Philosophy gone awry

I wonder what it would be like to have a midlife crisis. The one I am about to tell you about ends with a crazy party that includes my dad claiming he is not the devil and risqué fire dancing. Along the way there is naked pot smoking and a gang of nerds pretending to enact the civil war. The movies make having a midlife crisis so undesirable. It’s always the middle-aged man who begins to question what he is doing with his life. The man works at a dead end job; hating the tiny cubicle he inhabits every workday. He grows his hair out long, wears sunglasses because he thinks he looks like a badass, and buys a Porsche to drive around the neighborhood. The man’s attitude at work changes. Instead of sucking up to the boss he does things like “accidentally” taking the stapler home with him and stealing sticky notes. He brags about his “sticking it to the man” while losing sleep at night having nightmares about being caught. There may be jokes about the man having the crisis but there are definitely some positives. It becomes a great excuse for crazy behavior. So I quit my job, ran off to Vegas, blew all my money, and married some girl I met at a casino pool. It’s understandable though if I’m having a midlife crisis. It sounds pretty awesome to me. People think excessive drinking and out of control gambling to try and help a man rediscover his love for life is pathetic. I say “how dare you” to all the naysayers. Everyone needs to let loose once in a while. Sitting in a tiny cubicle and thinking about doing something extreme is healthy. I am not advocating all the men middle-aged men across the country quitting their jobs to go live on the outback with the natives and Kangaroos, but I am also saying they should not rule it out. Cliff diving and scuba diving with sharks would be more realistic.

My planned mid life crisis would be awesome. When I get bored with my life and need a change I would start by purchasing my own private island to get away from it all. I have done research and the best available islands for purchase are in the Philippines. My island would feature white sandy beaches and would feature a tropical atmosphere. There would be an abundance of wildlife all over the island including exotic varieties of birds and fish. There would be great locations for snorkeling and scuba diving. I would build the perfect vacation home on one side of the island with easy beach access. The house would feature all the amenities including a screened in porch with beautiful views on all sides and a state of the art kitchen. A hired chef would make delicious meals using fresh plants and exotic fruits native to the island. The best part of the house would be a downstairs study in the back of the house.

You never hear anything about a woman having one. At age forty I guess they are considered over the hill. I don’t understand why these men are judged so harshly. Dad’s midlife crisis was quite profound. Among other things he joined a nudist group, which in a smaller town means half a dozen men sitting naked in a room discussing philosophy. They eat doughnuts and relate their lives to the teachings of Niche. When my dad told me about what the group talked about it peaked my interest. I assumed it was just a philosophy club and it sounded interesting. I got extremely restless one evening and decided to check it out. It was much worse than I expected. I walk in the room and stop dead in my tracks. My mind swirls and I am overcome with horror and pain. It is an image I will never get out of my mind. About ten Middle-aged men are sitting in a circle on folding chairs and totally nude. They are all gradually losing their graying hair if not bald and several are well into their sixties. At a certain age the body no longer holds its natural form and it is no longer relevant for it to be aesthetically pleasing. Most of them have been eating too many doughnuts if you know what I mean. One man is very overweight with pinkish skin. He is completely bald. He looks like a discolored bowling ball.  Another man is overly thin and wears oversized square glasses. He sports an uncared for mustache and quite frankly looks like a decrepit porn star way past his prime.  I try so hard not to look down but it is so hard not to. My brain fights my head for control but my brain gives in. I didn’t really see anything and I bet some of the more rotund gentlemen have trouble finding their own penis. I turn around to run but my dad’s voice stops me.

“Hey, son. What are you doing here?”

My dad gets up and starts walking towards me.

“Oh god. Please don’t get up. What the hell is going on here?”

The ugly naked men are staring at me and I am feeling uncomfortable. I have no choice but to look at their frowns and I get a knot in my stomach. I have seen my dad in awkward situations before. He got drunk one night at a party at our house and danced to the song “Roxanne” with his fiend Berry. They were clutching each other and crying. He tried to explain by saying he was trying to recapture his youth but I have never understood the incident. The other guests got unnerved and the party ended quickly. The bigger pinkish skinned man chimes in.

“We’re naked”

Wow, way to state the obvious. It turns out he has a PhD in microbiology but chooses to work at a local clothing free sauna. He says it is what he was meant to do and he constantly compares himself to a Greek God. Ironically, a young kid working for minimum wage at the sauna strives to get a PhD in microbiology and make a difference. He wishes he wasn’t in a dead end job that keeps him from accomplishing his dreams.

