trajectory of her charmed life, a careful observer could discern something missing... a picture hanging slightly askew.

Doc had been startled by the simple message delivered by his inner voice, but he immersed himself in the things that had always made him happy in an attempt to rediscover the calm, happy person who people found it so easy to love and be around.  But that person had changed... and was no longer there.  His friends sensed the change even before he fully admitted it to himself.

Doc's inner longing finally bubbled unbidden to the surface while he sat in a restaurant with the woman who had unwittingly made him aware of the void in his life.  As he sat across the table from her, "the low voice of Doc's gut burst through at last.  "I'm lonely", he said. He said it as a simple matter of fact and he said it in wonder. Then he apologized." ***

Andrea had such a lapse a few months ago on her site.  She isn't the type to be an infertility blogger or to rage at the unfairness of all the people she loves and respects moving on to this next stage in life without her.  Yet she allowed her readers a rare peek at her inner disappointment and loneliness... and in typical Superhero fashion, managed to comfort her readers when it was she who so clearly needed a hug.

I've juxtaposed these two lives... one fictional and one real... to point out that sometimes our heroes are rewarded with some of the good things we wish for them.  Sometimes fate or providence or G-d seem to answer the innermost pleas of those about whom we care.

I don't know if this is what has happened with Andrea and her husband, but I'd like to think that sometimes... when someone's inner longing for personal completion is allowed to innocently bubble to the surface... we are allowed to see 'nice things' come to those who richly deserve them.

This is obviously not always the case.  In life - as in fiction - there are also sad endings and tragedies.  Not every hero we root for is allowed to end up with the prize.  This is why I can't bring myself to shout the happy stuff I'm feeling right now.  I'm bound by my knowledge of both tradition and literature to confine my excitement to a simmer of quiet optimism. 

For those who don't understand Hebrew (or who might be confused by the incongruity of saying 'at a good time' to an expectant mother, instead of something like 'congratulations' or 'Mazal Tov')... we superstitious Jews shy away from making a fuss over good news that has yet to come to fruition, so we grin like idiots and obliquely mention that 'things should happen 'at a good time'.

B'Sha'ah Tovah Andrea!   

[Thank you to my lovely wife Zahava for practically shouting "Go read Andrea right this second" when I staggered in from work a little after 11:00 last night.]

* Source, ** Source, *** Source