Genesis 2:18

It is not good for

man alone; a helper made

thus completing him.

Review of "The Spare Room," by Helen Garner

My tastes in literature are not sophisticated.  When I was a teen, I read an awful lot of science fiction.  I never really did get into westerns, although I like Zane Grey.  But these days, most of what I read tends to be mysteries, or thrillers.  Of course I love Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, but they may be the exception that proves the rule, since whatever they are, they are rather mysterious.

So, "The Spare Room" is pretty much everything that I don't have the patience for.  It is modern literature, it is a standalone novel (not part of a series), it is about women, and relationships, and friendship, and all those things that I find pretty boring unless they're part of a romantic comedy.

And I am enjoying it.  I'm not sure that I would say *thoroughly* enjoying it, but I am continuing to read it, and I propose to read it through to the end.  Maybe I like it because I have experience with both nursing in institutions, and with caring at home, and with caring for the dying.  This isn't a huge commitment, since it's a relatively small book.  But I am enjoying it, and I suspect that I will pick up one of Helen Garner's other books, if I can find them, at some point.

Job 19:25-27

I know that my Defender lives.

    And in the end he will come to show that I am right.

Even after my skin has been destroyed,

    in my flesh I will still see God.

I will see him myself.

    I myself will see him with my own eyes.

    How my heart wants that to happen!

SYN/ACK: Let me know if I can ever help you out

Someone is thanking me for doing them a favour.

"Let me know if I can ever help you out."

(Which, in my rather demented mind, always prompts the response, "Which way did you come in?")

This has become one of my least favourite phrases.  It's not that I'm not grateful for their offer of help.  It's that I wonder if this actually *is* an offer of help.

For one thing, the phrase is tied, in my mind right now, to the expressions of sympathy or condolences on Gloria's death.  So many people have made a similar statement, such as saying, "Let me know if there's anything I can do for you."  I think I may have mentioned this before.  In terms of grief and bereavement this statement leaves all of the effort and all of the decisions on me.  (And, do recall, I am the damaged one, here.)  I have to figure out what I need.  I have to figure out if my needs are actually needs, or just desires or wants.  I have to figure out if my need is important enough.

I also have to figure out what the person who made the offer is capable of doing.  Is this person capable of addressing my needs?  (If, as mentioned, they are actually needs.)  Is this person able to address my needs?  Is this person *willing* to address my needs?  Would this person find addressing my needs difficult: perhaps too difficult for them to accomplish?

(It's not just friends and aquaintances that make this offer.  During my current battle with depression, I have to check in, every week, with the mental health office.  Several times the counsellors have asked the same question: "What do you want us to do for you?"  Well, what do you have in mind?  What programs *does* this office offer?  What is its mandate, and what is it *not* supposed to do?  How do I know, in the current labrythine maze of the health system?)

Now, I assume that for the most part, this person is sincere.  They would like to do something for me.  But are they capable?  Can they handle it?  I've certainly had ample evidence in the, now, two years plus since Gloria died, that a lot of people just simply cannot address needs.  Most people are simply incapable of listening without offering cliches or unwanted advice.  Many people simply cannot offer comfort.  It is beyond them.  It's interesting how very few people can offer comfort in our society.  It makes you wonder about the caring professions.  I have always held nurses in very high esteem, and my recent experiences have only increased this.

So, in terms of grief and bereavement, saying, let me know anything I can do for you is kind of a non-starter.

I have to figure out what I need.  I have to figure out what you can do.  And, of course, I have to be the one to make the approach, make the decision, and ask for help.  I am the damaged person in this situation.

But my issues with this offer go beyond grief and bereavement.  "Let me know if there's ever anything I can do for you."  It's a rather expansive statement.  It is, in fact, a rather over the top statement.  If there is *ever* anything I can do for you?  Ever.  This is an unending obligation.  I can call upon this at any time.  The person making the offer probably didn't mean that.  And *anything* they can do for me?  Sure.  If I'm suddenly faced with a need for a million dollars?  I'd like to buy this property.  I really like its view.  Have you got a million bucks?  So that I can buy it.  I may be able to pay you back.  Oh, in any case, I could leave it to you in my will.  Yeah.  How many people have a million bucks lying around that could be used for that kind of transaction.