“I gathered that.”

The pinkish man strokes his chin and looks deep in thought. Damn, here comes the philosophy.

“Although, perhaps you see us as naked but we really aren’t. In an attempt to make sense of a group of middle-aged men that sit around and discuss the important issues of our time you imagine us naked. It’s prejudice of you to make such an assumption. It’s just like Einstein’s theory of relativity.”

Wow. Is that supposed to be good philosophy? Is that the kind of false thinking this group was promoting?

“Right. That doesn’t make any sense and is flat out wrong.”

I just don’t understand why they are naked. I mean, I think talking about deeper issues is great but middle-aged men aren’t meant to be naked. Wasn’t it Freud who said outward nakedness reveals an individual’s inward nakedness, or something like that? I think he meant some people are meant to be naked and others are not. Plus, why is it typically ugly men that belong to nudist colonies? I’ve never heard about attractive females strutting their stuff at beaches across the country. There is a comedy show on the travel show that highlights what not to do at the beach. It is an hour of pale overweight men walking around in a skin-tight Speedo. They always show them running in slow motion and the comedy guests groaning trying hard to avert their eyes. When I dream about nude beaches I think of white sandy beaches with sultry Brazilian women wearing nothing but a smile. That is what it is all about. I am all for being comfortable with your body but only if it doesn’t scare kids. If everyone you pass is screaming in horror there is a problem. There are only two reasons for men to wear string bikinis. One: it is part of some Halloween costume. Even in this case there are several ground rules. Looking at said man in bikini cannot cause sickness or have the chance of causing sickness. This is a judgment call and I ask only that people ask their best discretion. Another general rule is the string bikini be part of a costume and played for humor. If a guy walks around in public in a bikini flexing his muscles and feeling sexy he must be stopped. It makes other guys look bad and it’s just plain wrong. Two: they are insane and think they are either fully clothed or some kind of animal has ripped their clothes off. In this case I feel justified in giving them a pass. Attractive women can wear whatever they want, or don’t want, which is extremely encouraged. Old fat men belong in front of the television eating stale chips and sipping a cold beer. They belong indoors fully clothed so there is no chance of seeing too much skin. Hot Brazilian babes are meant to be naked. When out in public it is their duty to drop their top. My dad motions towards an empty fold out chair.

“Gary couldn’t make it. Why don’t you join us?”

Despite his smile, this sounds ominous. I imagine this is how everyone gets sucked into a cult. This was officially getting creepy. When he says this I imagine him with a deep dark voice like Darth Vader.

“Sam, I am your father. Give in to the power of the dark side. We can get naked, smoke some grass, and discuss how we can get rid of the emperor. If not I can just force choke you, but it’s really up to you.”

It almost sounds like the council decided to kill Gary and it is my destiny to take his place. I don’t want that kind of pressure. I wonder if I am going to get some sort of welcoming gift. Maybe I could get a free T-shirt. Working at a University, it seems like it’s the go to gift. For every group you join you get a T-shirt with the group symbol on it. It’s always in the worst possible color like asparagus green or florescent pink. I would never wear them in public. My dad was basically inviting me to get naked with him and discuss matters of philosophical importance. If this is his idea of father son bonding then I don’t want anything to do with it. Its like if your dad takes you to a strip club and you both end up getting lap dances sitting next to each other. I mean, what do you even talk about. You could talk about how nice the weather has been lately without making eye contact I guess. A storm front is moving in and man this feels great. An even bigger decision is how much you let on that you really like it. Because it’s your dad and you might feel awkward, you could make a joke about it by perhaps joking that the lap dance girls might still be in high school. When his laugh turns into a look of deep concern it is time to change the subject. You could maybe high five your dad and make funny faces while it’s happening to show it was such a good idea to do this. When your dad becomes your wingman in picking up the ladies you have officially become creepy and sad. Regardless, I cannot imagine anything more awkwardly horrifying. Well, perhaps I can. II there was anything I could imagine beyond the realm of thought or occurrence it was this. Trying to forget this moment will most likely take years of intense therapy. I am a consumet bro and I try my hardest not to cry in the face of horror but I can’t help but shed a tear.

“I want to go home”, I whisper to myself, “I just want to go home.”

I turn to leave but my dad grabs my shoulder.

“You can’t tell your mother about this.”

“You mean she doesn’t know?”

I warn you dear reader that I shudder remembering the following conversation. I have never really had the sex talk with my parents. There was the time my dad told me I was dropped off on the doorstep by a stork but that doesn’t count.

