I’ve recently observed that many affected by the Boston bombings will endure similar trauma to that of combat veterans. Again, trauma is trauma. Many will be best served by conferring with a qualified therapist. It may require only a few visits; it is very helpful to discuss how we are processing such upsets. Just the affirmation from someone certified that, “Yes, that is upsetting. Yes, I understand that you are having trouble sleeping. Yes, you are evaluating this in a healthy way.” And also, “No, you should not feel guilty. You are not at fault. You did nothing wrong.”
We’re not talking about endless Woody Allen-like therapy. Most of us can weather such emotional storms…but we are all served by a well-being visit when we find ourselves in crisis. It’s a kindness you can provide for yourself. And it’s an act of love to encourage such care to those in your life who are struggling
Today a friend called me. My phone voice is pretty chill. She asked how I was. I told her I am well enough.
I feel blessed…and that phrase seems somehow tainted with overuse.
But I do. I have meaningful work, I have service, I have relationships and family and more to look forward to.
I don’t know that it gets any better than that.
I love acting. I’ll continue to do The Work. But I’m blessed because I no longer Have to work. Not just economically…but spiritually. I’m good. The Sunset Limited had a lot to do with that
With my address ahead this Saturday, speaking about Post Traumatic Stress and the impact that has and will have on America, I get that I am doing what I should be doing, at this point in my life. I am riding the horse in the direction that he’s going. I am about my Father’s work.
When I moved to NY to study acting, I found a job as a waiter at The Goose and Gherkin, a steakhouse beside Lutece on E 50th. I loved my job, I got great meals, and my tips supplemented my G.I. Bill…and one day a customer told me I was a great waiter. I told him I was a better actor. He was a producer on a soap, read me the next day and I began working on Somerset for $400 a day. I’ve never since needed a job-job. I know how lucky I am.
Last nite at the Avalon, I finally got a plate of food and wandered around looking for a place to eat it. A bartender came after me as I started to wander into the ladies room He suggested I set up at his bar…and I did. A couple people came up and introduced themselves to me, the bartender asked if I’d like some water or a shot. Here I was, eating at his station, his place of business…and it was late and few drinkers turned up. He was very kind.
I’d had this ten spot burning a hole in my pocket. I’d dropped off Ann and John Flynn, passed up the parking lot (their sign said $5…and in small print “for the first 20 minutes”) Offended, I drove around the block and found a parking meter. Then I ordered a beer at a bar…and Michael Mantell insisted on buying me a drink. So later as I finished my meal, I shook the bartenders hand, thanked him for his kindness and slipped him that tenner.
I’m not typically that ostentatious (Hey, it wasn’t a C note but it felt right and it felt good. Kind of paying it forward.