So, is it just me?
'clichés'
By
Gavin Kennedy
ver 20110926a
*****
Smashwords Edition
Published by
(c) Copyright 2011 by Gavin Kennedy
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for all of you who just 'know'...
you're different from everyone else...
So, is it me?
…or do clichés linger for generations because they’re so damn true?
I was always fascinated by the token “Red-Indian” (now PC-sensitively re-named American Indians) in those cheesy westerns of the Shane and Lone Ranger genre…. you know, the thick-tongue-talking-me-be-obedient-and-wise-man stereotype. Our hero would be galloping along leaving billowing clouds of dust behind, and suddenly, the dutiful sidekick would rope his horse in, dive to the ground and get an ear-full of dirt as he listened carefully for clues as to how close their pursuers (or the pursued) were. I was mesmerized by this uncanny ability to draw huge conclusions from tiny clues. Similarly, watching a game ranger abruptly stop, sniff the air, touch the sand, prod some animal faeces and then stand up, confidently declaring the sought-after wildlife we were stalking to be a mere handful of kilometers that-a-way, while pointing north north east.
It took me years to understand that this wasn’t magic. OK, granted the western scenario was just a tad over-exaggerated sometimes, like when he’d elaborate on the age and colour of the horses the baddies were riding. But rather, for both our proverbial Tonto and intrepid explorer, it was the culmination of years of paying attention to the little things, listening to the subtle little-noticed innuendos, and trusting their instincts that made these seemingly impossible predictions all but mundane for them.
On the extreme opposite side of the “subtlety scale”, my mid-life crisis wasted absolutely no time or effort in announcing it’s imminent arrival. There was little to no tip-toeing en route. No, unlike a woman preening and preparing for hours for a black-tie dinner, slowly slowly getting everything “just-so”, my MLC came thundering over the hill like the arrival of the cavalry in pursuit of Geronimo himself, and it brought friends.
I guess, looking back (far enough) there were (as Paul Simon so succinctly put it) “hints and allegations” that this was on its way. I was months away from turning 40 (hell, that on it’s own is a big red flag), I was complacent at work, comfortable at home (well, between homes actually as we had decided to knock down our old house and build a new one in its place.) My circle of friends was mostly the male spouse of “our” friends and I was unfulfilled creatively. Add to the mix that my father had been diagnosed with cancer, I needed to go for a major operation in the next few months and (while I strongly suspected but didn’t yet know for sure at the time) my wife was having an affair or two.
Still, it came as a surprise to me that my life was feeling a little unsettled and chaotic and that I appeared to be heading for that clichéd 40-something stage of my life. What!? Me?! living a cliché!?!?! No way!!! After all, my life was perfect… one beautiful wife, three fantastic children, three dogs, two cats, a good solid business, annual overseas holidays, on the School Governing Body… man… this was Domestic Bliss. The white picket fence and station wagon dream. Perhaps complacency is the real sign we should watch for?
Well, as it transpired, I had to follow the example of our erstwhile cowboy’s companion, and haul in the reins and take control of the situation. I set a date for my operation and joined a gym (to build-up my abdominal muscles – an exercise I knew would speed-up my post-op recovery) and not as a way to radically overhaul myself and meet twenty-something lycra-clad “Barbies”. My first session at gym was memorable for two reasons… one, totally humiliating and the other only slightly embarrassing, both of which I’m sure I’ll come back to another day.
My reining-in was necessitated by the simultaneous arrival of another military unit thundering over another nearby hill, but descending into the same valley that was my life. My wife (and mother of our three children) had chosen the same time to have her MLC arrive unceremoniously in our lives… and someone had to be the adult. Sigh… being the good ol’ woe-is-me-under-appreciated-victim I can be sometimes (often, seldom, occasionally.. oh, whatever) I sucked it up and watched the life I had known for so many years change, irreversibly, forever.
It was a dark, lonely scary period of doubt, anger, love, jealousy, hatred, fear and worst of all… false hope. I learned how powerful the tiniest glimmer of hope is. Even the smallest microscopic, pseudo, fake, artificial hope that we just “know in our gut” won’t work out, has such overwhelming power. I learned that we must be ourselves, stand alone (not all the time… but at least be able to) and that we should want people in our lives and not need them. I learned that there are always signs, clues and messages, sometimes subtle, sometimes downright in-your-face, but they are always there.
If, like the tracker and game ranger above, we want to be more aware, to turn what looks like magic into part of our day-to-day reality, we need to listen… quietly, and trust our own instincts.
A little more about the author
Gavin’s background is diverse, which can be expected coming from an entrepreneurial family. He has always worked in family businesses or those he’s owned which have included fast food franchises, wholesaling truck tyres, video and audio post-production, running radio stations, television outside broadcasting and, more-recently... full-time parenting. This diverse set of skills and broad range of experiences enables him to assist passionate people with the fun, exciting (and for some, scary) start-up phase of small businesses.
After selling his business in 2008, Gavin took a sabbatical to spend lots of time with his three school-going children. He currently divides his time amongst several smaller business ventures, writing, photography and providing individual Life Coaching (specializing in thriving through divorce) and Small Business Mentoring.