"Masters Of Sex:" Have The Courage To Ask Questions

"We make all sorts of assumptions because we don't have the courage to ask questions."

Miguel Ruiz, The Four Agreements:  A Practical Guide To Personal Freedom

Have you ever noticed that a 2-hour movie would be over in 10 minutes if one character simply turned to another and asked, "So. Why are you upset?" Instead, we get two hours of guessing, recriminations, gossip and heartbreak before the final reel when the two characters realize that their assumptions were faulty and fall into one another's arms as the credits roll.

The same thing happens in real life. Instead of asking why someone appears angry, we make assumptions (that is, we guess) as to why he might be angry. Instead of asking why a phone call wasn't returned, we make assumptions like, "I must not be important" or "She doesn't like me."  Instead of asking why someone appears to be scowling, we attempt to "read" the body language behind the apparent scowl and assume that we've done something to upset him.

We spend endless hours conjecturing with friends as to why someone didn't smile at us or why our email wasn't answered or why we were told "no" when we expected a "yes" instead of simply asking the person whom we feel offended by, "why didn't you do (what I expected)?"

Silence isn't golden.  Unless we ask why a person did or did not do something, we are left only with our guesses and our imagination. And these guesses and imaginings can damage our relationships.

Here's a real life example that had a happy ending 55 years later than would have occurred had one person simply asked, "So. How did you like the flowers?"

The story is told in the book (although not in the television movie based on the book), "Masters Of Sex," the story of William Masters and Virginia Johnson who became famous and infamous for their sex research during the last decades of the 20th century.

In 1937, when he was 22 years old, Bill Masters fell deeply in love with Geraldine Oliver whom he called Dody.

At one point in their courtship, Dody was hospitalized near her home  in Buffalo, New York. Bill was attending medical school in Rochester and, as soon as he heard the news, drove all night to be beside Dody.

Unfortunately, when he arrived at the hospital, Bill was told that he couldn't see Dody because she was recuperating and couldn't be disturbed. Bill left to drive back to school, but first left flowers and a note with the night nurse with instructions to please be sure and give them to Dody as soon as possible. The flowers were an elaborate and expensive assortment and Bill had gone to considerable trouble to get them.

Weeks later, Bill returned to Buffalo to see Dody after she had left the hospital. Dody seemed distracted and responded perfunctorily to conversation. Bill was dying to ask why she was being stand offish and how she liked the flowers, but never did. Assuming Dody had lost interest in him during her hospitalization and subsequent convalescence, Bill and Dody drifted apart.

Over the next 55 years, Bill got married, had two children and divorced after 28 years to marry his sex researcher partner, Virginia Johnson to whom he was married for 22 years.

In 1991, at the age of 76, Masters asked Johnson for a divorce so that he could marry the love of his life. He had run into Dody completely by accident. Neither had been looking for the other. Dody had herself been married, divorced and widowed from a second marriage.

55 years after the fact, Bill Masters found out that the night nurse had never given Dody the flowers and he never asked about it. Dody had assumed it was Bill who had lost interest and her silence was her way of communicating her hurt.

It took 55 years for Dody and Bill to be reunited, something that could have happened 55 years earlier, had he simply asked, "So. How did you like the flowers?" or she had simply asked, "Why did you ignore me when I was in the hospital?"

It takes courage to ask questions. But life is short and it saves a lot of time and grief.

Philomena and The Railway Man: Freedom's Just Another Word For Forgiveness

Janis Joplin sang, "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose." Freedom's also just another word for forgiveness.

It takes so much courage to forgive the difficult people in our lives. Yet until we forgive, we can never put the past completely behind us and create a future free from the constraints of the past.

One reason I think it's so hard to forgive is because we confuse forgiveness with condoning what was done to us. They're not the same.

Two recent movies have reminded me of the courage it takes to forgive and the freedom that becomes available when we do. Both movies are based on true events.

"The Railway Man" is the story of Eric Lomax, a British engineer fighting in Singapore during World War II. His unit is captured by the Japanese and taken to Thailand where they are forced into slave labor to build the Thai-Burma railroad.  Lomax is tortured. His forearms are smashed and he is repeatedly waterboarded.

Lomax survives, but he is haunted by what happened to him. He suffers what today we would call post traumatic stress disorder, repeatedly reliving the torture.

In 1980, Lomax discovers that Takashi Nagase, one of his torturers, is alive in Japan. Lomax tracks him down with the intent of killing him. Instead, he realizes that  the war will never truly end for him until he forgives his tormentor.  Lomax does so.  The scene where he and Nagase embrace is unbelievably moving.

Here's a video of the real Lomax and the real Nagase:

In "Philomena," the teenage Philomena Lee becomes pregnant and is sent by her father to live in an Abbey where she is held in virtual servitude. The nuns force her to give up her son for adoption.

As an adult, Philomena searches for her son. She is joined by a newspaper man thinking this would make a great story.

Philomena discovers that her son, renamed Michael by the American family that adopted him, died of AIDS at the age of 43. Knowing he was dying, Michael visited the Abbey to search for his birth mother. The nuns knew where Philomena was, but refused to let her son know. They had also refused to let Philomena know that her son was looking for her. Michael died thinking Philomena was uninterested in finding him.