“Your mother and I hardly ever have sex anymore…”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

I am already trying to cover my eyes so I don’t have to see any inappropriate nakedness and now I want to cover my ears too. The other naked men stare at the two of us.

“The only times we do it’s nothing but FoSex.”

The only time if have heard the term Fo used is in terms of food. A great example is Fo crab, a fake imitation crabmeat that in reality tastes nothing like the real thing. I am racking my brain to try and figure out what the hell my dad is talking about. He has a puppy dog face as if he has just peed on the sofa again. 

“Dad, I have no idea what that means, but…”

“It means the sex is so bad your mother can’t help but fake it.”

Oh dear god. I look at the guys in the circle. They all have goofy smiles on their face and are nodding in agreement. Is this really what men do when they get older I wonder. 

“Okay, I can’t do this.”

I start to walk towards the door. My dad calls after me.

“Between that and work there is so much stress, you know. I need to just relax sometime”

All the middle aged naked men are nodding in agreement. It suddenly hits me that in a way this is some sort of weird cult. It is a group of people who gather in a ceremonial place. Have I just escaped a fate more horrible than death, a pledge to lead a life filled with unnecessary nakedness and the remembrance of broken dreams? If I find out later a new member was sacrificed I will officially be freaked out. I wonder if there is some kind of bizarre initiation process or hazing ritual that takes place before someone can become a member. I remember my days in college and some of the things fraternities and sororities did to new members. There is always the classic making them drink too much. Some fraternities made them streak around the campus in the dead of winter. Aha, once again the nakedness. I sense a theme. I heard a rumor one of the fraternities hazed recruits that got drunk and passed out at their parties. They would tie a bungee cord to the passed out recruits feet and push them off a bridge. The recruit would wake up and assume they were falling to their death. What a rush. I think this only happened once and it was made sure it would never happen again.

I never tell my mom about the nakedness and I wonder if she suspects anything. She tells me on more than one occasion that I should go again and it would be fun. I tell my mom I have plans to gouge my eyes out instead. She never questions it, just giving me a weird smile like she knows and thinks it’s hilarious but doesn’t want to spoil my dad’s fun. Three weeks after the naked philosophy incident my dad travels to Arizona for what he says is a business conference. I know immediately they are going for alternative reasons when naked fat man is invited to go along. Two weeks later they come back and my dad is noticeably tanner, has a beard, and has bought a CD featuring Indian flute music. That night I sit on the couch watching MASH, my dad’s favorite show. I enjoy the show but not the hour-long lecture about the mistakes the country made during the Vietnam War. Apparently the show can be quite intoxicating. A friend, Mike, once told me his dad didn’t go to the hospital to see him born because he was watching the final episode.  I imagine this has happened many times in his life.

“I know it’s your wedding day Mike. I can’t go. You don’t understand, I’m watching MASH.”

“See your baby. Damn it, MASH is on.”

“I am not seeing you in the hospital. MASH is more important.”

This may seem crazy but really explains a lot. My ex-girlfriend’s dad also watched the show incessantly. Realistically, it was to escape both the daughter and the wife. Man, that girl drove me nuts. I mean, she ordered a side of honey mustard with everything, even steak. To this day I refuse to eat it. The show reminds me both my parents were avid protestors. My mom participated in sit-ins and sang songs of peace with a flowered wreath on her head. My father smoked marijuana and complained about the “man”. They met at a Rolling Stones concert. My dad turns to me during a commercial break and furrows his brow.

“I want to talk to you about something son.”

Oh my god. This sounds ominous. I have no desire to talk about sex, nakedness, or any combination of the two. If he mentions one more thing about my parent’s sex life I think my head will explode.

“I don’t think I want to know…”

“I never went to a conference. We found this awesome Indian reservation where we lived in tepees. We listened to great music that wafted through the camp every night. One morning I took a walk and saw wild horses running in the distance.”

Hmmm, thank goodness. This sounds much better than I imagined.

“You know dad, that actually sounds pretty cool.”

“Well, that didn’t last long. There was an incident.”

My dad lives for incidents. I sometimes think he seeks them out to make his life more interesting. Just last month my dad got into a huge argument with the next-door neighbor over a sycamore tree. They both claimed the tree was on their property. My dad took a chain saw and cut off a limb just to show how serious he was. The logic was that if the neighbor won the war over whose tree it was the missing limb would anger him.

“I was smoking and…”

“You don’t smoke.”

