Why do people get embarrassed? I don’t get embarrassed much if at all anymore. I think that’s probably not normal. Is it something that fades with age or does it demonstrate some hole in my character? Is it an achievement? I’m not sure.
On a fishing trip to northern Saskatchewan years ago, a friend from Nebraska half-jokingly told me that my utter lack of reverence for anyone was my only redeeming quality. It’s not that I hold most people in contempt. On the contrary, I respect most people and even if their lives or beliefs or choices upset me, I can talk with them or spend time with them and I would honestly like to see everyone happy, healthy, strong, and safe. I usually wonder how people got to where they are and what has brought them to this point. In other words, I have a hard time hating anyone or holding a grudge.
I had one of the most embarrassing moments of my life on that trip also. Our cabin was full of mice and I think that I would rather spoon with Hitler than be surrounded by mice skittering around me all night in the darkness as I’m trying to sleep, so I got up REALLY early the second morning of our trip and drove about 40 miles to the nearest town, Creighton, to buy a bunch of mouse traps. (I caught tons of mice every day and we ended up putting them on a boulder next to the cabin and watching the bald eagles swoop down and grab them.) On the drive, I hit seek on the radio in my Suburban and there were zero, count them, ZERO FM stations within range. You could say this was a sparsely populated area. I flipped to AM and hit seek and landed on a local news station that was talking about corn and wheat prices, so I hit seek again. The radio swept all the way around the dial and came back to the hog report on that same station. One AM station. So, I listened. Part of the news in that area is a charming segment called “The Bear Report”. This isn’t a person’s name like Sheila Bere or Herbert Bare. We’re talking about the large mammals here. There are so many bears in this area that they have a regular segment on the news about sightings, attacks, and general bear mischief. As I was listening, the reporter almost casually reported that four people had been killed by bears recently and he described how a mother with two children had been attacked at a park while having a picnic and that they and a runner who had seen the attack and attempted to help them had all been killed by a grizzly. This nightmarish bit of news radically changed my pooping plans for the duration of the trip.
I am very regular and we were in an extremely remote part of the world and the previous day I had asked to be dropped off at the shore of the lake where we were fishing so that I could eliminate some waste. To get some privacy, I walked WAY out into the woods and did my duty. I even covered it up in case there were bears in the area because the smell is said to attract them. News flash: THERE ARE BEARS THAT KILL PEOPLE ON A REGULAR BASIS IN THE AREA. Consequently, I decided that I would not be venturing deep into the woods anymore, so the next day when I asked to be dropped off my plan was to stay somewhat close to the shore and find a secluded nook.
My obviously constipated boat mates were disgusted with my regularity and had made a stink (he he he) when I asked to stop for a toilet break, so they pulled up to the side of an island that was nearly a sheer rock face and told me to climb up there if I needed to go so badly. Well, I enjoy rock climbing anyway and I really did have to make a deposit, so I climbed. The other side of the rock face was a little steep too and I ended up sliding down part of it and getting a little disoriented, but I eventually found a little ravine to fertilize and I grabbed a small tree to steady myself and leaned over it and did my business. Done, I found my way back to the rocky part of the island and stood on top of it looking down at the boat and my friends. They were not fishing. Or eating. Or relaxing. They were all just silently staring up at me. I said “What?” with my palms facing upward. They just stared. “What’s going on?”, I said. “Just get in the boat”, one of them said. I thought they were still upset about the interruption to their fishing and that I had taken too long. When I got in the boat I asked again “What’s going on?” and my minister friend said “You know what!” and added “You’re really something else.” as he shook his head. I was confused and continued to question them and get no answers, so I just went back to fishing and forgot about it.
That night at supper with about 15 guys sitting around a large banquet table, we had finished eating and were enjoying a drink when my friend sat back in his chair and said to the whole table “Well, I saw something pretty disturbing out there on the lake today. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wipe the memory of it out of my brain.” What was he talking about? I was confused. I had been with them all day and hadn’t seen anything disturbing. He went on to tell the group about how I had asked them to drop me off to poop and that they were annoyed with me because I pooped so often and wasted their fishing time. Where was this going? My friend went on to describe how I had climbed the rocks and gone off into the woods. A few minutes later, while they were fishing and minding their own business, one of the guys had spotted something white through a small clearing in the woods and called their attention to it. “We didn’t know what it was at first and then we realized that this weirdo was mooning us. And then it got worse. Much worse!” This is the point at which the embarrassment hit me like a large safe dropped from a plane. I protested earnestly that I hadn’t meant to do it, that I had just gotten disoriented in the woods, that I was afraid of bears, that I wouldn’t dream of mooning them OR pooping at them, that I never even saw them, but it was a lost cause. I had mooned them AND pooped while doing it and it had been intentional. That was the narrative in their minds and I’m pretty sure that they all believe that to be the truth to this very moment. In this case, let me assure you, I was embarrassed.