When the truth is uncovered, the newspaper man is outraged and shouts curses at the nuns. He expects Philomena to do the same. But in an extraordinary act of generosity and courage,  Philomena forgives the nuns, saying that she doesn't want to live her life full of hate. She knows that, like Eric Lomax, her suffering will never end unless she forgives.

It takes so much courage to let go of the past hurts done to us. The movie examples are of people who were tortured and lied to. But our daily interactions with difficult people are much more mundane: The person who treats us like we don't exist at meetings or talks over us.  The person who butts in front of us in line without apology. The person who tailgates us because we won't drive faster. The person who criticizes us without regard for our feelings. The person who calls us stupid or lazy or some name that hurts. The person who is arrogant or stubborn or opinionated or, in short, difficult to get along with. Sometimes we hold on to these daily slights for years.

I remember meeting a man who had spent years blaming his ex wife for their divorce. One day, having had no contact with her since the divorce, he called her. When she answered, he apologized for blaming her. He took responsibility for the divorce. Not 50% of the responsibility. 100%. He told his ex wife that he was genuinely sorry.

When he was done speaking, there was a long pause. Finally,  his ex wife said to him (and this is a quote. It was such a surprising comment that I wrote it down), "I was prepared to hate you for the rest of my life. What am I going to do now?"

A great question. A hole is left when we give up resentment. What are we going to do now? I think the answer is that now we can be free and powerful. Now we can create a future free from the past that was holding us back. Now we are free to be extraordinary.

"Six Degrees Of Separation:" The Desire For Fame and Riches

"Isn't that what everyone wants? A new world?"
Ouisa Kittridge (Stockard Channing) in the movie Six Degrees of Separation

I was stunned when I first saw the movie "Six Degrees of Separation" in 1993 in a theater in Evanston, Illinois. I was visiting my sister who had a party to go to. I went to the movies. I remember walking to my car afterwards in a daze. At the time, I didn't understand why. Now I know.

The lives of the rich and famous seem so wonderful.  F. Scott Fitzgerald, the author of The Great Gatsby said, "The rich are different from you and me" to which Ernest Hemingway purportedly responded, "Yes. They have more money,"  suggesting that there's nothing special about them.

Yet I want to be them. I want that "new world" of glamor and excitement and privilege that they seem to possess.  I imagine it would be a life of few problems. I know the rich and famous have problems. But they live their problems in Paris and great restaurants, wearing designer clothes and going to fabulous parties. I imagine it would be great.

This is the story told by Six Degrees of Separation. It is the story of Paul (Will Smith) who wants what I want. Things do not end well for Paul yet, to the end, he wants what Flan (Donald Sutherland) and Ouisa (Stockard Channing) Kittridge have even though Ouisa expresses surprise that anyone would want their lives. Perhaps she needs to trade my house for hers for a few weeks.

Six Degrees Of Separation begins one evening with Flan and Ouisa  entertaining a South African millionaire, Geoffrey (Ian McKellen). Flan is an art dealer without a gallery. He matches wealthy individuals who have art to sell but don't want to sell on the open market with buyers who want to keep their purchases secret. Geoffrey is a potential customer that the Kitteridges are trying to cultivate.

Their New York City apartment overlooks Central Park. I would buy that apartment if I had the several million dollars it would cost. Expensive art adorns the walls. Expensive furniture adorns the apartment. Expensive clothing adorns the Kittridges.

The doorbell rings and the doorman admits Paul into this life of elegance and privilege. Paul, dressed in shirt and tie and looking every bit like an Ivy League preppy, tells a story of being stabbed and robbed of all his money in Central Park. He even has the knife wounds to prove it. Having no where to spend the night and no money for a hotel room until his father arrives in the morning, Paul has sought out the Kitteridges, remembering that their children, who Paul says he knew at Harvard, had told him where they live. When they ask Paul who his father is, Paul reluctantly reveals that his father is the famous actor Sidney Poitier.

The Kitteridges are charmed by Paul and his connection to his illustrious father. Paul is erudite and prepares a great dinner for the Kitteridges and Geoffrey who is equally charmed and agrees to spend millions on a painting Flan has been trying to sell to him. The Kitteridges offer Paul a bed for the night, knowing that Paul's charm has contributed to Geoffrey agreeing to buy the painting.

We soon learn that Paul is not the son of Sidney Poitier. He is a gay hustler who was picked up one rainy night in Boston by Trent Conway, a gay friend of the Kittridge children. Paul trades sex with Trent for information about the Kittridges and other wealthy families who Trent knows. Using that information, Paul concocts the story of being Sidney Poitier's son and insinuates himself into the lives of the wealthy.  So badly does he want that life that he has even stabbed himself to support his story of being mugged in Central Park.

I completely identified with Paul's  desire to create a new life for himself. While this is, certainly, my personal desire, it may be thought of as an American desire. We are the children and grandchildren and great grandchildren of people who came here from other countries to reinvent themselves. To find a "new world." Our culture is based on reinvention. In fact, America use to be known as the "new world" juxtaposed against the "old world" of Europe.

Interestingly, John Guare who wrote the screenplay as well as the play on which the movie is based, wrote the story of Six Degrees Of Separation after reading in the newspaper about a con man who insinuated himself into the lives of wealthy New Yorkers by claiming to be the son of Sidney Poitier. Art imitating life.

I guess I'm not the only one who wants that life.