Meeting Karen

A Favor Owed

Milt and I were sitting at the table in an alcove off the living room of my apartment on the 19th floor of an apartment building overlooking Rittenhouse Square. We were drinking Jack Daniels, smoking (store bought and hand rolled), listening to Roberta Flack and having a very mellow conversation. What we were supposed to be doing was meeting my friend Stan at a club called Just Jazz to see a show starring Stan Getz. Not that we didn’t want to see Stan Getz; or my friend Stan. But we had made a successful early start and had reached a point where we were satisfied with being fairly immobile.

Milt was a friend, colleague – okay, my boss- and mentor. Stan, that is to say, my best friend Stan, kept calling from the Grog Shop, which is where we were supposed to have met. He was not nearly as far gone as Milt and I were and he was with his finance, Jane, and her best friend, Karen.

According to Stan, I had to meet this Karen person, he was making his point by calling me repeatedly after his fiancée, and her friend had shown up. He had gradually shifted from the original plan, for us three guys to go to the Club, and switched to suggesting losing Milt and meeting up with him, his finance and Karen. I finally told him that Milt and I weren’t going anywhere and he should take the girls and use our reservations to see the show.

That should have been the end of it but several more calls from the club itself proved otherwise and, in the end, Milt and I gave up and agreed to go. We sort of floated our way up the few blocks from my place and when we arrived, we found a very long line of people out front. We just ignored that and headed into the front door where we were promptly stopped. I surrendered my name and claimed my reservations.
“Those were already claimed.” “Hey, not my problem, they were in my name; care to see some ID and hey, there’s two seats right there; we’ll take those!”

As it happens, the open seats were very near where Stan and the girls were situated and with a few changes and a cooperative customer or three, we were altogether at last and I met Karen. It was play at first sight. I really do not know what happened but I became another person behaving well outside of my usual comfort zone. That is to say, we were almost thrown out of the place at least twice for flagrant displays of affection during the course of the show. Then again, she shouldn’t have been in there in the first place since she was only nineteen at the time (I was 28).

That evening set the tone for the next several months of what became almost serious dating. We’d go to the shore; do some clubbing; sleep in the car – all sorts of things that were outside of my ordinary activities. Up to that point in my life, I had been successfully fast tracking through several companies and had once been described by a hippie neighbor as” the straightest person” she had ever met!
All in all, I would have to say that I was a more than fairly serious person about just about everything and put in many hours in my suit and tie doing “important” work and didn’t date a lot although there had been a few adventures. Nevertheless, essentially, I was that serious guy who didn’t laugh a lot.

Now I seemed to have become someone else; defined by the circumstances and conditions under which Karen and I had met and I felt it was necessary to live up to her expectations for that “other me” when we met in the future. Like a chameleon, I would stay disguised as that hipper, cooler person who had made such a dramatic appearance at Just Jazz. At least that is who I would be whenever Karen and I were together.

She was the exception to all that normality in my life and she would have a profound effect on the direction that life would be taking into the future. On the other hand, she was perceptive enough, and that whole chameleon thing was new enough, that she knew we were not compatible and our relationship turned out to be short-lived.
It was several years before I heard from her again; she was in some difficulty. Seems that she had joined the Navy but all that structure in her life did not really work for her and that career was about as short-lived as the “relationship” we had shared. She had stayed on in Chicago for a while but was returning to Philly and needed a place to stay. Her mother had made it clear that she was not welcome at that house; or so I was told.

However short our relationship had been, there had been many improvements in my personal life since last we had met and I gave her a lot of credit for igniting that renovation. An example of one important change was that I had adapted that chameleon concept on a more conscious level and found it increasingly natural to assume different roles that reflected the expectations of the different women I would meet in a variety of circumstances. (Some people might shorten that to just say I had “become better at being a phony”; they are entitled to their opinion and are not required to think it through.)

Whatever the cause, I was dating much more regularly and avoiding getting too involved with any one person; which is to say, I was enjoying life as a bachelor. One thing was very clear to me and I also made it clear to Karen - I was not looking for a roommate. Nevertheless - a favor was owed!

Moreover, I did have access to an empty apartment! My father had joined the Peace Corps, was in Thailand at the time, and had asked me to take care of his place.
I told Karen she could stay there for a while.