Again, the "let me know" part still puts the onus on me.  I have to decide.  How much was my help worth? 

Which raises the questions: was this a transaction?

If this is a transaction, how much is it worth?  I didn't think it was a transaction.  *I* thought I was just helping out.  I could do it.  And so, when asked, I did.  Does that set up an obligation?  How much of an obligation?  If I need something, how much is that worth to the person who's offered to help?  At any time, ever after, with anything.  Anything at all.  (Unto the half of my kingdom.)

I mean it's a ridiculously extravagant offer.  And because ridiculously extravagant, I wonder if it's an offer at all.  Is this just one of our standard completely meaningless phrases in our society?

Another one is, "how are you?"

People don't really care how I am.  I know this.  I have ample proof of this.  My life is terrible right now.  And so, when people ask how I am, I say terrible.

The reactions that I get to this are interesting.  Some people will just automatically say, "Oh, that's good."  They don't even hear what I say.  They don't even listen when I respond.  (Actually, I had an interesting variation on this, recently.  Somebody actually did listen.  But then replied, "Oh.  Well it's okay that you're good."  I kind of wondered what the logic was behind that thought process.)

This is because "how are you" is not a question.  Nobody is concerned about how I am.

I refer to this as SYN/ACK. 

In data communications this is the indication of the request for establishment of a connection.  You send a SYN or "synchronisation" packet.  The synchronisation packet simply means I wish to establish a channel of communications.  The responding device will send back an ACK, which simply means I acknowledge that you have requested to open a communications channel.  This doesn't mean that any actual communication has gone on.  It is the lowest level Of communication.  It only means I request that communications be established, and a response acknowledging that you have requested to communicate.  No communication has actually taken place.  No data has been transmitted.  This is only an opening salvo in protocols that may negotiate a great many other issues before communications can take place. So, SYN/ACK is this basic "I acknowledge that you exist," which is a pretty minimal issue of communication.

And, in our society, "how are you" is basically this SYN/ACK.

The fact that nobody cares how I am is amply established by the second most common response that I get from people, which is, "You can't say that!"  "You shouldn't say that!"  "That's a terrible thing to say!"

You ask how I am.  I have told you, truthfully, how I am.  And you are denying what I have told you.  Do you have any *reason* to deny what I've told you?

But, I have violated the protocol.  Because the protocol is not to provide information about how I am.  The protocol is simply "I acknowledge that you exist."  And I have gone beyond that.  So, "how are you" is not a question.

It is just SYN/ACK.

So, we have a violation of protocol.  And, yes, I can confirm that I have violated the protocol, because of the third most common response that I get.

And that is that people are upset.

Now people can be upset and say, "no you're not" or "you shouldn't say that."  But, equally, people can say, "Why are you terrible?"  They expect me to perhaps give some simplistic response, that I have some minor, short term, issue which can be easily fixed.  The fact that my life is terrible, that I am bereft, that I am in the throes of depression in addition to the grief, doesn't fit with the simple, short term expectation.  They don't want to know how I am.  If I am to say anything negative, it is to be something simple.  My car won't start.  I have a cold.  And, if I have a cold, hopefully I'm getting over it.

"How am I" is not asking how I actually am.  It is asked, or, more likely stated, in the expectation that I am basically fine.  That I have no unmet needs.  That I have no problems. It is SYN/ACK.

So is "Let me know if I can ever help you out" just SYN/ACK?  Is this yet another automatic acknowledgement, "you have done something for me?"

There is no feeling of obligation.  There is no reality of the offer to help me with anything.

