Wiretap - Spring Fever

Episode Date: September 7, 2020

What happends when a man attending a silent meditation retreat falls for a woman without exchanging a word?

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Find the latest season wherever you get your podcasts. This is a CBC podcast. I'm Jonathan Gouldstein, and you're listening to Wiretap on CBC Radio 1. Today's episode, Spring Fever. The last snow of winter has melted away. The soft April breeze touches the woods and fields and streams, and a new life stirs within them. The Canada plum has already blossomed and signaled the start of spring, and spring is the beginning of many things.

Spring in Montreal always gets the jump on me. It just happens so fast. While I'm still in Long John's and wool socks, inevitably teenagers and convertibles drinking julepies, cruise by and I feel like I've just had the spring yanked right out from under me. But not this year. This spring, I'm going to do it right for once. And that means getting the right spring clothes. And so I find myself at the Lacost website, looking to purchase a polo shirt. Ever since junior high, I've dreamt of owning a LaCost polo shirt. As far as dreams go, this is not

a very exciting one. It's just that I always cheap out on myself, getting something less expensive at the very last minute, buying something without a mighty crocodile on the breast, settling for a more docile animal, like a fox, squirrel, or, in one case, what looked like an amoeba but might have been a factory defective weasel. This tendency to lowball myself is certainly inherited from my mother, a sensible woman who has always refused to buy anything that she can't get wholesale. She looks at it this way. If you're buying things at the retail price, it's not just that you're paying too much, it's that you're failing morally and are a fool. Whereas I could have stood being a fool so long as I was a fool in a Lacoste, my mother could not

abide. But then one day, in the spring of my 13th year, she hit paydirt. A friend was going to bring her to a clothing factory. I'll bring you back one of those polio shirts you like, she said. What she came home with that day cannot even generously be described as polo shirts, or even shirts for that matter. One was a kind of electric mustard color, another neon beige. There was one shirt I could can only describe as the color of earwax, and all of them had these sleeves with tight elastic at the ends that made the shoulders puff out, like the shoulders on a petticoat, and they came down to my knees. Come to think of it, they might have been dresses. But, stoically, I tucked them in and wore them well through grade nine. I like to think that I was the first to popularize the blues-on look

in my suburb. The point is I made do, and I still make do. I might not be a doer, but I am certainly a make-doer. It's just who I am. And so, as I sit in my apartment browsing the Lacost website, the first thing to catch my eye, to really peak my interest, is a Hawaiian print polo shirt. This is not because of the style of the thing, which actually looks like someone dumped spaghetti and meatballs all over it, but because of the price, which is 50% off. Why pay $100 for the perfect shirt when you can get one that makes you look like an honest-to-god character for half that? I hit purchase, and with that, Spring has officially sprung.

You just see the couples now with the short-sleeved shirts and holding hands waiting on the brunch line. And everyone has, they're out with this enthusiasm, like, you know, the sun's out, yeah. And they're not hibernating anymore. I like when people hibernates. There's no pressure to go out and try to meet someone. It's, you know what it's like? I remember I was in Los Angeles during the curfew when they were riots. This was like in the early 90s.

Yeah, and I like that you couldn't go out. Wait, hang in a second. You liked the curfew? Because then everyone was like me. I didn't have the pressure to mingle and be part of things, you know, because you had to go back in when the sun's going down, and I was kind of upset when they lifted it. So now I feel the winter curfew is lifted,

and now everyone's out just smiling, and so I'm not nuts about speaking. I don't know, maybe I'm feeling especially low because my therapist dumped me, and it's like blind dates to try to look for a new one. Wait, what do you mean dumped you? What happened? I don't know. He just found me annoying. I was always paranoid. He was ripping me off when he'd go late with the session before me. I hated that. So I kind of hover around outside the door waiting for my turn to make sure. I'd get my money's worth, and he just didn't like that. Oh, and another thing he didn't like is I'd come in with what I thought was a revelation, and he'd just sit there and shake his head going, I've been telling you that for years. You don't listen.