That arrangement did not last long; a little more than a month later, the property owner threw her – and my absent father out. I was able to make arrangements to store his stuff with one relative or another but that still left a problem - Karen. She had told me that the owner was just looking for a chance to break the lease so he could increase the rent. Dad had made a number of improvements to the place, out of his own pocket, so that story made some sense. (Eventually I would hear another side to the story, involving frequent loud and long parties; but by then more than a few years had passed and it no longer mattered.)

Anyway, I still was not looking for a roommate and while not succumbing to another visitation of full-scale Pygmalion mode, I still found myself taking responsibility for getting Karen settled. I did find her an apartment (which, in hindsight, might have been just a little too close to my place) bought some basic furniture and wished her well.

She found a job; so far so good. It turned out that she was good at finding jobs. Being very tall, thin, and attractive - with a great sense of humor, helped. She was not so good at keeping them – could never be anywhere on time, especially something as unimportant as a job. Now there was a new job and as the weeks went by, I noticed that timeliness didn’t seem to be a problem for her latest employer. Even more curious, after only the first few weeks, Karen was allowed to use one of the company cars as though it were her own!

Of course I would have to confront her about all that. So I stopped by her place on my way home from attending the wedding of a friend. I was standing there in my tux and hearing about how this company was nothing more than a “front”. They were supposed to be a cleaning company for both homes and businesses but the real money was in robbing homes and businesses or arranging insurance frauds. Karen had been hired as the bookkeeper and while she was working for the legit side of the business, she was learning that she would be expected to do the real books.
These guys had checked her out; knew her weaknesses; knew her father was a bookie in South Philly; knew about me and may even have had her place bugged. As this out-flowing of information was ending; and I was explaining how she had to get out of the situation, there was a knock on the door. I had been standing right there so I opened it. There were two very large guys in suits on the other side and one of them was in the process of stepping inside when I put my hand on his chest to encourage him to backup; told them Karen was busy and shut the door.

And no one (and by “no one”, I mean me) got shot or attacked in any way!
I did convince her to quit although I was running out of the resources to either keep paying her rent or move her somewhere else.

As it happens, I was less than thrilled with my job at the time and had been in contact with the owner of a small company out in L.A. who had recently offered me a new job. It seemed like it would be a good time to take the offer.

So I quit my job; put most of our stuff in storage, had the Fiat Spyder tuned up, packed it with what would fit of Karen’s and my stuff and off we went. We both had sisters living in the LA area and the plan was that I would stay with my sister in Beverly Hills and she with her sister in the Hollywood Hills. This “favor” business was becoming very complicated.

The trip out wasn’t very exciting. There was that relatively minor problem in Oklahoma when the Spyder decided to take a rest but we were only on the side of the road for a few minutes. Karen stepped up and out of the car in her short-shorts, all of close to six feet of mostly legs and the first pickup truck past couldn’t back up fast enough to offer assistance. Which is when I got out of the car; but the cowboy recovered nicely and was able to get us running well enough to make it into Oklahoma City to get another tune-up. (The first mechanic had neglected to grease the points which had then burned up; the cowboy used the stricker on a pack of matches to clean them up enough to make that fairly short ride into town.)

We were taking turns driving and after a few days of non-stop driving we decided to stay overnight in Vegas but avoided gambling for the most part; note: you could have a great, inexpensive, time in that town – if you skipped the gambling part. Oh right, we also took a tourist flight through the Grand Canyon during which I got airsick but still enjoyed the experience.

As we prepared to cross the state line into California, I tried to set an upbeat tone by timing the entry for sunrise with the top down and the theme music from the (then) recent mini-series “Roots” playing loudly while silently promising myself that, this time, my California experience would be different. Oh well; one can always hope.

Somewhere during all of this, I had reflected on whatever it was that was going on between Karen and me. From the time she had returned from Chicago, I had verbally maintained, to Karen as well as myself, that all I was trying to do was re-pay a friend a favor owed for the great times and “lessons” learned from those earlier years. After more than a little reflection, I decided that I would also have to take responsibility for the non-verbal messages s that were being sent; the seemingly endless “help” which could be interpreted as contradicting that verbal message.
However one tries to “interpret” all that was happening, when we arrived in L.A., both Karen and I ended up staying at my sister’s and just visiting with her sister every now and then. I had a roommate.

