Have you ever noticed there can be a lot of “nothing” lying around?
I mean, just take my first niece. She went to meet my soon-to-be-sister-in-law who [quite unfortunately] came with her own babies—two cats.
Named after two delicacies at Walker Brothers pancake house, they were Apple Pancake (may he rest in peace) and Dutch Baby.
So when my little niece came home from her own little ‘check-out’
visit, we asked her about the cats & then what they were called.
She spoke right out “Apple Pancake,” she said, and “Nothing.” We all chortled, clearly offending her, and when we asked, “you mean the cat is named nothing?, she nodded her head firmly and said ‘yes.’
Or remember that poor girl failing visualization in the “Chorus Line?” The one who had to try to pretend they were outside, presumably sledding, to “feel the motion/Down the hill”—and how she “felt nothing”?
And look at the money Seinfeld took in for writing & starring in “a show about nothing.”
And we most certainly cannot forget our friend Emily, on a little bit of a different path to nothingness, who could openly declare–without a hint to shyness—that she was a nobody, and invite anybody else in.
Well, a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, I had a (very small) talent at writing, and was even called upon by others to do their cards and thank you notes etc. —when they mattered.
And then that was gone, too.
But my perfectionism wasn’t. So I worked and worked and complained and agitated to others about a way to say thank you—for your patience, for your refusal to quit on me, for the days when I know I try your patience but you forge ahead, for the days when you compliment me on my haircut to the days you frustratedly [my own word?] realize I can hardly attend at all—and others, surely sick of me, suggested, “why don’t you say, ‘thanks for working with me,—and happy Channukah,” I continued to obsess as only I can do, for if that is the only way to say thank you, it hardly seems worth saying..
So. . .I DO wish you a Happy Channukah. . . and I thank you for and wish you only Nothing—
. . .and just ask that you use those psychoanalyst voodoo powers of yours to understand all that comes with Nothing—and I also ask that you don’t pull a King Lear on me, with his “Nothing will come of nothing: speak again,” for you see how far that got him.