David McElroy

People rarely change. Not really.

Our movies and novels and self-help books all seem to be based on the idea that personal change is common. Without serious character development in fiction, movies and novels would be boring. If a self-help book said, “Don’t bother, because you’re probably not going to change anyway,” nobody would buy it.

We’re culturally conditioned to believe that substantial change in a person is common, but reality is far different. And it’s even more rare when a person changes someone else — because humans aren’t puppets who can be controlled on the inside.

If I try to change someone else — even if we both agree the change is for the better — I’m very unlikely to succeed. It’s a foolish thing to try. Even if you do succeed, the person who’s forced the change will always hold a superior position — and that will never allow for a healthy and equal relationship.

Even though I know all this, I’ve tried it anyway. Not consciously, but I’ve done it, thinking I had the best of intentions. As recently as about five years ago, I tried to change a woman I dated — and it was a miserable failure for both of us.

Keep Reading

I’ve found you a thousand times
I guess you’ve done the same
But then we lose each other
It’s just like a children’s game
— Harry Chapin, “Circle”

The warm breeze was heavy with the scent of honeysuckle that evening. There was still enough light to see, and the fading sunset made the sky colorful as the light dimmed and the shadows lengthened. But the honeysuckle scent is what I remember most.

I don’t know why that particular night remains with me. I was about 9 years old and I was one of seven or eight children playing hide-and-seek around the neighborhood. Our house was the center of the play area. There were a couple of houses to the left and one other to the right. There was a meadow behind our house — and an old, unused barn beyond that. It seemed that we played for hours.

Nobody wanted to stop, but it eventually got too dark to see. We split up to go to our own homes — happy with the games and ready to resume our hide-and-seek play on another day.

This memory came to my mind strongly tonight. And it suddenly occurred to me — for the first time in my life — that this sort of game helps prepare children for what’s ahead in their adults lives.

Keep Reading

She never really goes away, but she’s also never really there. Like a ghost from another life — a life which I once lived with her — she haunts my dreams and intrudes on my waking hours.

It’s not convenient to live with a ghost from the past. My conscious mind has buried her over and over again. But just when I start thinking I’ve won the long struggle to put her behind me, I remember she’s still in this world. And it all comes flooding back.

Her face. Her eyes. Her voice. Her words. Her habits and her thoughts. Her goodness and her fatal flaws. And then I can’t stop the tidal wave of emotions. It exhausts me, because I’m left with nothing but unanswered questions.

As I walked down an aisle of a grocery store late Saturday night, I suddenly heard something in my heart ask, “Do you still miss me? I still miss you.”

And I felt her presence. She was there. But she was there as a shimmering ghost from the past, not as a real woman who could love me or answer my questions.

Keep Reading