It was about this time that I began to learn about Karen’s extreme jealousy. This was something that would be impossible for me to live with. My job out there involved documenting a new software product and developing a national marketing campaign for it. This was not something I had ever done before and it involved many hours at the office and doing on-site research at one place or another.

The jealousy issue is something she came by “honestly”, I suppose. The several marriages of her mother were all accompanied by the same problem – actually, to hear Karen tell it, with even more extreme issues. For example, when a step-father would get a new job, on the first day, Karen’s mother would go there with him to check out what the women there looked like. If the potential competition was too much, he would have to pass on taking the job! And not only was Playboy magazine banned from the house but depending on Ed Sullivan’s guests, it might be necessary to turn off the TV.

Karen would just call me a lot, follow me around or just make endless (baseless but loud) accusations. I tried to understand the insecurities at the root of all that nonsense but found it just about impossible to live with.

After about six months in California, it had become very apparent that a borderline con artist ran the company where I was working. The marketing campaign was getting good results but mostly from east of the Mississippi and those companies expected to see a sales rep in person to close the deal. There was no money to pay for all that travel or the other bills (including my pay!). I was getting more than a tad worried. Karen was working; think she was on her third of forth job by then; meaning there was nothing there that was dependable.

In the course of that marketing effort, I had met a publisher who was a competitor with the company I had been writing for back East and he offered me an opportunity to develop a new monthly essay along with a series of seminars. This was the equivalent of a part-time job but about that same time I had a call from another company back in NJ. It seems they had a very large and very troubled production facility they had recently acquired and several independent sources had suggested to them that I would be the right person to make it all better.

I accepted both of those opportunities and in getting ready to drive East, I had only packed my stuff into the car. Karen and I had discussed the problems we were having with that whole jealousy issue and had, I thought, agreed that it would be best if she stayed in California.

At the last minute, she hit me with the: “you brought me out here; you have to take me back”.

And so I did. And rented a nice house near a private lake but that was also not far from the ocean - for us to try again. And went to work.

Of course the jealousy and fights continued. We would break up and Karen would move back to Philly – her mother had relented, for a while. But we would eventually try dating and before you knew it, we were once again living together. It was an addiction.

There came a point when we recognized that there would have to be more distance between us; a lot more distance. So I paid her way back to California where she moved back in with my sister and all seemed well - for a while.

Remember that seminar series I had agreed to develop? The debut was scheduled for LA. My arrangement with the publisher was a 50/50 split of revenue less expenses so it was in my best interest to keep those expenses low. This meant I would be staying with my sister – and Karen.

However, that was okay; it was only a week! And at the end of the week, I would return to Jersey and Karen would stay in California. An excellent plan; I was completely at ease all that week and for several weeks afterwards in New Jersey.
Right up to the phone call from Karen to inform me that she was pregnant!
So sorry, I said; get an abortion, I’ll send whatever money you need, I said. She just said “No”. We went back and forth on that for a while without resolution.
And then came a night when a friend of mine and I had been out bar-hopping along the shore. Stan (yes, that Stan) had been at me for hours trying to convince me that I couldn’t keep pushing for an abortion. Stan considered himself as more than simply a good Catholic, he was a “miracle” brought back from the dead, after a near fatal car accident, for a purpose. Finally I said, “Okay, Stan, its 3:00 o’clock in the morning here; midnight in L.A. We’ll go back to my place and I’ll call her. If she’s home, I’ll ask her to marry me. What the hell, I can always get a divorce.”

A few weeks later, with Stan and one of Karen’s sisters as witnesses, Karen and I were married in front of a Justice of the Peace in Forked River, NJ on August 22 (Karen’s birthday).

A Favor paid.

Karen - the end of the story

On November 16, 2009, Karen passed away from Stage IV lung cancer. It was a matter of weeks from the fatal diagnosis to the end and she continued to fight all the way - even while holding a Winston in one hand and the oxygen hose in the other. I was there at the end with all of the adult "children" and Alan - her husband. When it came time for the services, I was asked to say a few words. These are reproduced below. As for the "middle" of Karen's and my story.......that will await another day.

Hello, my name is Ed F***** and I was the practice husband. Some of you might have some familiarity with the difficulties of that time – for me; but you may not appreciate the negative consequences for Karen.

She was a free spirit trapped in a conventional bind where there were expectations that were simply outside the range of choices she could be comfortable with. This led to stress, conflicts and, in terms she might prefer – negative energy. Doesn’t mean she was a bad person, simply someone who preferred life outside of the rules and conventions most of us feel compelled to observe.