With his “utter lack of reverence” comment, my friend was referring to the fact that I don’t hold anyone up above anyone else. Maybe this is why I don’t get embarrassed much. I don’t worship celebrities. I see people as people regardless of their occupation or income. My Dad sometimes talked about his cousin’s husband who was fabulously wealthy, but he treated “a bum on the street the same as the President” he would say. I always remembered and admired that. We don’t choose our birth circumstances or genetics or a lot of our inputs, right? Of course, I like certain people more than others and I admire some of them and dislike a few, but you get the point. My friend is a very successful minister and has written many books and spoken to countless people all over the world for decades. His knowledge is vast. He is a dedicated, kind, generous, interesting, and funny guy and I respect him a lot. He’s one of the better people I’ve ever known.
However, on the day before he commented on my one redeeming quality, he was acting like a jerkface. I’ll spare you the details, but the bottom line is that he was being inconsiderate, a little arrogant, and pretty annoying. And, it ticked me off. As we were eating at a KFC in Flin Flon, Manitoba, I reached my boiling point and I partially released the Kraken.
Let me just say here that I don’t get mad very often or quickly, but when I do get angry it’s generally pretty bad. Long fuse, big bomb. There was no atomic blast at the KFC, but I did raise my voice and loudly mock my friend as I imitated and pointed out his behavior in front of everyone. Not my finest hour, but I did make my point. He asked me if he could speak with me privately outside and I raised my mock-shaking hands and said “Oh, no. Are we going fight?” in a quavering/mocking voice. He said, “Please stop. Can I just talk to you outside?” So, we went outside and he said that he didn’t appreciate my behavior and I mentioned that I didn’t think his was so great either. We chatted about it for a few minutes and he ended up apologizing and saying that I was right, but that he didn’t like the way I had pointed it out. I also apologized for losing my temper and we metaphorically kissed and made up. On the way back into the restaurant, he said “You’re something else, you know that?” This is the guy that was a professional bull rider, carries a bottle of Tabasco sauce in his coat’s breast pocket, and has a glass eye. Anyway, he explained our discussion to the others, apologized to the larger group, and changed his behavior. It ended well and he thanked me for having the guts to confront him because apparently a lot of people don’t do that due to his perceived status or celebrity in certain circles. This was the setting in which he told me that my utter lack of reverence for anyone was my only redeeming quality. I sincerely hope that I’ve developed some others since then. And, maybe this lack of embarrassment trait is one of them.
My path in life has been a fairly bizarre one. My intention as a youth was to be an English teacher. I love words, creativity, books, poems, passion, theater, art, music, and reflection. (Today, I am a supply chain analyst. Words, books, poems, passion, and reflection don’t visit me on a daily basis at my job other than through my VanGogh desktop backgrounds, although there is some creativity involved. I am also a former owner of a few restaurants, production supervisor, printing press operator, carpenter and home renovator, husband, steel tubing bundler, chiropractic assistant, cult member, conspiracy theorist, and overly dogmatic Bible thumper. Former is the key word here.) When I was in High School, my future English teacher self was asked to join Academic Decathlon which is like Speech on steroids and meth at the same time. We competed with other schools by giving speeches, taking timed tests in various subjects, extemporaneous speaking, interviews, etc. There were ten separate events, hence decathlon. We met after school and trained for these events and we practiced both in and out of school. It was challenging, but we did really well one year and qualified for the State Academic Decathlon competition in Mankato which was quite an accomplishment to us at the time being from a town of 1,200 souls. I think we finished third or fourth.
On the trip, we stayed at a Hilton or Marriott in Mankato and shenanigans were planned by my friends and teammates after the lone chaperone retired for the evening. Uncharacteristically, I declined and argued that we should all go to bed early and get a good night of sleep for the competition the next day. The concensus was that we were going to get crushed by the larger schools anyway, so why bother? We argued and I was denounced as being lame, but I ended up going to bed. There were three other guys staying in my room ‘s two queen beds and I staked out my spot, stripped down to my white Fruit of the Loom briefs, and crawled into bed. To this day, I usually fall asleep in about five minutes and this particular night was no exception. It did take slightly longer, as I recall, because of the strange pillow/bed, my nervousness about the next day’s competition, and my guilt for not running around and terrorizing Mankato with my friends. Regardless, I was asleep shortly after going to bed.
