Lessons from Laurelhurst

Western North Carolina.  Land of blue ridge mountains, home brew, confederate flags, and recently…my parents.  This past week, I traveled down south with my brother to spend a late Christmas on my parent’s organic farm.  They are keeping busy in their “retirement:” taking vermaculture classes, touring vineyards and horse farms, frequenting farmer’s markets, and actively promoting their daughter’s book.

Which is how I ended up at the monthly book club of the Laurelhurst senior home in Columbus, North Carolina.  This also happens to be where my Grammy lives.  My book trickled from me to my parents to Grammy and ended up in the hands of a dozen gray-haired ladies at Laurelhurst.

I have to admit, I was nervous to talk to them.  There I was, in the heart of Baptist country, gearing up to talk about a book that is partly a commentary about religion.  What if they grilled me about my personal beliefs?  Or worse, what if they remained stone-faced and silent?

By the time I reached the third floor of Laurelhurst, I was quaking.  I sat down, aware that a dozen pairs of eyes were trained on me, and pulled out my best defense mechanism: non-stop talking.

Talking and smiling.  That’s how I made it through my junior-year prom.  My buddy Nordica probably remembers.  I was nervous as hell and shielded myself with rapid-fire jokes and witty remarks (at least at the time I thought they were witty!).

At Laurelhurst, I began spewing stories about my background, my career in Portland, my impromptu trip to the Redwood Forest, the various inspirations for Elmer Left, etc.  And then I looked around.  Rows of eyes were matched with rows of teeth.  The ladies were enjoying themselves.  They were nodding and empathizing with my need to run away and start over.  They understood.  I began to settle down.

And I began to remember something else: Elmer Left is not just about questioning the rigidity of organized religion.  It is about so much more.  It is about relationships and learning and overcoming childhood hurts and feeling love in a profound and beautiful way.  It is also about living at your peak and not being afraid to change things in your life…even if you are seventy-eight years old.

They empathized.  They had felt the same stirrings and had encountered some of the same troubles in their lives.  The questions started pouring in.

For the next hour, I fielded a wide array of questions (everything from “what is the symbolism of City B?” to “where did you learn to write?” to “why so much bad language?”).  I was well-aware that parts of the book probably made some of the residents uncomfortable (I did, after all, toss in the f-bomb whenever I felt the need.  And yes, I did set Christianity and Islam on the same plane), but they were great hosts nonetheless.  They were inquisitive and genuine.  They asked tough questions and I answered them to the best of my ability.

At the end, we were laughing, joking, and having a nice conversation.  And I overcame a little bit of my fear of criticism.  I might not have the same set of values or beliefs as the Laurelhurst ladies, but we ended up finding common threads and enjoying each other’s company.  It is amazing what different generations can learn from each other when they listen.

In closing, here are two haikus that one of the book club members wrote about Elmer Left.  I  nearly cried when she gave them to me:

“Bravo”

Elmer left his bed

Searching for his rightful life.

Sang, “Goodbye Irene!”

“Questionable”

Do you think it’s Here?

Or would you consider There?

I’ve made up my mind!