And we all know what happens to outsiders; read the books, saw the movies – and there was hardly ever a happy ending.

But Karen managed to be an exception to that as well. She found her true hero, Alan B***, who surrounded her with an environment of unconditional love, acceptance and the emotional nourishment that allowed her to progress from living to thriving.

And that she did. You’ve heard some of her poetry; on display is one of her project’s and there are a great many photos which demonstrate her growth.

In all of that, with Alan and surrounded by an expanding family, she had her happy ending.

But there really has not been an ending; her story continues and will live on, directly through the children, grandchildren and, as a legend, for generations into the future. Indirectly, there are a great many people whose lives have been touched through the positive influences of Karen.

She will not be forgotten.

Musically Speaking

PREFACE: THIS WAS ORIGINALLY WRITTEN A COUPLE OF YEARS AGO AND HAS BEEN RESIDING AS PART OF MY PROFILE OVER ON EONS. READING ANOTHER PERSON'S MUSICAL THOUGHTS REMINDED ME OF THIS AND I RE-READ IT AND DECIDED TO BRING IT OVER HERE. MUCH MORE NEW MUSIC ON THE IPOD BUT DON'T THINK THIS NEEDS MUCH OF AN UPDATE. WHAT DO YOU THINK?

I’ve really been enjoying my Ipod - coming up to 3,000 tunes in the palm of my hand! Who would have thunk it? In the car, I mostly keep it on Shuffle mode; one surprise after another going, for example, from cumbawamba’s "Tubthumping" (‘I get brought down but I get up again, you’re never going to keep me down.....’) to Akiko Yano singing about "Sake in a Jar" backed up by The Chieftains.The other night I was celebrating the lack of a need to be sad while feeling reflective all the same; paper and pen at hand - along with a decent bottle of Merlot. The music of the moment was "Forever Young" with Bob Dylan from his appearance with The Band in ‘The Last Waltz’.What to do, what to do....First up; more music. And take notes.Coldplay’s "We Never Change"; think not but like the ‘I wanta fly and never come down....’ bit.Decided to approach this venture alphabetically, more or less, by artist; with an emphasis on "message music"."When I’m Gone" by 3 Doors Down can be enjoyed on a number of levels - better for you to experience it (if you haven’t) rather than my trying to explain it.Andrea Bocelli; I remember when I first heard him and thought; "hey, thought I didn’t like opera?" And so I mentioned him to a friend who was a devotee of that genre; "Bocelli? No, he’s not opera, doesn’t have a strong enough voice." Who knew? Just about everyone who likes opera it seems. I do have to say that I prefer Russell Watson’s version of "I Believe". And still don’t like opera.Billie Holiday’s "God Bless the Child" should be required listening for everyone. (‘Papa may have, Momma may have; but God Bless the Child who has his own.’)I suspect that most people listening to Bob Marley singing about "Buffalo Soldiers" have no idea what he’s talking about; ‘tis a shame.Have to mention Boz Scaggs’ CD "But Beautiful" in passing; liked him as a rocker but of all those rockers who went back to do the old standards (Nilsson, Linda Ronsdat[sp?]), Boz sounds in his element.This is not going as quickly as I’d hoped; going to have to do some serious skipping ahead. Creed’s "Never Die" or "Young Grow Old" (...’with arms wide open...’) - hum, do we have a theme here? Quick pause for Dave Matthews’ "Stay(Wasting Time)"; move past Bowie; linger a moment with Krall on "Pick yourself Up".Pay attention to Dido on "My Life" - a most excellent attitude.Avoid going down with The Doors on "The End" but looking for the source of a Morrison line that goes something like: "So, how goes your life; would they make a movie of it?" Thought it was this cut but perhaps it’s only on the live video. Oh well.‘Who can say where the road goes, where the day flows; "Only Time"’; Ah, Enya; fond memories of when I first heard her in Ireland. Never mind, none of your concern. Move on. Going to skip out of order briefly to introduce George Harrison’s "Any Road"; just love the message of: ‘If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will take you there.’ (Remember the scene in Dr. Doolittle when they’re on the boat, about to cast of and he sticks a pin in the map saying; "We should decide where we’re going, otherwise when we get there, we won’t know we’ve arrived!")Change of mood; listen to Ernesto Lecuona for a while (Cuba’s greatest classical musician; gave it up when Castro came along).Are you familiar with Eva Cassidy? You should be. Is "Easy Street Dream" a promise for what tomorrow will bring when the Merlot is gone?Speaking of downers: for all you guys out there, try "A Man Alone" by Frank Sinatra. I say "guys" but the first time I heard the album, many years ago, it was with a young lady I had just met in a club. Had that new album with me and offered to share the experience. Don’t think we were two songs into it when she began crying. Loudly. Uncontrollably. Kinda ruined whatever plans I may have had for that evening but I kept replacing the album with whatever new technology it became available on.We’ve already mentioned Nilsson; hum, yes, good goal for all of us in Ilona Knopfler’s "I’m Going to Live the Life I Sing About...".Give Jack Johnson a listen on "Bubbly Toes" just for the fun ot it.I find James Taylor’s advise on "Never Die Young" to be better than the title.Another instrumental pause: Jean-Pierre Rampale’s "Sakura - Japanese Melodies for Flute & Harp"."Whatever Gets You Through the Night", Lennon, is worth consideration.Groban’s words to "So She Dances" brings back a memory or three. Not all good; but that is life.The distaff response to the aforementioned "A Man Alone" might be Laura Nyro’s "Lonely Women".You know how some groups have picked great word combinations for their name? Lifehouse is one I like; not sure what the hell it means but like it. Also like the title of one of their songs: "Hanging by a Moment". The content of the lyrics doesn’t quite live up to those efforts but the music is loud, has a nice beat....think you know how that goes.And now we have Larry Kravitz’s "It Ain’t Over Till it’s Over" - a worthy thought.Speaking of bringing back some memories, here’s Mario Lanza; no, never mind; before my time, really.Along with Neil Diamond, "I Believe in Happy Endings"; my reasons may not be the same as his; still, I insist.Nina Simone offers up some useful advice in "Don’t Explain". We’re all familiar with the cliche: "Never excuse, Never Explain". Or, as we learned in Boot Camp: "No excuse Sir!"Have to give the "prize" for the greatest number of meaningful titles (in the context of the present mood) to Phil Collins for "Both Sides".But than again as Phoebe Snow puts it: "There ain’t no music I can’t use." from :Drink Up the Melody".There is always Queen to remind us that "We Are The Champions".And Queen Latifah had something to say but I forget what. (Hum, how far into that Merlot are we?)And what can we say about Richard Harris (or "Dickie" as he is less than affectionately known in his hometown of Limrick, Ireland). A very long time ago, a friend and I went to a concert of his. I was impressed enough to go out the next day and buy some of his albums. Took them home to play and what I heard did not resemble at all what I had heard the night before. Went back out; bought the most expensive stereo system I could afford at the time. Hooked it up; put on Richard and thought: "now that is what it’s supposed to sound like!"We’re into the Sarahs; Brightman, Mclachlan and even Vaughn. Too much to choose from and it is getting late. But not quitting before listening to Sheryl Crow; maybe someone could explain what I hear as a contradiction in "Strong Enough". Really like "I Shall Believe".Here’s a timely reminder: "Up all Night" by Slaughter.It must be the hour. The title of Sophie B. Hawkins’ "As I Lay Me Down" reminds me of something from my childhood. A cowboy movie (not a very good one) which had a scene that made a strong impression on me; the too young bad guy lies dying in the street and we hear him repeat his version of that famous prayer; "Now I lay me down to sleep and if I cry before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take."Okay, time for me to give it a rest. A few quick notes: try Stone Temple Pilots ("Big Empty"); the early Tom Waits (you won’t believe his rendition of "Jersey Girl"; it was written by him and covered by that other guy who did it exactly as did Waits).Try out Tracy Chapman’s "Remember the Times" - more real now than ever. And Van Morrison: "These Are The Days". Close it out with Dylan’s boy on The Wallflower’s "How Far You’ve Come".

Stray Thoughts on “Baggage”& Dating over the age of 50

People in pursuit of their next perfect match seem to prefer that this new individual come along with a minimum of “baggage”. That is something which should be defined carefully by everyone but the thoughts which follow are geared towards those of us over 50 in favor of promoting more consideration in how we deal with each other. Think about it, how boring must someone be to have lived close to or more than a half of a century with only a duffle bag worth of “baggage” to show for it? Is that the type of person you want to spend the rest of your time with?

