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Strangers on a train
- - - - - - - - - - - - Mr. Blue is on the road. In Scotland, this week, seeking the answers to life's persistent questions, the secret of happiness, the formula for longevity and how to write humongous bestsellers. Edinburgh, after all, is the home of J.K. Rowling, the mother of Harry Potter, who any number of craven editors rejected and who got published and chewed up the Times bestseller list. From Edinburgh, Mr. Blue goes to Dublin, to commiserate with the spirit of James Joyce, a genius who had some of the worst luck you can imagine, and then to Rome, where Martin Luther spent a year in the 16th century and was disgusted by the sale of indulgences and went back to Germany and started the Lutheran church. And then to London, to trot around to the sort of sites that Midwesterners cherish, stationers shops and tearooms and ironmongers and chemists and theatres -- not theaters, but theatres, where you sit in stalls and the red lighted signs inside don't say "Exit" but "Way Out." And rent a car that you steer from the passenger seat and drive on the wrong side of the road. And then home.
Mr. Blue Garrison Keillor's column appears every Tuesday in Salon Books.
Feeling blue about your prose? In the doldrums over your last date? Ask Mr. Blue. As you can see, it is a high-minded trip indeed, no mere vacation, and I didn't even mention the novel that I'll be working on meantime, so the column will take a break for a couple weeks, except for updates on the trip and answers to Urgent Questions from readers. If you can, put your troubles on hold until I return and can address them properly. Or go into counseling. Or do as Dear Abby says and talk to your minister. Or talk to Dear Abby's minister. Or, if you have a really interesting problem, like maybe your boyfriend is having an affair with your cousin and her boyfriend is seeing your sister, and your sister takes in washing, and the baby balls the jack, call up your physician and tell him about it: He only gets to hear people complain about viruses and backache all day, he'd appreciate a good story. Maybe he'll prescribe drugs. Or maybe he'll recommend a long trip. In that case, maybe I'll see you in Rome. Dear Mr. Blue, I celebrated my 50th birthday by visiting Scotland. Twenty minutes after arriving in Glasgow, I met a chap from Nova Scotia. During a three-hour train ride, we became friends and decided to continue traveling together for the next 10 days. We became so close, it was almost as though we were honeymooning together, though we did not engage in any physical intimacy, other than kissing. Since then, we've kept in touch through beautiful love letters. When I visited him in Nova Scotia several months later, it became apparent to me that he was quite attached to his mother, with whom he was living. We traveled together and stayed in motels and I thought we had fallen in love. However, once I returned home, I was awakened to the fact that he has no free will, no choice but to remain with his mother and take care of her until she dies. It seems rather hopeless to continue this romance. Am I justified in feeling the anger I feel? I am stumped and will not write to him until I can find a loving solution. Dreamscape Dear Dreamscape, You brought a world of happiness to a man in painful, straitened circumstances. Perhaps he imagined that he was free. Perhaps he is free and it is taking him a while to come to terms with it. In any case, the loving thing is to continue the correspondence for a time. Don't discuss the future, don't make any large proclamations, but as long as you enjoy knowing him and communicating with him, why not go on? Dear Mr. Blue, I am 34 and am dating a wonderful woman of 35, the divorced mother of an 8-year-old boy. I love her dearly and can't imagine my life without her. She wants to get married. Fine. But I sense some problems. First of all, I have led the slovenly bachelor life almost forever and she likes things to be neat. Disappointment. And I've lived alone for so long that I don't know how to take the feelings of others into consideration. I want to marry this woman, but I fear I will make an awful husband. And I still lust very strongly over other women. I care for her deeply and have never been unfaithful to her except in my fantasies. But I fear that I am very weak. It would kill me to hurt her. I have never been unfaithful, but I fear I may be exactly that type. Finally, there is her son. He and I get along quite well and think very highly of one another, but I am scared about what kind of father I will be. I can't imagine trying to help a young boy get through the same problems I faced at his age. I have been alone all my life. I hated the loneliness, but I got used to it. I fear I have become so entrenched in the single life that it would be impossible to share it with her, despite the fact that sharing my life is exactly what I want to do. Any thoughts would be welcome. Doubtful Dear Doubtful, You are putting yourself through the agony of self-discovery, and don't let me interrupt you. You go right ahead: It's good for you. Take a good long look at the dishes piled in your sink, the hamburger pods strewn on the table, the deceased socks behind the couch cushions, the copies of Playboy under the bed among the dust hippos, the anxious face in the mirror, and ask yourself if this is who you want to be at the age of 40, or 50, or 60. There isn't an easy answer to this question. You're the one to answer it. You entrenched yourself and you can disentrench. (How's that for a wishy-washy answer?)
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