An Open Letter to Mark Harmon and Pauley Perrette.

I get it. I was raised in a family of actors. You’re not the characters you so giftedly played; you’re real people with real lives and real issues, just like the rest of us.

But speaking as someone who has spent the last several months binging the entire run of NCIS¹, you (not unlike the casts of Criminal Minds, Fringe, Blue Bloods, and others)… to me, your characters became family.

And while I can’t speak for the rest of your fan base, what happened behind the scenes which ultimately led to earth-shaking changes in the cast, and the gulf between you which continues to this day, broke my heart.

When I think of the countless interactions between Gibbs and Abby – not the little affectionate pecks and compliments, but the big ones where your characters were displaying pain and vulnerability and true affection and mutual respect and growth – to see that relationship sullied by offscreen animosity and estrangement… Well, it’s downright sad, and the optics for the show which will continue to be available for generations yet unborn are bad. Really bad. Like, thermonuclear bad.

When I think of the years during which Gibbs and Abby supported each other and helped each other through the most difficult times and experiences not unlike a devoted father and daughter,² I cannot imagine their being unable to help each other through a rift like this. Or to accept this kind of separation without fighting tooth and nail for a reconciliation.

I don’t really care about what happened on set. Life is complicated, we’re all human and things happen. Accidents happen. People make mistakes. Words are exchanged. Egos get wounded. Feelings get hurt. It doesn’t really matter. I’m not judging, I’m pleading.

I exhort you to bury the hatchet. It’s been six years now. Sack up,  or as Margo from “The Magicians” might say, ovary up, put your injured pride behind you, and become the friends in real life that you so expertly portrayed for so many years onscreen. Generations of fans will thank you if you do.

– The Old Wolf has spoken.

Footnotes

¹ I have no good reason for why it took me so long to discover this amazing series. I have no excuse other than that life is really busy and there’s so much in the world. But I’m so glad I did. Almost every episode brought me to tears with the goodness and strong relationships demonstrated by the characters and the bonds that they forged and the growth that they demonstrated.

² Yes, yes, you were reading lines on a script written for you by others, but the way you did it made your characters become real, like that velveteen rabbit. You were loved to that level.

My Facebook Manifesto

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Two suggestions I’d make to Facebook would be the ability to make a post “sticky” (so that it always appears at the top of my timeline) and the ability to disable comments for any post. That would pretty much solve a lot of issues I find with this online corner of my world.

Until that happens, however, I craft this little “manifesto” in an effort to uncomplicated my life a bit.

There are only so many minutes in a day, and only so much energy – physical and emotional – that I have available for use in moving my life forward and making a difference in the world before my earthly sojourn is over. I enjoy sharing bits of my life and my thoughts and things that I think are important or just ways to brighten someone’s day on Facebook, but endless political/social debates are draining and serve no purpose.

My online presence is essentially an extension of my home. I wouldn’t let someone come into my house and decorate it, in the words of Huck Finn, with “the ignorantest kind of words and pictures made with charcoal.” And while I have nothing against honest and meaningful exchange of ideas, the Internet has changed the way people interact – and I don’t have time to read or deal with the conflicting opinions of thousands of people. It’s just too draining.

So it comes to this: My wall is not a place for debate, political or otherwise. I will post things I believe, things that are important to me, and things I want to see happen in the world. Or sometimes just something to make others smile. If I see a comment appear on one of my posts or a link on my wall that I don’t happen to agree with, I’ll simply delete it – without fanfare and without response. This doesn’t mean I don’t value you as a friend or as a person – it just means that I’m doing some virtual housecleaning. If you have differing opinions, you have your own page: feel free to use it as a place to express those things that are important to you. If I’m interested, I’ll come over and see what the opposition is thinking. That said, sometimes (rarely) I get caught out posting something that’s patently false because it seemed plausible and I didn’t do my research. I’m always grateful for vigilant friends pointing out my folly.

It works both ways. Your wall is like your home, and I’ll do my best to keep my mouth shut if I see things you post that are not in harmony with my beliefs. My one exception to this is if I see someone posting things that are hateful, hurtful, bigoted, or abusive – in such cases I would have no compunctions about speaking out.

To me, this approach makes more sense than blocking or unfriending people whose friendship I value, and from whom I doubtless have much to learn in many areas – and it will help me to preserve my sanity in these most “interesting” times.

The Old Wolf has spoken.

Vive la Différence

Anyone who has ever been in a relationship with a person of the opposite sex, or had the blessing of growing up with brothers or sisters, is painfully aware that men and women think differently. And since the first scribe put chisel to stone, people have been making jokes about it. It’s better than sitting in the middle of the floor weeping.

