Fiction/Humor Love Memoir

The Popeye In Me

The Popeye in Me

Why the hell did Popeye ever become so famous? Why did the depression era audiences of the comic strips of King Features become so drawn to a one-eyed sailor during the interregnum of two world wars? I have a far easier time grasping the appeal of Bettle Bailey or Blondie, the other King Features favorites, than I do Popeye. He seems, with his Steamboat Willy-like ensemble of Brutus, Wimpy and Olive Oil, to be far more a collection of very bespoke personal memories of the author, E.C. Segar, than representative of some common American psyche that existed in that era. But what do I know about the ‘30s? I wasn’t there, man (oh, excuse me for stealing that from all the Vietnam Vets). The biggest thing about Popeye that I can relate to (besides his spinach eating … since my grandfather swore by the nasty stuff so laced with oxalic acid), is that he had enough self awareness to declare that “I yam what I yam!” At some point we all have to cop to being who and what we are and just go with it.

Well, I yam what I yam too. Yesterday we gave our second neighborhood party since we moved here 5 years ago. We had 65 people from 25 homes come by for a potluck party that went from 3-6pm on the hottest day of the year so far. We had spent weeks planning and cajoling invitees, several days setting up, five hours of intensive party working (including yours truly running the grill) and several hours of clean-up (though very nicely assisted cleanup by many of our great neighbors). Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves despite the sweltering heat, and many profusely thanked us for being such neighborhood organizers and community builders. When I drove over to one of the more distant neighbor attendees to return a rattle for their adorable little girl baby, they even went so far as to declare me by unanimous consent to be the mayor of our hilltop. In fact, our gang of six sponsors for this shindig (Mike & Melisa, Faraj & Yasuko, Kim & me) would likely agree that I was the instigator and hard pusher for the affair…not to say that they each didn’t shoulder a lot of the burden (especially my fair Kim). So, you and others might wonder, why do I do it? I always see cartoons in the New Yorker about people who say they have nothing to do and nowhere to go and lead lives of boring desperation. Well, I don’t.

That’s when the Popeye in me comes out….”yuk, yuk, yuk, yuk, yuk!” I just yam what I yam. Kim and I have talked about this topic for many years. The thing that we share most in our respective middle class American upbringing is that we each were the youngest of three kids to older parents and we were both chubby kids who wanted to be loved or at least liked by others. The first thing is that as the youngest, we had to amuse ourselves more and our parents were either over it or just too damn busy to fill our days with play dates. That psychological foundation also simply happens that much more with chubby kids who aren’t Mr. or Ms. Popularity. They seek approval. They are never quite sure they are worthy. I refuse to say either of us suffers from an inferiority complex, but we each in our own way have felt the need to sing and dance to the crowd to make them smile and like us. People who didn’t experience some form of this deprivation never understand it, but it is a very powerful driver in Kim’s and my life. It’s what drove Kim to be a performer, beloved by all for her sweetness, and it’s what drove me to be a successful and generous manager, who cared more about his people than most. Those are the deepest currents that run through each of our respective lives and, I suspect, has drawn us to be such committed partners to one another. It’s not at all a small thing, it is our defining thing. And I, for one, feel it is my greatest strength.

It served me well in a lifetime of business and it serves me even better in my personal life in making up for whatever deficiencies and faults I possess (and there are many, I assure you). I very much want to feel when I die, that I worked hard to make everyone in my life, especially those closest to me, appreciate my enthusiasm first for making them want to feel special and then also a part of something important to each of us and collectively by us. That is, first and foremost, family, then extended family, then friends and family and finally, community. And there is nothing I like more than seeing all those worlds collide in a good way with one another. Some people prefer to keep their worlds separate. I prefer to integrate them, weave them together where I can, and make the whole thing a quilt or tapestry that makes my life and theirs richer for it.

We all have to deal with the multiple crowds that inhabit our lives. The simplest dimension is the spectrum ranging from family to friends, then from family & friends to work, and perhaps even among friends groups like those from the neighborhood or those from college or those from the old growing-up hood. Friend and family integration dynamics is what makes wedding party planning such a dicey chore for some. Who can you sit with whom and who is sensitive about what table they get positioned at. Sometimes no one has a care in the world about it all and sometimes everyone gets pissed off at the slightest suggestion of preferential treatment or the lack thereof. I have generally found that if you take an attitude that all will be well and that everyone will find pleasure in knowing one another, you are more likely to have that outcome occur than if you fret and worry yourself sick about it all. My kids all like their extend relative family in all the layers that it can take. We go out to the cousin level very easily (even once or twice removed). Kim and I have made a point for 18 years of being together to gradually combine families from both sides. It started with overlapping vacation weeks at rented villas and eventually found itself to a place where we just toss together whoever is available and wants to play. We’ve even occasionally extended this to in-laws squared (the relatives of in-laws) and on an occasional basis, even that works out OK.

This next week, Kim and I are joining my three kids and their nuclear families in Virginia Beach for a few days of boardwalk and skeeball. This is a very important trip for my kids with just the inner nuclear family. I’m very much looking forward to it, but I don’t seem to “need” that small group focus the way my kids do. I guess its like the child who needs some personal Dad or Mom time even away from the siblings. But strangely enough, we come back here on July 1 and I pick up my daughter and her family at the airport two days later for their July visit with us here on the hilltop and then we gather for what has become an extended family and friends group on July 4th for a repeat of our BBQ yesterday. For this one we have nuclear family, extended family, in-law family, sort-of-family from out of town that are passing through and some neighborhood friends. Our life is like the nation that raised us, we are a melting pot of diversity among family and friends. All I can do is shrug and say, “Yuk, yuk, yuk, yuk…I yam what I yam!”