You know, most days I sit around being angry. I’m in the car, I’m doing dishes, I’m waiting at the dentist (25 minutes after my scheduled appointment time.) and the thing is I’m not really conscious of it. It’s just there. It might present itself in my clenched jaw or that weird stabbing that runs right through my chest and out my back (I’ve been meaning to get that checked out, btw.)
So, I’ve been trying to analyze this. It’s like I’m mad about the ‘what might have beens’, or I’m mad that I’m such a wuss about taking chances. Mostly I’m just mad.
Where’s that whole quality of life thing fit in, anyway?
So, when I picked up this book I wasn’t really sure what I was going to get. I honestly thought it might be one of those self help books, sort of in the vein of Fast Food Nation--something that would try to get me to change my wicked, wicked ways. That’s a pretty cynical outlook---I think I need more help than I originally thought.
Anyway.
I loved this book. I loved every single character in this book. From Anhil, the existentialist donut man, to the overworked ex-wife (she who shall not be named, I guess), to misguided, sweet Ben, to the misunderstood, sweet Nic, to Cynthia---who I can so relate to---but most of all, I love Richard.
Richard is that guy. That person that you sort of hope to be. He’s far, far from perfect, basically a fuckup. After a somewhat traumatic event, he, like most people -- I assume, starts to analyze his life and through a series of incredible events, you start to see his goodness. That thing that people think that they might be capable of, but either because they’re not presented with the situations or because they’re conscious of being ‘good’ then, well, it’s less real, right?
Yeah, I don’t expect you to get it. I’m still sorting it out.
Okay, do you ever get that feeling? That sense of… oh, I can’t find the right words, I can only describe it as a warm fuzzy. It’s this sense of childish hope, that people ARE good---and not good like someone letting you cut in line at the grocery store because you have 2 items to their 20 or someone following the correct etiquette of ‘merging into traffic’, but have you experienced true goodness? I have. I know I have. I’ve remembered coming home and being so excited to retell the story of something that renewed my faith in mankind. I remember grinning, not just smiling or smirking but full on ear-to-ear, pearly whites, make your face hurt, grinning.
Of course I can’t even give you one example of that kind of warm fuzzy.
Isn’t that telling? Hmmm…
So, Richard embarks on this crazy, sometimes too surreal to be true, but maybe it can be, sort of journey. And he becomes The Good Samaritan, The Good Neighbor, The Anonymous Benefactor. He’s the kind of guy I would hope to be if money were never an issue.
Yet, through all this you see him struggle with himself. His fear of dying, of not being a better son, brother, husband, father. This is what makes me just want to be in his presence, like maybe I’d catch some of what he is. I’d be tempted to use the word ‘aura’ but it might just be the Californian influence within the book, This is what made me hate to see the book end.
Bittersweet? Does that work? Hell, I’m going to throw it out there.
There’s this great scene towards the end. Richard takes his 17 yr. old estranged son to DisneyLand. You can see that Ben is fighting something, trying to recapture some sense of his lost childhood. He’s fighting with his father, yelling at him while riding the teacups or waiting for Space Mountain and Richard is taking it, feeling like he deserves it. Ben’s trying to work out all these emotions, worried about an expiration date or something---afraid to see this day end. And there’s this scene:
They get in line for the driving ride. You must be at least three years old and so high to go on this ride.
“Aren’t we a little old?”
“How can we be too old? We never did it before,” Ben says.
I love this sentiment. It brings tears to my eyes and gives me that hope that someday that warm fuzzy will be more than a passing flicker. Or at least that I’ll be able to recall it next time.