It's not getting through. And what did he feel wasn't getting through? Well, I had this one thing about women. I realized, you know how you get a woman to like you? She has to like you. I realized it's trying to, you know, be like something you sort of, in a movie where you stand outside the apartment and you do a charming song, there's nothing you could do. What I'm trying to say is to get a woman to like me. They have to like you

because they do. And he just gets frustrated. I've been telling you that for years, Fred, you're not listening. So finally, he said, Fred, this isn't working. As a matter of fact, I'm going to have to let you go. Anyway, so after my therapist dumped me, I started looking into alternative therapies, like laughter therapy, or there was this thing I came across called puppy therapy, but I'm allergic to dogs. I couldn't do that. Eventually, I came across this silent meditation retreat. It's one of those places you go, there's no talking, there's no internet, you just disconnect and sit in complete silence. And this is appealing because this is the opposite of the therapy I'm doing where I'm talking, and then I'm nervous that the therapist is yawning or looking at his watch. And I always have these bad thoughts racing through my head all the time.

But with meditation, it's supposed to help you let go of those bad thoughts through silence. Because apparently when you try to drown out those negative thoughts through TV or noise or any of those distractions, the thoughts just ferment and simmer. But when you actually stop trying to fight those thoughts, that's when they eventually subside. And it really seemed attractive to me this idea. So I said, what the heck? What have I got to lose?

And I signed up for a week-long retreat. It's just a couple hours away. It was a beautiful place. We had our own little room. It was comfortable, nice little cot. And the idea is to meditate, to sit in the sun, to go off in nature and be by yourself, but you're sort of with people doing this too. But I almost wanted to quit the first day because part of the silence is not just talking,

but like they don't let you wear shirts with any logos on it because that's reading. And I got a little frustrating. because they don't even have signs there. So I got lost a few times finding the cafeteria and the bathroom. So then I kind of beat myself up. Oh, you schmuck, you always get lost. You're a loser. You're wasting your time with this, Fred, or you're doing it wrong.

And at first, these thoughts were going through my mind so much I can even discern them. You're a loser. What's going to happen to you, Fred, this, that? They were just almost like, you know, a billion people like in a train and squished in. Those were my negative thoughts. But then after a few days of those thoughts really subsided. They did stop fighting and screaming, and I did feel a little piece. Anyway, so I was there for a few days.

We do these group meditation sessions in the morning, and we'd all eat. eat on meals at this communal long table, but you're not supposed to interact or have eye contact in any way. And I was doing that pretty well, but then one morning at breakfast, we're all sitting at this long table eating, not looking at each other, and I spilled some oatmeal on my shirt. It went down, and I was trying to scoop it off, and I thought I heard a laugh, and I look up, and it's this beautiful woman across from me. smiling down into her oatmeal she caught a glance at me too and i thought she kind of smiled i i kind of felt maybe she's getting a kick out of me and i like that because it's like i'm not

trying to be cool i'm being myself i'm being awkward so i'm still in glances at her even though you're not supposed to and she just had that artsy look i like the sweet maternal look with a curly red hair And so I kept kind of looking at her and was hoping that she liked me automatically the way I liked her. So over the next few days, I kind of had my eye on her, even though you're not supposed to do that. And you know what I liked about her? So everyone at this place, they had these expensive yoga outfits and designer t-shirt. And she'd come up, get up in the morning for these 6 a.m. meditation sessions wearing frumpy pajamas, her hair messy with bags under her eyes.

And I'd like that. She reminded me a meal a little bit. And every day, someone has to volunteer to serve a meal. When it was her turn to, she was doing lunch, I remember, I'm pretty sure she gave me some extra lentils. So, so what? you thought that might have meant something? Well, yeah, it was definitely more lentils than everyone else. So I thought that was kind of a sign.

Anyway, so these little flirtations carried on for the rest of the week, or at least in my mind, I think they were flirtations. It's kind of hard to tell. So then finally, on the last day, there was this one final group meditation, before we'd all go home. And I got there a little late, and I was looking for a place to sit, looking around, and there was a pillow next to her, and she tapped it, like, as if to say, sit here, sit next to me.

So I went and sat down beside her. The first time in a long time, I was able to be with a woman, woman, but not have to worry about the small talk, not have to worry if I said something stupid, and not worry that she might say something mean or rejecting to me, because you can't say anything. You can't even look at her, but it felt good being next to her like we were together with no expectations. It was an hour of just being with her and closing my eyes and the way it feels like to be with someone and not try to win them over, it just felt really good. So we finally found a podcast that speaks to you, Pure Bliss. It's so then the hour. So we finally found a podcast that speaks to you, Pure Bliss. It's so good,

that when you finish the final episode, it leaves a hole in your heart and your schedule. What now? Personally is here for you. It's a collection of true stories that explore what it means to be, well, human. The best part, there are six incredible seasons to dive into, with more on the way. Personally, get lost in someone else's life. Available now, wherever you personally get your podcasts. and I looked to the side, she was gone. That was the last meditation, and then it was over. We were allowed to talk again.