“Yet.”

“So…”

“Son, I need you to pay attention. I had a little too much Indian wine and stumbled into one of the tepees. Needless to say it caught on fire. There was screaming and lots of cursing which I’m pretty sure is not the Indian way. Todd got a little crispy, made worse because he was naked.”

I have so many questions. Apparently my dad has taken up smoking now. He once claimed proudly he was going to start smoking a pipe and build himself a study in the basement. The fact that he doesn’t have enough books to fill a single bookshelf let alone an entire study was deemed irrelevant. He went around the entire week speaking with a British accent and saying things were pure “poppycock”. In the end the study was never built and the pipe he did buy sits in a desk drawer in his office. It only comes out when he wants to impress new workers by saying he is an English Gentlemen He then invites them to Shamdangle with him down to the local pub for a pint of ale. I have tried to explain on many occasions that “Shamdangle” is not a word in any country or any language but then he calls me a Wanker and says I am ignorant of the culture. I also wonder how in the world a cigarette could catch a tepee on fire.

I also have no idea what Indian wine is. Do they make their own wine as part of a tradition or something? I imagine Native Americans sitting in tepees drinking perfectly aged Shiraz from wine glasses.  They eat aged cheese delicately combined with smoked salmon and placed on crackers. They discuss their love of yachting and delicately comb their $1.000 haircuts. In reality I’m sure the naked philosophy crew brought the wine in themselves and this was the source of the problem. By saying that Todd got crispy my dad means fat naked man ran around the camp on fire.

“Uh, I don’t…

“Indian hair is extremely flammable.”

“What? Yeah, that sounds racist.”

My dad stops and gives me a sideways glance. He adjusts himself and continues unfazed.

“You’re missing the point. We had to leave and went down the road to a hotel. It was kind of a dump actually. We gathered…”

“And you got naked… I accept the fact that you get nude with your weird friends. I really don’t need to hear this.”

“Sam, you do need to hear this. This is a very important lesson.”

I can’t possibly imagine what kind of life lesson I am supposed to learn from this. There is no way I am going to reach a tough place in my life and think: “my dad set a Native American camp on fire and got naked with his friends; now I know what I want to do with my life.” It doesn’t seem plausible. Against my better judgment I am going to give my dad the benefit of the doubt.

“Alright, I’m sorry. Continue.”

“It just so happens that everyone was naked, but it was secondary nakedness. We decided to smoke some pot. It reminded me of college, having to put a towel under the door to keep smoke from getting out. As I took a hit from the bowel and looked through the lingering smoke to see naked men munching on Cheetos, the crumbs falling into ungodly parts of their body, I realized; holy crap, I am having a midlife crisis.”

I sit there for a second and don’t say anything. Wow. I am truly stunned. I want to laugh at the absurdity of it all but I know this is supposed to be serious. The imagery swirling around in my mind is intense. Old men laughing and joking with smoke swirling around them. In my head they all look so happy. The world has melted away and they are lost in the moment for the first time in years. Their troubles have been buried and for the briefest of times the mind is clear. It’s beautiful really.

“The point is, never lose sight of the ones you love. I thought I needed to drastically change my life to be happy. I realize now I just need to appreciate how good I really have it. I don’t love those naked men nearly as much as your mother, you, and your sister.”

Well, I should hope not.

“Son, I don’t need to get naked and smoke pot to appreciate all the beauty in my life. Don’t hold back. Go on your own adventures and discover what happiness means for you.”

I never thought my dad would ever say anything poignant. Here it was though, I am face to face with an idea I cannot ignore. I finally get it. A midlife crisis is not sad or a sign of weakness. It is an opportunity to rediscover you. People make lists of what they want to do before they die and somehow use it as a checklist. Not only was the bucket list a stupid movie but also the message is lost on me. Shouldn’t every day be lived to the fullest instead of waiting until the last moments of life to really let loose. If I get to the end of my days and have a long list with nothing crossed off will I feel like I have somehow failed myself. I don’t want to sit around and regret I never went skydiving or saw the Pyramids. Life is an adventure and I am going embrace it. Sure I don’t need a group of naked men to show me the path but if that works for my dad I accept it. I smile.

“Thanks dad.”

“Oh, uh… and don’t smoke pot. It always gets me into trouble. Somehow when I do it I always end up naked.”

“That is good advice. Believe me, I…”

“Although it was quite the scene.  Maybe not like when I punched your principal in the face, but man… Do you remember that?”

“Oh, I do.”