Author Archives: Tin Man

Driving

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I have this recurring dream about driving.

I used to drive all the time, but for the most part I haven’t driven in years.

I learned to drive later than most people. In New Jersey, you get your learner’s permit at 16 and your driver’s license at 17. But we were living in Tokyo when I was that age, and in Tokyo, there was no need to learn to drive – I could take trains everywhere. So I didn’t learn to drive until the summer after my first year of college, when I was 18 and had been back in the U.S. for almost a year.

When I first learned to drive, I was kind of scared. I mean, a car is an enormous piece of machinery that goes very fast and can kill people. But I had a great instructor. The first time we drove on a highway I was nervous, but I’d had several lessons up to that point, and it wound up being fine. When it was finally time to take my driver’s test, I aced it. At the end of the summer, I got my first car – a used Honda Accord hatchback – and drove it the 420 miles back to Charlottesville for my second year of college.

That November, Bill Clinton won the presidential election. I was convinced I wouldn’t live to see him take office. The time between Election Day and Inauguration Day contained two holidays – Thanksgiving and Christmas – which meant driving round trip between New Jersey and Virginia not once but twice. Those four seven-hour trips contained plenty of chances for me to die in a car accident.

But I made it intact, with no accidents, and I lived to see Maya Angelou recite a poem and Bill Clinton take the oath.

I grew to love driving. I used to hop in the car and go on spontaneous road trips. One summer day in Charlottesville, a friend and I decided on the spur of the moment to drive to the Civil War cemetery in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Another time I decided to drive up to D.C.; another time, Appomattox Courthouse. (Virginia contained beautiful countryside.) One summer while living at my parents’ house in New Jersey, I decided to drive up to Harvard University and back, on the same day, just because I felt like it.

I fell in love with the idea of the Great American Road Trip. I read The Majic Bus and fell in love with it. I read Travels With Charley.

During my eight years at UVa, I drove between New Jersey and Charlottesville countless times. There were a few trips between Charlottesville and Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, as well.

After graduating from college, I decided to visit a friend of mine in Denver, for two weeks. I drove from New Jersey to Colorado by myself, and it took three and a half days: through New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska, the southeast corner of Wyoming, then down into Colorado. On the way back I visited a friend in Cincinnati, so I drove through Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, and some other states.

After law school (during which I had another, newer, Honda Accord) I moved back up north and lived in the suburbs for a year. Then I moved to Jersey City, at which point I no longer needed to drive, so I got rid of my car. I haven’t owned a car since 2000. The last time I drove extensively was on a 2004 business trip in San Diego. Since then, I’ve barely driven at all.

A year and a half ago I decided I wanted to keep my skills up, so one afternoon I drove my parents’ car around the New Jersey suburbs a bit. My driving skills came back pretty quickly; I was a little rusty and tentative, but I could do it. Last Thanksgiving, Matt and I took turns driving his dad’s car around a school parking lot. But that’s it.

A couple of years ago the dreams started. In the dream, I’m behind the wheel of a car, driving somewhere, and I feel so relieved and exhilarated. Relieved because I still know how to drive. Exhilarated because driving is power.

And it’s more. I told my therapist about these driving dreams, and she said, what do you think these dreams mean? And I said: Power. Freedom. Autonomy. She nodded: yup.

I miss driving. In New York City you have to rely on public transit to get anywhere. You go where it takes you. You don’t get to be in control. You have no privacy. You can’t just leave the city whenever you want. You can’t just go up to New England.

Many of the choices I make in life are based on fear and the desire to maximize safety. But I have this other side, the side that likes to take spontaneous road trips – the side that wants to hop in a car and just go somewhere. The side that wants to expand my comfort zone. These two sides of me are often in battle with each other.

So I keep having the dream.

Oprah and Sisterhood

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So, the other thing I was going to say about Oprah was:

Sometimes I romanticize things, but thinking about Oprah last week made me envy the idea of a “sisterhood.” It’s a total stereotype, but I’m thinking of small groups of female friends who live in the South or somewhere suburban where there’s mostly shopping centers and chain stores, and when each of them is alone they watch Oprah and wish they could make their own lives better, and when they get together as a group of friends, they all discuss Oprah.

I’m not sure why this idea appeals to me. Maybe it’s because I’m sentimental and don’t have many friends. And men aren’t traditionally supposed to be sentimental and have heart-to-heart talks with each other. Despite having come out of the closet more than a decade ago, I’m still sometimes ashamed of the parts of my personality and emotional makeup that are not traditionally seen as masculine.

I feel like Oprah’s show is meant for women and that men aren’t supposed to get anything out of it. But the ideas she talked about in her final episode apply equally to men and women: find your calling, take responsibility for getting there, and remember that you’re as worthy and as allowed to be happy as everyone else.

Thoughts on Oprah

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I only saw Oprah Winfrey’s show a handful of times over the years. But I watched her final show a couple of days ago, and I was strangely, surprisingly moved by it, to the extent that I keep thinking about her.

Some people like to make fun of Oprah for the emotionalism she’s brought to our culture; some people like to criticize her melding of consumerism and spirituality in a way that, for better and worse, is so incredibly American. My opinion is, you can take from Oprah what you need, as long as you continue to think for yourself. Ignore the silly things like new-age medical cures or The Secret; take the lessons about how to live life in a way that makes you happy, as long as you’re not harming other people or the environment.

Her final episode was essentially an hour-long monologue, or speech, or sermon, interrupted by commercial breaks. It was a summing-up of her show, of her message, of everything she’s tried to teach people over the years. Here’s the full text of what she said.

Parts of it really resonated with me – most of all, this:

What I knew for sure from this experience with you is that we are all called. Everybody has a calling, and your real job in life is to figure out what that is and get about the business of doing it. Every time we have seen a person on this stage who is a success in their life, they spoke of the job, and they spoke of the juice that they receive from doing what they knew they were meant to be doing.

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Because that is what a calling is. It lights you up and it lets you know that you are exactly where you’re supposed to be, doing exactly what you’re supposed to be doing. And that is what I want for all of you and hope that you will take from this show. To live from the heart of yourself. You have to make a living; I understand that. But you also have to know what sparks the light in you so that you, in your own way, can illuminate the world.

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Each one of you has your own platform. Do not let the trappings here fool you. Mine is a stage in a studio, yours is wherever you are with your own reach, however small or however large that reach is. Maybe it’s 20 people, maybe it’s 30 people, 40 people, your family, your friends, your neighbors, your classmates, your classroom, your co-workers. Wherever you are, that is your platform, your stage, your circle of influence. That is your talk show, and that is where your power lies. In every way, in every day, you are showing people exactly who you are. You’re letting your life speak for you. And when you do that, you will receive in direct proportion to how you give in whatever platform you have.

My great wish for all of you who have allowed me to honor my calling through this show is that you carry whatever you’re supposed to be doing, carry that forward and don’t waste any more time. Start embracing the life that is calling you and use your life to serve the world.

Also, this:

Nobody but you is responsible for your life. It doesn’t matter what your mama did; it doesn’t matter what your daddy didn’t do. You are responsible for your life. … You are responsible for the energy that you create for yourself, and you’re responsible for the energy that you bring to others.

And this:

The show has taught me there is a common thread that runs through all of our pain and all of our suffering, and that is unworthiness. Not feeling worthy enough to own the life you were created for. Even people who believe they deserve to be happy and have nice things often don’t feel worthy once they have them.

There is a difference, you know, between thinking you deserve to be happy and knowing you are worthy of happiness.

Oprah Winfrey is not the first person to say these things. But they’re important to remember and ponder.

I have some more thoughts on Oprah, but that’s for later.