When you pack to go away on a trip there are many things you manage to take into consideration; how long you’ll be away; whether traveling by plane, train or automobile; the weather you’ll find; what activities you will do and even what you might want to bring back with you. In the end, you only take what you think you’ll need and leave the rest behind. You should give at least that much thought to the “trip” you are planning to find the person you hope to spend the rest of your life with.

It’s not about the volume of the baggage; it’s how it is sorted, reduced, packed and carried; these are what count. Sorting shows an understanding of priorities. Reducing demonstrates learning capabilities, especially concerning how to put aside what is no longer relevant. Packing requires special skills in its own right in, for example, deciding what will be necessary wherever a particular journey is expected to take you. But carrying the load, that’s what it is all about. Does the person make it look easy or do they become bent over by the weight? This is not simply an issue about style but has a lot to do with attitude. Is there a display of quiet dignity; perhaps a demonstration of how to be walking tall proud; or finger pointing anger; possibly just how to succeed at whining? Whatever display is on the outside, it’s finding out about the real person on the inside that is the challenge. Is there strength; adaptability; learning?

As to defining “Baggage”; that can be just about anything: people, physical, spiritual, emotional, financial and so forth. Your “list” would include what is important to you. But the key thing is that “baggage” always seems be considered negative. If there are positive traits, learning experiences, physical improvements, financial gains or whatever, they are assets. The confusion comes in when what is considered baggage by one person is considered by another to be an asset! It does get complicated out there in the real world.

People baggage could include, but is not necessarily limited to, kids, problem spouses, former in-laws, friends, and coworkers - possibly even neighbors. These attachments may be baggage when they can’t be kept out of the new relationship and have a tendency to be disruptive. They could be viewed as assets if they bring more joy then pain.

Physical baggage could be anything from car, living arrangements (including geographical), actual clothing, material acquisitions, etc., etc.

The spiritual may be beliefs that are life defining for one person or another and is an area that should be clarified as early as possible.

Emotional baggage could be the worst of them all and covers so much ground that it is difficult to summarize in a sentence or two. The central issue is whether a person has had their spirit crushed and remained intact or damaged to a greater or lesser extent?

“Financial” is a very large but fairly self-explanatory topic and will be left that way for now.

You need to do an audit of your own baggage; get it all sorted out and pack away what can be - for now. And in making your disclosures to your new friend, have a sense of timing, information requires context and premature disclosures tend to lack that context. You must also note the impact of what you are saying on the other person and don’t get so caught up you see and hear only yourself. And be sure to balance the display of baggage with your assets.

Okay, it’s kind of obvious when the baggage you’re carrying is worn, torn and generally beat up that there are going to be problems. Potential partners can take a look and decide if a fixer-upper may be worth it or not.

The real potential for harm is more subtle and can be summed up in one word - expectations. We’ve all seen how abused puppies can become hand-shy adult dogs - or turn on a dime vicious. Can’t always tell which is going to be which. It can be hard to tell with people as well – and it doesn’t have to have started when they were children!

We forever hear that “people don’t change”; nonsense, when does that stop? At age five? (It has been said by more than one expert and even a Catholic Saint: “give me child up to the age of five and I will make them into whatever I want.”)

If tragedy had not already been reserved for kings, it could be said to be reserved for all those people who never change. They live life on automatic pilot repeating a series of days and years with a minimum of thought. Their life, for all intents and purposes, ended with graduation from high school or college or some other major mile marker. The difficulty comes in when they expect a new person to fit in with the pre-defined life template.

And then there are the people who see every person they meet as a re-run of someone they already knew. Leading to preconceived expectations, self-fulfilling prophecies and no end of potential problems – even when the expectations seem to be positive! One very large problem is that, unfortunately, those new people are probably not aware of the roles they have been assigned - which will cause no end of confusion all around. And that is some heavy baggage indeed.

Some people are changing throughout all of their years - not always necessarily for the better but still….

Those with a capacity for growth and learning can recognize that different people will bring a variety of personalities to these interactions and be prepared to enjoy each person and each experience as unique. Their baggage is lightly held.

(On a personal note; while my journey through the internet world of social introductions was fraught with challenges, it has been a success and therefore well worth the pain. More recently I have been assisting someone else through the process and I thought I would record a few thoughts on the topic.)