Bud Part 12: A Welcome Home Party

In today's excerpt Bud, recently graduated from the Institute for Positive Living, interacts with old friends at a "welcome home" party, managing to offend some with his new outlook.


*******************************************************************

"You don't get it, do you? A month ago you couldn't get out of bed and now you act like the world is your oyster!" She sobbed again. "I can't take it-- it's too drastic a change. It's like I'm suddenly married to someone else!"

Bud sat down and held her hand tenderly. "But you are married to someone else," he said. "Would you prefer the blob in the chair?"

"I don't know," she said. "Just give me some time to adjust. By the way, I've invited a few of our friends over Friday night for a welcome home party. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind? I'm delighted."

"Good. I worked swing shift last night so I'm going to bed."

"Would you like me to join you?"

"No thanks. I've been sleeping alone for so long, even when you were in the bed, that I wouldn't know what to do."

"OK dear, I understand, but just consider the invitation open. I really want to make love to you!"

Martha got a horrified look on her face and fled to the bedroom.

The routine of work comforted Martha for the next several days. Co-workers asked about her husband. "He's much better, thank you," she said without elaborating. Meanwhile Bud was a virtual dervish of activity, gardening, painting, cleaning, and mailing resumes to every conceivable computer firm. He made dinner and even washed the dishes-- there was virtually no housework for her to do except the wash. Soon it was Friday evening and the party was upon them. Before the guests' arrival she sat down with Bud for a talk.

"Honey?"

"Yes, dear."

How was she going to put this? There was no good way to say it. "When our guests come tonight, do you think you can tone it down a little-- I mean your positive thinking? Maybe talk a little less or something, nod a little more?"

Bud looked at her with chagrin. "But how can I? This is me now. I'm not some computer program you can turn on or off. I'm a human being, loveable and unique. I just have to be myself."

"But Bud, remember, these people have not seen you in a long time and they haven't gone through your training. I just don't want you sounding like an Amway salesman at a horse show, if you get my meaning."

"I'll do my best," Bud promised, "but to quote Popeye, 'I yam what I yam.' If this causes you embarrassment you're more than welcome to make excuses for me or just ask me to leave."

"But you're the reason for the party!"

"Then I guess you're stuck with me, dear."

As the guests arrived, Bud was solicitous in collecting coats and handbags. He greeted everyone warmly: firm, double-clasped handshakes for the men and light hugs with a peck on the cheek for the women. He exclaimed how marvelous they all looked and how glad he was to see them. Martha was relieved that no one seemed offended by his enthusiasm.
As they settled in for drinks, Bud found himself talking to Gerri and John. "So how's it going, guys?" he said innocuously.

"As well as can be expected," Gerri answered.

John toyed with his drink. "You know about our daughter, Katy."

Bud searched his memory. He nodded understandingly.

"She's seventeen now and her cystic fibrosis is worse," John continued. "She just got out of the hospital a week ago." Bud saw the pain etched on their faces.

"Most of them don't live much beyond twenty," John added.

Bud nodded wisely. "I know it must be difficult for you," he said, "but think of the closeness this illness has brought you with your daughter. I bet you don't have that kind of intimacy with your other children."

"You know, we don't," commented John. "That's a blessing we need to be reminded of."

"Yes," Gerri said, "and it takes a special person to see that."

"Thank you," Bud said gravely. "How are things otherwise?"

"Well," said Gerri, "we think Grandma is getting Alzheimer's. She's not so bad yet but she's becoming very forgetful. We took away her car keys and now we're concerned about leaving her alone."

"Ah, yes, Alzheimer's disease," Bud said. "It's very common and so little understood. But one positive thing about it is how forgetfulness adds spice to one's life. Just think: a hot fudge sundae might taste like the first one you ever ate. And you can watch your favorite videos over and over just like they were new releases. Every day can be an entirely new day, full of surprises. And sex can be like the first time, every time!"