Everyone kind of sighed or screamed or some even hugged each other. And eventually, in the parking area where everyone was getting ready to go home, she came up to me and she said hi. And she had a really lovely voice. And I didn't know what to say, I didn't, I was too nervous to ask her for her phone number or where she lived, and so I just stood there a moment, just kind of smiled. I didn't know what to say, and eventually she just left. I got my car. Mom, I'm sorry, Fred.

Well, it's okay. I mean, meditation is about finding yourself, not someone else. Well, I mean, but don't you feel like you should have at least tried, that you should have at least tried to have gotten their phone number? I don't know. I just feel in that moment when she tapped a pillow saying sit next to me, it brought me back to high school where going into the cafeteria, looking around, not sure where to sit.

And when she did that thing, sit here, I felt wanted, like I had a place in the world where I belonged. It didn't matter if I maybe never see her again. It didn't matter. In that moment, I knew she liked me because she liked me. And that was enough. Sometimes all we need to rouse ourselves from hibernation and reconnect us with the outside world. is the hope of some new love just around the corner.

Here's radio producer Jay Allison, live at the Neiman Conference for Narrative Journalism at Harvard, with a story about how any time of year can be ripe for spring fever. So this is a piece I wrote. It's called, Grilling Me Softly. Seeing the living room of the house, I've been occupying for several years since the end of my long marriage, During that time, no dates.

My oldest daughter, Lily, a 10th grader, is visiting. We finished dinner and are sitting around and it feels like a good time to mention that I have finally had my first date, as I suspected she has a flood of questions, which I have decided in advance not to answer. Instead, I start taking notes. Me. Did you get my email? Lily, no. Me, I wrote you about how I actually didn't end up alone on Thanksgiving. I had a date.

Lily. Hey, give me five. Who? Me? Well, I'm not telling. I didn't want to tell you any lies about where I was, but I'm keeping details personal for now, which will drive you crazy. I'm sorry. Lily, come on. Just tell me her name. Do I know her? Is she from here? Wait, how old is she? Just tell me she's over 30. Uh-oh. It's one of our babysitters, isn't it? Ooh. Or wait. Is it a guy? It's a dude. You're gay. I knew it.

You think I'm gay? Yeah. Are you going to see her again? Oh, I know. It's mom. Me, I knew you'd say that. Lily, did you share a room? Did you drive together?

Did you hold hands, or was it a one-night stand? Did she know me? Why won't you tell me? Are you too engaged? Me, we could be married. They voted to allow gay marriage in Massachusetts. Lily, I'm going to kill myself. Where did you meet? Did you pay for her dinner? Is she your girlfriend? Dad? You have to tell me. If you don't tell me, I'll get pissed and do what I did, the mom's boyfriend, and egg her car. You have to work with me here because I can turn on you in an instant.

Do the other kids know? I'm going to tell them. I'm going to tell them. I'm going to tell them you're leaving them. going to Poland with her like Uncle Spencer did, and never coming back. Wait, is she in my grade? She probably is, oh God. Me, she's not. Lily, does she dye her hair? Does she wear makeup?

Is she hot? Does she smoke? Wait, that's an issue for me. Me, you mean you don't like smokers? Lily, not in stepmothers, only in boyfriends. Wait, I'm gonna check your collar, B, B, B, B, B, B, B, B, B, B. Okay, Jens Barraway, who's that? He happened to be my divorce attorney. That's her. Gens, Jens, Jens, so she'd be Jens Allison. Ooh. Is she coming for Christmas?

I may have to fight her. What are your intentions toward my father, bitch? Me, you're tough. Lily. Is she one of the first five people, I would guess? Is she Madonna or Britney Spears? Is she skanky? Is it my English teacher? Does she have a gut? Is she good at poker?

What's on her iPod? Do you even know her last name? Does she have any scars? Me, you haven't asked if she has a tattoo. Lily, well, does she? Does she know you have a long hair in your nose? Does she work in public radio? Does she know who she's messing with?

Does she wear glasses? Is she a pothead, an alcoholic, a psycho? Does she play games with your heart? Did you watch the sunset over a lake? Did the night watchman catch you hooking up? Does she wear hats? Does she know Britney Spears? Can she get me tickets?