Some time later I was partially awakened by the door opening and whispering voices. I vaguely heard footsteps and some muffled laughter and I tried to ignore it. Moments later someone climbed into bed with me and I kept trying to relax and fade back into darkness. Then a slow hand and arm moved over my side and stomach. What the heck?! Suddenly, the top sheet and comforter were violently ripped off the bed and the lights came on along with a barrage of flashes. I looked around in dazed horror as my eyes adjusted and I realized that I was in bed with a beautiful young girl wearing something like lingerie. Her name was Danise and she was another member of our team and a friend. I further realized that the bed was surrounded by my friends and, worst of all, the girl who I was infatuated with and awkwardly trying to date at the time. And, several of them had cameras. The flashes were from camera flashes that were flashing regularly. I think I was 16.
I have a pretty good memory, although memory can play tricks on you and events can be slowly twisted or distorted or embellished over time, but I honestly have no memory of exactly what happened next. I remember Danise becoming very embarrassed too which the pictures that circulated around our group and around the school would also testify to. I don’t think she had thought the whole thing through completely. I didn’t see all of the pictures because I think the takers were afraid that I would attack them, take the pictures, and destroy them. I also vaguely remember lunging for the covers and having a tug of war with someone over them and then wrapping myself in them very tightly. Regardless, for a young boy with self-esteem issues to start with, this event produced nearly fatal embarrassment. Most of my close friends and most of the girls that I had crushes on had just seen too-tall, super skinny me with bed head and in my underwear. Since then, I’ve had years at a time where I’ve not recalled this event and then I’ll see a picture from that era or a reference will be made to Mankato and the memory will pop up in its tighty-whiteys like a thin white apparition with a mullet. Memory is a labyrinth.
Back to the initial question: Why do we get embarrassed? I believe it’s at least partially because we’ve done something or had something done to us that we feel will result in a loss. Loss of status, hope, control, something desired, respect, something we cherish, etc. In Canada, I felt that I had lost respect and that people thought I was someone other than who I am. In Mankato, I probably felt that I had been betrayed by my best friends while being humiliated and possibly losing the chance to marry and enjoy a lifetime of romance and bliss with Stephanie or Danise or Melanie or anyone else within a 50 mile radius of North Branch. Mankato upset me much more than Canada because I could handle the slight loss of respect of some guys that I cherished as friends much more than I could handle the loss of hope for an idealized life filled with love and joy. Of course, my teenage self had massively overblown the situation, but the point still stands.
I dated Stephanie off and on for three or four years in High School and my first two years of college. She was a great and highly intelligent person and I hope she’s happy now. Even in this age of social media, I have no idea where she is living and what her life has become. I have to laugh when I think of how awkward I was and how frustrated she must have been with me. Sitting in my car in her parent’s driveway, Stephanie asked me while we were having one of our many deep conversations on a date the year following Mankato “What are you the most scared of?” I thought about it and eventually said “Being alone.” I still don’t know where that came from, but she put her hand on the back of my neck and pulled me in for a tight hug and said “You’ll never be alone, David.”
In some ways she was right because I have a Super Mom, four wonderful children who I am very close with, and some great friends too. But, she was wrong when it comes to romantic love and that closeness that comes from completely giving yourself over to another person. I tried it twice after Stephanie and I quit seeing each other and both cases ended in damaged hearts all around. It remains to be seen whether Stephanie’s prophecy is ultimately true in that regard.
I believe that we all have the same needs whether we know it or acknowledge them or not. Just like our bodies need their vitamins, minerals, fiber, hydration, exercise, mental stimulation, etc. to thrive, I think there is a primal need for reciprocated love, touch, and acceptance in our lives. Sometimes people try to fill those needs with harmful things that are temporary, like eating spiritual junk food, but it never works or fills them up. I hope that you have your needs met and that you can help others too. This is the definition of being rich and living a good life in my eyes.
My unsolicited advice, for whatever it’s worth:
1, Wear some pajamas if you sleep in a communal hotel room.
2. Survey your bathroom sites carefully and stay out of the deep woods before proceeding with elimination.
3. Seek real love in all of its forms and, if you’re blessed enough to find it, hold onto it with everything you’ve got.
I’ve always loved this painting, but she seems so fragile and alone.
DTyesthatDT 