There is, in fact, no meaning behind the offer other than acknowledgement that I have, in fact, done something for them.  The fact that I have done something for them doesn't necessarily awaken any sense of actual obligation to do anything, anything at all, ever, for me.  So "Let me know if there is ever anything I can do for you"  It's just a SYN/ACK.  Basically, it's just a lie.

She is a shift manager at an outfit that I frequent frequently.  She seems to be consistently cheerful, always polite.  She makes sure that her staff are dealing properly with their tasks, and generally manages a very busy situation effectively and efficiently.  Whenever I am there, if she sees me, she greets me by name.  She asks how I am.  Today, I mentioned to her that I would be working for in a few days, since one of the volunteer groups will be participating with this particular enterprise in a community event.  She didn't turn a hair.  She didn't respond to what I said.  I don't think she actually even heard it.

I tend to refer to this as American retail clerk friendliness.  Americans are generally considered to be the best in the world at retail service.  Others may try to deal with retail in some interesting ways.  But the Americans, will do pretty much anything for a buck, and seem to specialise in friendly service, or service with a smile.  The French seem to take pride In providing the absolute worst service of anyone on the planet.  The South Asian diaspora also seems to be willing to do anything for a buck.  For one thing, they will agree with anything you say.  Even if it's not true, even if they can't fulfil what you have asked for, they will agree.  They also take absolutely any opportunity for retail opportunities.  I can remember a huge international community festival in Edmonton.  All of the various national and ethnic groups (and, of course, in any Canadian city, there are many) were represented.  The British sold fish and chips, the Scots were putting on highland country dancing.  The Armenians had a booth saying that the Turks were genocidal maniacs, and the Turks (next door) had a booth saying what liars the Armenians were.  The South Asian community had a very large booth.  They were selling second-hand clothes.  That was it.  (I suppose, in many senses, it was a very realistic representation of their culture. )

But the Americans are big on retail friendliness.  The Americans make a specialty out of presenting themselves as your friends.

And, of course, they don't care whether you live or die, as long as you die *after* the sale is made.  They are just as willing as the South Asians to lie to you, if that will make the sale.  (Although they do have a greater tendency to argue the point that what you have asked for is not what you actually wanted, and that what you actually wanted is what they are selling).

The point being that, although it's a little bit more extensive than a simple SYN/ACK, American clerk friendliness is just as much of a lie.  There isn't any depth to it.  American clerk friendliness has a tremendous depth of superficiality.

And, of course, I *have* let you know what you can do to help me out.  I have let a lot of people know what they can do to help.  I am a grieving widower.  I am lonely.  Does anyone ever call?  Of course not.  I am a grieving widower, and I would like to tell someone about Gloria, about what I have lost.  Will anyone listen?  Of course not.  Of course, part of this is our societal disinclination to listen to anyone anyway, but you would think that people could at least be willing to listen to me talk about Gloria.  But no.  That is too much to ask.

Then there are the people who ask me for specifics of what I need.  They of course, do not actually deliver.  One person has promised, at least twice, going back more than a year, to ensure that I have opportunities to teach.  This person is, in fact, in a position to deliver on that promise.  So far, it hasn't happened.  (I am no longer holding my breath.)

I was going to help with coffee at one church today.  I set my alarm to get up early so that I could be there early enough to help out, and even to learn how the process worked.  However, that church decided to cancel their service.  As I was walking out the door.  (The fact that I even got the announcement that they were canceling the service was a bit of an accident.  Normally I wouldn't ever have gotten that announcement until long after the fact.)

So, I was left with a choice of which church to go to this morning.  I had plenty of time to make that decision.  But it wasn't an easy decision.  I simply couldn't think of any church, in all of Port Alberni, where it would be worthwhile, or I would get any kind of benefit, out of going to that church.  I don't normally think of churches in terms of me getting a benefit out of it, I usually go where I am needed for something.  But, not being specifically needed anywhere, I couldn't think of any church to which I wanted to go.  I knew that I would be ignored at pretty much all of the churches, but I hadn't been to this church for a while, so I decided to go there.