Calvin Cries

This meme has been around since December 17, 2016, first appearing in Spanish:

TENIENTE CHOCHos @chochos Ella: seguro está pensando en otra. El: ipor qué en Star Wars se oyen las explosiones si se supone que el sonido no se propaga en el vacío? Translate from Spanish

She: “I’m sure he’s thinking about someone else.”
He: “Why do we hear explosions in Star Wars if sound doesn’t travel in a vacuum?”

and later in many English versions:

thinking

There have been some masterful bits of humor on this topic created over the years, but I share with you two of my favorites. The first is from Dr. Mark Gungor, noted for “Laugh Your Way to a Better Marriage.” Watch this. Please. It’s funny.

The second is from one of the greatest humorists of all time, Dave Barry. This bit is extracted from “Dave Barry’s Guide to Guys,” which I first saw appear in the Deseret News on 10 May, 1995. It’s been shared in many formats across the net since that time, with either no attribution or incorrect ones, but it’s classic Barry all the way.

Let’s say a guy named Roger is attracted to a woman named Elaine. He asks her out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time. A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy themselves. They continue to see each other regularly, and after a while neither one of them is seeing anybody else.

And then, one evening when they’re driving home, a thought occurs to Elaine, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud: “Do you realize that, as of tonight, we’ve been seeing each other for exactly six months?”

And then there is silence in the car. To Elaine, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself: Geez, I wonder if it bothers him that I said that. Maybe he’s been feeling confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I’m trying to push him into some kind of obligation that he doesn’t want or isn’t sure of.

And Roger is thinking: Gosh. Six months.

And Elaine is thinking; But, hey, I’m not so sure I want this kind of relationship, either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I’d have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily toward . . . I mean, where are we going? Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we heading toward marriage? Toward children? Toward a lifetime together? Am I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really even know this person?

And Roger is thinking . . . so that means it was . . . let’s see . . . February when we started going out, which was right after I had the car at the dealer’s, which means . . . lemme check the odometer . . . Whoa! I am way overdue for an oil change here.

And Elaine is thinking: He’s upset. I can see it on his face. Maybe I’m reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from our relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed – even before I sensed it – that I was feeling some reservations. Yes, I bet that’s it. That’s why he’s so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings. He’s afraid of being rejected.

And Roger is thinking: And I’m gonna have them look at the transmission again. I don’t care what those morons say, it’s still not shifting right. And they better not try to blame it on the cold weather this time. What cold weather? It’s 87 degrees out, and this thing is shifting like a garbage truck, and I paid those incompetent thieving cretins 600 dollars.

And Elaine is thinking: He’s angry. And I don’t blame him. I’d be angry, too. I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can’t help the way I feel. I’m just not sure.

And Roger is thinking: They’ll probably say it’s only a 90-day warranty. That’s exactly what they’re gonna say, the scumballs.

And Elaine is thinking: Maybe I’m just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I’m sitting right next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care about me. A person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy.

And Roger is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I’ll give them a warranty. I’ll take their warranty and stick it . . .

“Roger,” Elaine says aloud.

“What?” says Roger, startled.

“Please don’t torture yourself like this,” she says, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. “Maybe I should never have . . . Oh, I feel so . . .” (She breaks down, sobbing.)

“What?” says Roger.

“I’m such a fool,” Elaine sobs. “I mean, I know there’s no knight. I really know that. It’s silly. There’s no knight, and there’s no horse.”

“There’s no horse?” says Roger.

“You think I’m a fool, don’t you?” Elaine says.

“No!” says Roger, glad to finally know the correct answer.

“It’s just that . . . It’s that I . . . I need some time,” Elaine say.

(There is a 15-second pause while Roger, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with one that he thinks might work.)

“Yes,” he says.

(Elaine, deeply moved, touches his hand.)

“Oh, Roger, do you really feel that way?” she says.

“What way?” says Roger.

“That way about time,” says Elaine.

“Oh,” says Roger. “Yes.”

(Elaine turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become very nervous about what she might say next, especially if it involves a horse. At last she speaks.)

“Thank you, Roger,” she says.

“Thank you,” says Roger.

Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Roger gets back to his place, he opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV and immediately becomes deeply involved in a rerun of a tennis match between two Czechoslovakians he never heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the car, but he is pretty sure there is no way he would ever understand what, and so he figures it’s better if he doesn’t think about it. (This is also Roger’s policy regarding world hunger.)

The next day Elaine will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours. In painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word, expression and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification. They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any definite conclusions, but never getting bored with it, either.

Meanwhile, Roger, while playing racquetball one day with a mutual friend of his and Elaine’s, will pause just before serving, frown, and say: “Norm, did Elaine ever own a horse?”

The uninitiated might ask, “If it’s so painful, why would you ever want to be in a relationship with someone who thinks so strangely? Well, for all the frustration that accrues to both sexes from dealing with their so-different significant others, it’s worth it. Every moment. I would be infinitely diminished without the companionship of my very strange wife, and we both know it.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go sit in my nothing box.

The Old Wolf has spoken.