May 6, 2002|

Isolation Part II

Somewhere God is laughing. Hard. Mysteriously last week the Ronald McDonald House of New York City fell silent. The hallways usually filled with screaming and giggling kids were now silent. The playroom was locked. The dining room was empty. What was going on? The sign on the elevator said it all. Quarantine.

Some little rugrat came down with chicken pox last week. That is not a good thing. That actually could be a devastating thing to a hotel full of children (and one adult-me) with compromised immune systems. Children merely playing with each other could easily pass the virus along wrecking havoc on all in its way.

So the house management put us all under quarantine. All of the common areas are off limits. The dining room is virtually closed. No visitors allowed. Stay in your room.

If you think the little kids are having troubles obeying, you should see me. I can’t play my arcade games anymore. And where am I supposed to read, in my room? God has to have a sense of humor. I’ve moved from one bubble to another.

God always provides an out though. I have actually been given two outs- the weather and Starbucks. The weather has been beautiful so I have stayed outside as long as possible each day enjoying Central Park and getting my exercise (walking 2-4 miles a day!). And Starbucks. Their coffee stinks and is too strong but one lies on every corner on the upper East Side. Saved. Ahhh…the sweet smell of coffee beans signaling one’s freedom. Now if those little grimy kids would stay away from me…

Rules and Regulations

It seems lately the more time passes the more rules and regulations I have to abide by. The latest? Looking for an apartment. I briefly mentioned to my doctor that I needed to start looking for a place to live in the City. He goes on with a 5 minute long list of where I can and cannot live. ‘No basement apartments, nothing near construction, no mold nearby, preferably a 10-20 year old building, westward facing windows, doorman named Jose, adequate closet space…’ OK, The last three I made up. It only felt like I needed those though, as the list went on. Golly, where the heck am I going to find something like that in my price range? Florida?

This whole food restriction thing is taking its toll on me. Saturday I went to the Cloisters up in extreme northern Manhattan. I had just walked close to three miles to get there. I was hungry. There, like an oasis, stood the vendor. The intoxicating aroma of sauerkraut filled my nostrils. Like Pepe le Pew’s scent, I could visibly see the smell. Oh. Just one hot dog. It wouldn’t hurt. Oooohhh! Thankfully my companions pulled me away. 25 more days, 25 more days, 25 more days…

This is not to say that I haven’t broken a few rules here or there. I have I admit. I just won’t post them to the world. The scary thing about a web site is that everyone in the world can read it, including certain doctors, or rather a certain doctor…named Dr. Perales…who would be none so happy as read of my various bad behavior…

But all of this has got me thinking on a macro level. Psychologically, what we can’t have we typically want. What we aren’t allowed to do, we want to do. There is something inherent in our souls that values individual freedom of choice. Take that away and revolution occurs on an individual and later on a societal level. There are too many examples to count, ranging from the American Revolution to the Cabbage Patch craze of the 1980s.

Moreso lately I think of the Taliban regime. They had bazillions of rules, restrictions and regulations. One of the most intriguing things about the terrorists attacks occurred the night before, when these ‘devout’ Muslims spent the night at a strip joint. Correct me if I am mistaken, but isn’t that what they were fighting against? Were they not against American society and our freedom to go to such places? The Taliban surely would never allow such a joint to be opened in its territory and none of its leaders and ardent followers would ever frequent such a place, right? Wrong. The night before the attacks, the religious pinnacle of these guys’ lives, they are doing exactly what they shouldn’t be doing. The irony is incredible. I daresay on the whole, those who push their rules and regulations are usually the worst at following them!

I by no means am trying to link the Taliban to Dr. Perales, even though I would like to sometimes. Rather I am thinking more of the implications of how in our own lives it is easy to get caught up in the legalism of religion and culture. We think if we follow all the rules we will be happy, healthy and all will work out. But the flaws are obvious. None of us can, have or will follow all the rules of life. Our naturally psychology tells us to do otherwise, constantly. What we cant’ have we typically want. What we aren’t allowed to do, we want to do. Secondly, the only person to ever perfectly abide by those rules was executed 2,000 years ago by the very same people who were making up those rules. Thirdly, there are many who break all the rules and end up happy, healthy with everything working out for them.

So what’s the answer? Ultimately freedom to do as we please is the most satisfying alternative. Yet is not always the wisest. So maybe there is something more. Maybe it comes more from understanding the spirit of the law and its creation. My regulations are in place in order to decrease the chances of my catching an infection and ending up back in the hospital. They are for my good ultimately. An occasional break from the rules in order to fuel my emotional and mental state, under the right conditions (key!), will ultimately benefit me. The rules of life, that God has truly ordained, are here to decrease the chances of us being hurt in this life. An occasional break, in order to help fellow man (not ourselves), will ultimately benefit me, and humanity. There is a certain power in all of that. Having the freedom to exercise what you want, but yet restraining because it is not in the best interest of yourself and others. That is power. That is freedom. Isn’t that true love?

So I avoid eating hot dogs for another 25 days. I did go see a certain movie this past weekend featuring a certain guy wearing red and blue tights. Hearing the six year old in front of me yell “Gross! They’re kissing!” during that incredibly passionate rainy moment was priceless. The smile and internal chuckle still lingers to this moment, reminding me that it was ordained by a God who laughs with us and sometimes at us, all in the name of freedom and love.