Nobody at any of the churches in Port Alberni cares whether I live or die.  But there are two churches where, rather than just simply being ignored, I get repeatedly attacked when I show up.  That's one of them.  It's not actually the worst: the other Church is much crueler. But I would estimate that it's the second cruelest church in Port Alberni.

Somebody I know came and asked me how I was.  I said that Sundays are the worst. 

"Did you and your wife do special things on Sunday?" she asked.  (She can't, of course, remember my wife's name.)

No, not particularly. 

"Then why is Sunday the worst?"

Because it is more proof that absolutely nobody in any of the churches in Port Alberni cares whether I live or die.

"That's not true!" she said. 

I have objective evidence and proof, I said. She ignored this.

"I care!  You may feel that way, but that's just the way you feel!"

Okay, so now my feelings are invalid.  I am wrong to feel the way that I feel.  If if I feel this way, isn't there some responsibility on the part of the churches or the church members?  There are lots of things that upset Gloria which I never meant as an attack, or an accusation, or an insult.  There were lots of times that I upset Gloria without meaning to.  In that case, I figured that it was my responsibility to figure out why Gloria was upset and why what I had said (very often actually meaning it as a compliment) had upset her.  I can recall one time making a comment about staff at a company who all had university degrees.  I meant it to note that a lot of people who had degrees were, in fact, pretty stupid.  Gloria, unfortunately, was very embarrassed by her lack of formal education, and automatically took it as a swipe at her for not having a formal education.  I had to figure this out, ask her why I had upset her, explain myself, and also be much more careful in future about saying anything to do with formal education.

But let's leave that for a moment.  Let us say that I am, in fact, overly sensitive and misreading absolutely everyone's intentions even when their intention is to ignore me. 

She went on to say, "Sometimes you need to reach out! Sometimes you need to tell people what you need!"

Well, I have.  That's part of my objective evidence and proof.  I have been to all twenty-one churches in Port Alberni.  In every single church in Port Alberni, there is at least one person who has my full contact information.  In every single church in Port Alberni, there is at least one person who knows my situation and (at least to a limited extent) my difficulties.  Nobody contacts me.  Nobody calls me.  No one invites me to meals or coffee, at least not unless, as in one of the foregoing postings, I do all the work; I figure out the schedules; I figure out the time and the place and convenience of the other person; and I make all the arrangements.  If I do all that work (and, remember, I am the damaged one here, I am the one who is in pain and suffering here, at any rate) then we might have coffee.  Once.  No one thereafter contacts me.  No one phones me.  No one sends me an email.  No one asks how I am.  (Sorry, that's not true.  When I meet people they ask how I am.  When I, truthfully, say terrible, well, I have already described the reactions: number one reaction oh good.  Number two reaction no you're not.  Number three reaction oh that's too bad and then they tell me all about their problems.)  So, yes, I have said what I need.  I have reached out for help.  And nobody is helping.  I would say that that's pretty good evidence that nobody cares whether I live or die.

She continued to argue the point, getting shriller, and berating me for feeling bad in church on Sunday.  So I left.  I went to a different church.  As I came in the door, the usher at the door, whom I know, whom I have attended Bible studies and prayer meetings with, and pray for every single day (because he had asked for prayer), made a stab at my name, and got it wrong.  I pray for this guy every single day.  I pray for all twenty-one churches every single day.  I pray for a whole bunch of people in all of those churches every single day.  I thought I was over inflating it in my mind in terms of the number of people that I pray for every day, and so at one point I wrote it all down, and added it all up.  There are over 210 names on that list.  That's an average of at least ten people per church that I pray for.  And, apparently, some of the people that I'm praying for, because I know that they have a difficult situation, who have asked me to pray about their situation, can't remember my name.  Okay I'm not the greatest person in the world to remembering names anyway.  But it just seemed rather odd.  And yet more evidence that no, nobody cares whether I live or die.