Gerri gave an abashed look at John, who frowned back. Martha swept to the rescue and asked if they'd like their drinks refilled, sending Bud to the bar. "Did he say anything strange?" she whispered.

"Nothing too terrible," John said, "though his take on Alzheimer's disease might be considered unusual by some."

"Thank goodness!" Martha exclaimed. "I think he's just taken this positive thinking too far. Here he comes."

Bud returned with the glasses as Martha announced, "The food's ready!"

As the guests lined up at the buffet, Bud found himself between Irving and Diane. "How you guys doing?" he said.

"Fine," Irving replied, "especially since we're getting a free meal."

"Glad to hear it. How are things at home?"

Diane gave a worried glance at Irving. "Well there is Brook-- we've had some problems."

"What sort of problems?"

"Drug problems," Irving said with a finality that attempted to close the subject.

"Sorry to hear that," Bud said. "But what a character builder! Some of the strongest people I've met are those who've overcome a drug problem!"

"Yeah, well she hasn't overcome it yet," Irving said angrily. "In fact, she just OD'd last month for the third time."

"Third time's a charm," Bud said, grinning. "Maybe this time she'll get it. And if she really wanted to kill herself she would have done it by now so these are probably just 'cries for help.' She's telling you how much she values your support."

"Yeah, well I wish she'd send me a postcard instead," Irving fumed, and turned his back on Bud to load his plate. His hands were shaking with rage. Martha spotted it and asked for Bud's help in the kitchen. He didn't seem to notice he'd offended anyone.

So the evening progressed, Martha occasionally asking her guests' indulgence for Bud's comments, he cheerful throughout, never meaning to give offense. When the guests were gone they sat down together over a cup of coffee.

Bud Graduates from the Institiute for Positive Living

Today Bud graduates and is reunited with his longsuffering wife, Martha.

Last night I had a lovely dinner with artist/poet/disability advocate Pat Jones, her husband, Richard, and their beloved son, Taylor. After watching Kansas dust North Carolina, wine, pizza and dessert, we jawed about many litnet friends, from the late Ron Jones of Avatar to Paul Stevens of Shit Creek Review. Pat and Richard have a beautiful house with a view of a creek emptying into an ocean cove.

Three days ago in an undepressed moment I saw a doohickey in a planter on Main Street that I had to have. Called a "Rainbow Triple Spinner," by WindGarden of Premier Kites, it now adorns my lawn. Composed of three wheels of increasing diameter on an axle, each with a black rim and nylon cloth spokes in a prism of colors. The wheels hang out from a central pole, whose "keel"--a triangle of fabric-- catches the wind and causes the supporting shaft to turn inside the stake in the grass 360 degrees. If you stare through the three wheels while they're turning fast, the whole thing looks bronze. When it slows you see all the colors again. I tried to put a link in here to a picture of the gadget but their site only allows retailers to access it. The silly little lawn ornament, for a mere $32.00, has given me moments of joy.

Now for Bud, who settles for happiness:

***********************************************************************

Stick-figures from the holocaust with pipecleaner limbs, eyes bulging, bones tenting skin, were being shoveled into a mass grave. SS details scooped the corpses in like refuse. The photo chilled him.

"What do you see, Bud?"

He took a deep breath and tried to believe in his own words. "I see the corpses of those who endured torture now relieved by blessed death."

"Excellent, excellent, you're catching on fast. It's not that difficult, is it? These poor people had no chance of recovery and death was their only release. Even the Germans seem tired of the spectacle in this photograph, as if they wished they didn't have all this work their fanaticism created. And remember, without the Holocaust, the Nation of Israel might never have been recognized by the major powers. So their deaths were not in vain."

The next picture was of a bird with a broken wing. "I see a bird who needs to learn how to get along on the earth," offered Bud.

"Good. Learning to live with limitations. Overcoming the challenge of being grounded. Excellent! How about this photo?"

A classic mushroom cloud erupted from the Nevada desert, savaging the atmosphere with sheets of light.

