my eloquent friends


Facebook is a goofy thing, sometimes.

Lots of horn tooting and self-absorption.

Of course, I’d be over in the corner, singing “I’m a Little Teapot” at the top of my lungs and calling the kettle black…. when it comes to self-absorption, I’m the king. I have no room to talk when it comes to pointing a self-absorbed finger at anybody.

I write this blog every morning, sitting in a dark room with no one else awake around me.

Sometimes the only subject in the vicinity that holds my interest is “me”…so I write out 500 words, and probably 453 of those words are pretty self-absorbed.

So, again, I really don’t have any room to talk about how weird Facebook can be sometimes.

Yesterday was Father’s Day and I saw something else at work.

My father is gone now.

Many of my friends who use Facebook have lost their fathers, too.

Many of my friends still have their fathers here with them.

I loved reading the tributes that people wrote for their fathers….both here….and away.

I loved the heart-felt eloquence.

That was some really beautiful stuff.

No matter what we believe politically….spiritually….any of the other topics that come up on Facebook, or anywhere else, for that matter that divide or confuse us…it meant a lot to me to see how much my friends love their fathers.

There are so many weird little details that derail us….who’s running or what they said….how someone else didn’t pull their weight or line up the events just right…how they didn’t support us in our beliefs….that sometimes we get distracted and forget what really matters to us.

Maybe we need the distraction?

Some of the “real stuff” might touch us a little too deeply.

Who needs to feel that raw all the time?

Maybe it’s better to just stay distracted.

There is so much that I don’t understand.

There’s so much that I try and figure out….pondering events and reactions like it might tell me something.

I do a lot more pondering than I do arriving at a conclusion.

I’m better at pondering than I am at figuring out answers.

We’re the children of our fathers and will spend a lifetime in that role.

That’s inescapable.

That’s our mode.

We’re the children… matter how old or mature we get, that’s the position we’ll always be in.

Reading all the Father’s Day tributes helps me know that some of these friends really have a handle on the only thing that we can ever really understand about what our father’s gave to us.

We were loved.

I hope that in all cases, we were loved.

We were taught love…and maybe, if we don’t stay too distracted, we can pass that along to the people in our lives who we care about.

All my eloquent friends!

What an expected and happy surprise to see all that eloquence on display!

I’m glad that we love our fathers.

That makes me feel good.



Picture: Zoe Rorvig


About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

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