There are a number of people who, when I say that, I would like someone to listen to my tale of woe and my stories about Gloria, aver that they are excellent listeners.  They aren't, of course.  Most of the time I have no sooner started talking than something that I say will trigger a memory or a story or a cliche.  And they will then take over the conversation and tell me all of *their* troubles. 

I volunteer with a number of organizations.  I help with other groups.  I have attended, and actively participated in, all twenty-one churches in Port Alberni.  In all twenty-one churches in Port Alberni, at least one person has my contact information, in detail.  In all twenty-one churches in Port Alberni, at least one person knows what I am going through.  Does anyone ever call?  Does anyone ever, seriously, suggest that we go for coffee?  Oh yeah, a couple of people have suggested that we go for coffee. If *I* make the arrangements, *I* pursue when is a suitable time, *I* generate the contact, *I* arrange to figure out the two schedules, and find a time, and a place, to have coffee, then we'll have coffee.  Once.  If I don't put in all that work and effort, then, no.  No coffee.

I have, at times, said that nobody in Port Alberni cares whether I live or die.  I have determined that that is quite literally true.  I have been sick, very sick, for about two weeks now.  Nobody has even noticed.  Nobody in Port Alberni cares whether I live or die.

Now, of course, there is absolutely no reason why anybody in Port Alberni *should* care whether I live or die.  But, at least you could stop lying about it.  "*I* care whether you live or die!" say some.  Oh yeah?  How come you don't know when I'm sick?  How come you don't notice when I'm not around anymore?  How come you don't contact me if I'm not around?  How come you don't find out why I'm not around?  You don't care whether I live or die: well that's okay.  But don't lie about it.

(I used to have a sig quote in my database of siq quotes for my sigblock.  (I need to find something that'll pull from my database: these days I just have a fixed sigblock.)  It read, "Okay, you've read my sigblock.  That's enough social interaction for one day."  These days, as the only pedestrian in town, people who know me, when driving past on the street, often honk.  It seems to be, around Port Alberni, that, "Okay, I've honked at you from a relatively safe distance.  That's enough social interaction for one day.")

(There is, of course, absolutely no obligation for you to consider any of this a cry for help.)

Grief topics: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2025/06/grief-table-of-contents-and-resources.html

Exodus 15:11

Who, among the gods

is like unto thee, oh Lord,

creating marvels!

Eagles, crows, and size of world view

Before I get into this, I have to mention that Gloria liked crows.  She considered them the Bikers of the avian world.  They were big, and ugly, and they didn't care.  Gloria always had a bit of a thing for the "bad boy."  (Which sometimes makes me wonder why she married me ...)

Today I saw, on Instagram, a posting, about crows versus eagles.  Well, it wasn't really about "versus," as such: it was about how eagles basically ignore crows.  Crows attack eagles.  Not exactly *attack*, either.  They will peck at the eagle's neck, and sometimes they'll even grab onto the back of the eagle, while they're pecking on the neck.  The eagle, basically, ignores this.  (Again, I'm not quite sure about that, because I've seen crows dive bombing eagles, and the eagles don't seem to appreciate it very much, and try and get out of the way. But that's as may be.)  At any rate, this video goes on to say that the eagle doesn't do anything in particular about getting rid of the crow: it'll just keep on flying higher and higher.  And, as the eagle flies higher and higher, it gets to a level where the crow runs short on oxygen, and basically has to let go and fall off.

(Again, I rather question this.  I don't know that eagles would get much higher than about ten thousand feet.  And ten thousand feet isn't really enough for oxygen deprivation.  Yes, it's high enough that if you are exerting yourself, you will find work difficult.  But if you are simply hanging on to something, it shouldn't be a problem.  Birds, probably eagles or condors in the Himalayas, do get up to the twenty-five thousand, and even thirty thousand, foot range, in specialised cases.  But that isn't the bald eagle and crow situation that the author of the video is talking about.)