"What do you see?"

"First of all, the demonstration of the benefits of nuclear power so many of our cities depend on. And then the successful deterrent which has kept the peace since the Second World war."

"You're coming along just fine. Now I want you to go to your own table and pick out some photos and write your interpretations on a piece of paper. I'll check on you in a while."

Bud was pleased with himself. He sat down and began rummaging through a variety of photographs. He found one of a man who'd been hanged, still dangling by the rope. "Nice that the law of gravity is so reliable," Bud wrote. Then a beached whale. "Best to eliminate those members of a species whose navigational abilities are suspect so that succeeding generations don't suffer their genes." A picture of clear-cutting in a virgin forest. "Not enough meadows in the forest to sustain a wider variety of life. Creating meadows through clear-cutting helps nature's diversity." A junkie shooting heroin. "Nice that a drug exists which can completely take away one's pain." A smoggy sky over Los Angeles. "Pollution is but a small price to pay for increased mobility and prosperity. Besides, the sunsets are lovely."

Presently Mrs. Claiborne came by to review his work. "Good, Bud, outstanding. How do you feel about these pictures?"

"Great," Bud replied. "They didn't get me down at all."

"Why should they get you down? They have no power over you; they're just pictures. Your interpretations find in them the inspiration you can find anywhere, no matter how challenging our circumstances, don't you agree?"

Bud nodded.

"It's so simple, isn't it? Life is neutral and our minds assign the meaning. Positive meanings are just as easy as negative meanings to cultivate, and besides, they make you feel better, right?"

"Right," said Bud. Mrs. Claiborne gave him a twinkly Mary Poppins smile.

As the days progressed to weeks Bud became a model student of The Institute for Positive Living. When afflicted by blisters after a day hike, he was eager to point out how his skin had attempted to protect his feet from further damage by erecting stress cushions. In group therapy he became adept at instructing newcomers in the preferred world view. His meals improved as well, since he had developed the courage to ask for what he wanted. And when combined with the personal fitness program administered by Larry, Bud found the dark cloud of depression had lifted so gradually he hardly noticed. He was not aware of any sad or anxious feelings, only feelings of expectation and awareness. He was eager to test his newfound skills in the outside world, eager to return to his wife and to work. After thirty days he was pronounced ready for discharge.

After good-byes to staff, he waited in the glistening white foyer with his faded blue gym bag and a faint smile on his face, feeling slightly wistful about leaving. But he was confident his new interpretation of life could sustain his positive feelings now through all circumstances, come hell or high water. And he couldn't wait to share this breakthrough with Martha.
He saw her arrive in her gray Corolla, trailing a cloud of red dust. It was a hot day and she looked weary as she trudged to the entrance. Having been already discharged, Bud bounded out the door, grabbed Martha, set her on the car hood and gave her a long kiss. When their lips parted Martha looked at him through teary eyes.

"Bud? Is that you? You haven't done that since we were dating!"

"I know! Isn't it wonderful? I can't wait to get home and start my life over again."

Martha eyed him skeptically. "Isn't there someone we should talk to about discharge?"

"No, it's all been taken care of. I got the papers right here. Why don't we jet? I'll drive."

"Are you sure? You know it's been a while."

"You never forget how to ride a bicycle," Bud said with confidence. Then he opened the passenger door for her, reminding her to buckle up. He dashed into the driver's seat, backed up, and took off up the dirt road. Martha sat in amazement and dabbed at her eyes with a Kleenex.

"So how was the drive out, honey?" Bud asked.

"Tiring and hot."

"So you had a chance to overcome fatigue and increase your natural tolerance for uncomfortable weather? How wonderful!"

Martha looked nonplussed. "Huh? If you want to put it that way," she said.

"What better way to put it? Do you have a better way to put it?"

"No, Bud, your way is just fine. It's just not how I felt."

"Felt? You felt the way you conceived it. Feelings are just the results of our mental interpretations. That's what I've learned at the IFPL."