I seem to have been in a pandemic funk. Nothing seemed to be important. No motivation to post. Who could possibly want to read about my life, which, I suspect is not relatable to most people? A life of extreme white privilege but still seems to be lacking. A career nearing an end. An aging gay man who may be single the rest of his life. An insignificant life.
And then on Memorial Day, one of my neighbors hung himself in the garage of his $4m house. The forty-year-old man left behind a wife and two children who were in the house at the time. Two weeks later the wife had a double mastectomy.
Learning this tragic news catapulted me out of my funk. I can’t explain why learning of someone else’s tragedy made me feel better about my life. It just did.
While I didn’t know the family, they depicted a version of the American dream. A stunningly beautiful mid-century inspired home which is one of the new architectural gems in the neighborhood. Very expensive cars in the driveway with kids playing in the yard, which, always seems to be manicured to perfection. It looked like a perfect life, yet, something was terribly wrong. Now the dream has turned into a nightmare.
Surely, this man knew about his wife’s illness. If the wife doesn’t survive cancer the children will be orphaned. How could he kill himself knowing that his children could eventually be orphaned? I know my questions don’t make sense as I don’t know the catalyst for the suicide.
Last Sunday, Bruce showed up at my house with a Lamborghini Huracan he had rented for the weekend. We got coffee at nearby locally-owned coffee shop before driving around the neighborhood looking at houses. We stopped at a birthday party being thrown for three 10-year-old boys a few houses down the street from my house. The young boys went crazy over the car. The moms swooned over Bruce. Bruce gave each of the birthday boys a ride in the Lambo. The boys were so excited to ride in the car.
The next day, my neighbor who hosted the party, stopped by to thank me. She told me the Lambo rides made the day special. It was especially memorable for one of the boys who is the son of the man who killed himself. She told me the boy can’t stop talking about the car and how much fun he had because, “Bruce drove really fact and made the car roar”. She said the boy has been so sad but snapped out of it because of the ride in the Lambo. Knowing this warmed my heart.
So an ostentatious display of wealth helped a young boy snap out of sadness for a while. Perhaps my life isn’t as insignificant as I thought.
The Corporate Slave 