Is she any good for things like that? Me. It was just a date, you know? Lily. She's not a Yankee. fan is she? Is she one of your old girlfriends, like the Freckley one from Indiana Jones? Does she kiss on the first date? Would she like me? Is she taller than me? Me, I'll tell you one thing. We drove on Route 35. I'm not saying what state that's in. And there was no one around

and it was late at night and rainy. We stopped the car and turned up the radio and danced in the road. Lily, high five. Well, as long as she makes you happy, Dad, I can't hate her too much. I can still egg her car, though. It was Alfred Lord Tennyson who wrote, In the spring, a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love. But when that young man, or middle-aged man, has thoughts that do not gently turn of their own accord, he can count himself fortunate if he has a friend to lightly or roughly turn that fancy for him. Johnny, is this a bad time?

Actually, yeah, it's... Had an idea. I wanted to run it by you. Yeah. I got to thinking, Johnny's got a radio show. He could have beautiful women, a bevy of beauties. If he could just leverage his radio show appropriately. Well, I don't think that would be appropriate. You know, I guess I'd once...

Listen, my friend, the only reason anything ever happens, historical or otherwise, is because a man's desire to impress women. It's why they built the pyramids. It's why they make skyscrapers and bridges. Well, I mean, that's, you know, that's kind of reductive, I think. What is it you're holding on to that you're afraid to give up? Your little life raft of misery and sorrow and aloneness? Okay.

You're saying, okay, I should leverage my radio show. Yes, yes, yes. That isn't my interest. I'm, you know, I do the radio show to express myself creatively. Can I explain something to you about basics of human motivation? What? Here's why you're doing your radio show for women. Here's why you get a haircut for women.

Here's why you buy shoes for women. People go to war for every war. Every war that's ever been fought has been for the love of a woman. I don't know that that's true. That's because you're wildly ignorant of history. David and Goliath, you know why that happened? Well, yes, I mean, he was trying to avenge the, or he was trying to protect the... Wrong and wrong.

David went out on the battlefield. He took a little rock. He said, hey, girls, watch this. Swing, swing, swing. Bunk. And then he was like, which one of you wants to marry me? You know what they called David before they called him David the Giant Slayer? No.

David's the little nobody nothing who worked on a radio show and was content getting the wrong order every morning in the coffee shop. I see what you're doing, and there was no radio back then. You're right. There was no radio back then. He just talked into a chicken drumstick. He would sit there like, Monday. How will I ever attract a mate Tuesday? Maybe I should have taken my agent Gregomor's advice and gone down to Sodom.

But no, he's always pushing me to do things that I don't want to do. Okay, all right. Why do you think Christopher Columbus just came to the New World? Well, he was looking for a trade route, I think. Trade route? Who was he looking for a trade route for? Queen of Spain. Check this out, Isabella.

I'm going to get you some spices. I'm going to get you some figs from Mexico. They're so succulent and sweet. Oh, what I wouldn't give for a Mexican fig. keep you regular. Haven't you ever read any history books? Well, I mean, but that's... You know why the Wright brothers made a plane? Why? Their mother cruelly named them Wilbur and Orville. They got to be about 14-15. They're like, how are we ever going to get any ladies? And then Orville was like, hey, I have an idea. Go climb up on the barn roof and jump off flapping your arms. And he's like,

we've got to go bigger. We're going to invent airplanes, change the world. And we are going to get mad play. Because of the Wright brothers desire to find mates, you can now sit in row 34 F, watch reruns of 30 Rock, and eat your little pack of pretzels with the honey mustard sauce because of Orville and Wilbur Wright's desire to get women. All right. Johnny, listen, I can't sit on the phone with you all day explaining about the Wright brothers. I got to go. But I just want you to get one thought through your thick head. History is all about the ladies.

But then... You know why Alexander Graham Bell invented this telephone? Yeah. To call the ladies. And to hang up on you. On Wiretap today, you heard Gregor Ehrlich and Fred Stoller, author of Maybe We'll Have You Back, The Life of the Perennial TV guest star. You also heard Jay Allison reading his story, Grilling Me Softly.

Wiretap is produced by Mirabirdwin Tonic, Crystal Duhame, and me, Jonathan Goldstein. For more CBC podcast. go to cbc.ca slash podcasts.