At any rate, it's not the problems with the video that the video got me thinking about, but rather Gloria.

Gloria used to get very annoyed, on my behalf, at people who would attack me in various ways.  Sometimes it was people who would steal my work.  Sometimes with people who would interfere with my projects because they wanted to take them over.  And Gloria would say, "Doesn't that make you angry?"

My first response to this was generally along the lines of, "What good would that do?"  If I get angry at these people, are they going to stop?  No, of course not.  They probably don't even think they're doing anything wrong.  the Kruger-Dunning effect takes over, in this situation, and they think that they are more competent than I, even though they are not competent enough to be able to judge my competence.  They think they are better, and smarter, and more qualified than I am.  Oh, well.  Does my getting mad help to change their mind?  Of course not.  If I get mad, it simply confirms, in their minds, the fact that I don't have the patience and tolerance necessary for a project of this calibre.

So, it's not going to change them.  Does it do me any good to get mad?  No, it just means that I'm angry.  That may be somewhat energising, but it has a number of downsides.

Gloria would sometimes push at this reaction.  Wasn't it unjust that mean people were working against me, were attacking me, were stealing my thoughts, projects, or opportunities?  Yes, it's unjust.  What can I do about it?  There isn't anything that is going to change the situation for the better, for me.  So, why fight it?

But when Gloria was really annoyed at someone attacking me, I would go to my main argument, which was that these people are desperate to take over, or were desperate to steal something of mine and make it theirs, or were desperate to be more important than they actually were.  They were fighting hard against me because whatever they were fighting for was the biggest thing in their lives.  Whether it was status, or a particular position, or being tied to a particular idea or project, it was huge to them.

It wasn't necessarily to me.

The thing is, I had a larger world, and a larger world view, than they did.  Sometimes even though they were more important, or richer, or had more social status than I had to begin with.  That didn't matter.  I had the larger view.  I have participated on a larger stage.  I had more perspective on what was important and what wasn't.

They were crows.  I was the eagle. 

My world was bigger than their world.

They needed to fight terribly hard to try and steal or take over what I had started or had created.  It was vitally important to them, because they had little or nothing else.

The thing is, it didn't matter as much to *me.*  Even though I had created it, and may have loved it on that basis.  Yes, I had put some work into it.  But if they stole that idea, well, yes they had stolen some of my time.  But that wasn't all that I had.  I had other projects.  I had other ideas.  I *always* had other ideas and projects.  I always had other possibilities.  And in a sense, I was sorry for these people.  Because they *didn't* have other possibilities.  They couldn't generate ideas.  They couldn't create something of their own.  They had to steal what I had started, because they couldn't do it themselves.

At the moment I've got at least half a dozen writing projects and ideas that I could be working on.  If someone decided to somehow steal *this* particular idea, and pass it off as theirs, well, okay, that's annoying.  I have lost a few hours that I spent working on it.  But it's not the end of the world.  I can just go to the next idea on the list and pick up there.

It's not that it doesn't matter at all, to me.  It does.  I don't like people wasting my time.  I don't like being disregarded or disrespected or having my work ignored.  And, generally speaking, when somebody else steals my work they do a bad job of it, and the idea gets trashed because they didn't do a good job of developing it.  But it's not the end of the world, for me.  I have other options to try.  I have other projects to work on.  I have other ideas to develop.

My world is larger.  I am the eagle.

The crows are annoying.  Yes, sometimes I wish they weren't around.  And, very often, I wish that they wouldn't have ruined a good idea that they took over and trashed.  But what good does it do me to get mad about it?  It doesn't help the world.  It doesn't help me.  It doesn't help anybody.  Much better to just go on to the next idea.

And hope that nobody notices until I get it started ...

James 4:9

Grieve, mourn, and weep.  Turn your laughter into mourning and your joy into despair.