Touch Down

In the 1958 film, "Cat On A Hot Tin Roof," Paul Newman's character Brick Pollitt, a miserable, self-loathing, and alcoholic aging football hero is mourning the death of his best friend Skipper who committed suicide. Brick's indifference to his beautiful young wife Maggie, played by Elizabeth Taylor, and to the whole idea of life and living is summed up rather beautifully in a poetic monologue at the beginning of the film. In this rant, Brick describes to his wife, that he drinks until he feels the "click," which releases him into the welcome oblivion of intoxication. This is his only means of escape. He hides within the "click."

I was thinking about the "click" recently when my lower back seemed to be all tangled up, tense, and perturbed. No amount of stretching, exercise, or baths would send my back into "click" mode. I was waiting for the the literal and figurative crack/click of the bones resetting, reconstituting - directing themselves to a peaceful detente. No dice. For years now, my back and neck have been the "detectors" and tell-tale shamans for how I am doing in life. The neck and back indicators were initially triggered by carrying heavy gear (camera and tripod) for years at my former job as a TV reporter, but now, the "truth-finding" duo becomes inflamed when I am searching for answers that take longer than they should. For the past two years, looking for a permanent job, looking for that "click," looking for that "fit," is touch-and-go. The "click" - to succeed, the "click" to answer when I am asked what I do, the "click" to sleep peacefully when day is done, I, like Brick, need the "click," although not derived from the same source, but I need the feeling that all is okay, will be okay. I need the "click" of peace. And I know it will come, and it's safely grazing there in the distance, but the manifold fog is obscuring its start-date. Patience is a virtue, but the "click" is a virtue too. "Virtue" is among many things, based on merit, aptitude, valor, and in the order of angels, and celestial hierarchy, I feel that I am on the short-list for the "click-dom", after a long, long time on the long-list.

It's been a long, nearly untenable flight of time; and I don't eat or sleep on planes, so now, I summon the "click," and as I sit here writing this, I can feel the bones in my back settle down, they're anticipating touch down.