“Man is not what he thinks he is; he is what he hides.” – Andre Malraux
I will be 74 years old in a couple of weeks, and I am once again surprised to see that I am changing yet again.
People are telling me more and more often that I am different, a new person. I don’t buy that; I believe that is impossible. I don’t want to be anyone else; I want to be a better me.
We can learn, grow and change, but we can never become someone other than ourselves.
In one sense, my life has been an almost interrupted chain of changes, although I believe that I have finally landed for the first time in my life. But I also see that I have been hiding for almost all of my life.
I’ve always been a hider for all that I’ve interacted with the world at times, keeping people at bay, keeping my feelings to myself, protecting myself both from intimacy and rejection.
I’ve always thought myself ugly and worse. One of the greatest regrets of my life came from trying to be what others wanted me to be rather than being myself.
Maria and a good therapist have steadily chipped away at my hiding. So has life. So have I.
There is no hiding one’s emotions or one’s body from Maria, or, for that matter, from my therapist, who seems to cut right through my once tall and strong walls.
I hid when I started getting older and refused for years to be photographed.
I’m hiding when I can’t bear to see photos of me that show my old man’s belly; I’ve been hiding behind my chambray shirts and blue jeans, which have been my uniform for years.
It stunned me that none of these things that bothered me bothered Maria.
She refused to be repulsed from me or to put up with my hiding. Her passion for life and enthusiasm for love turned out to be more powerful than my need to hide. But I put up a good fight.
We were married eleven years ago, and I am just beginning to stop hiding.
On the other end, my therapist also chipped away and helped me see that I was a pretty good person by the relatively low standards of our time.
I’m allowing myself to be photographed now, and people are not rushing to get away from my blog; actually, some are rushing to join up.
It feels like a coming out. I think gay people, women, and artists know the most about coming out. Anyone can do it.
Some years ago, when I was giving up on myself, I decided to drop the pretense of trying to look better.
I bought Chambray shirts and blue jeans; both were farmer’s clothes. I was living on a farm, and I decided I wouldn’t need to buy anything else or care much about how I looked.
At 74, I am accepting the joys and challenges of being an older man. It is, in so many ways, a glorious time of life. I won’t fritter it away by hiding.
When you get older, many people – especially younger people in America – don’t seem to see you; they look right through you.
The Amish children surprised me by seeing me, looking at me, talking to me, caring for me, laughing at me. When I got the straw hat they made for me, they started calling me “Grandpa.”
I liked the sound of it; it pushed me away from hiding. I can be seen in a good way.
My chambray shirts and jeans and baseball caps where it stood for about 15 years. Those clothes are not about how I wanted to look; they were about not being seen.
Maria pointed out how dull and predictable I looked, and she insisted I was handsome. I came to believe the first; I’m still working on the second.
My heart surgeries, return to therapy, a happy and meaningful marriage have all worked to chip away. I’ve lost a few friends also, and that can open up a person a bit.
Maria has persuaded me that I’m not especially repulsive.
As diabetes and a heart patient, my body is marked with needle marks and surgical scars.
She doesn’t seem to notice.
I am starting to walk like an older man and just bought a walking stick to help me keep my balance. I can’t hide that anymore. I’m not ready for a cane, but a walking stick will help me feel more secure.
Then there’s my own work, the work I am doing on myself.
I often think about what Malraux wrote, that a man is not what he thinks he is, but what he hides. Just as I am committed to being authentic about my life insofar as possible, I want to expose what I am hiding and be who I am.
People don’t read me for my looks in any case.
So I’ve mostly dropped the Chambray shirts. I’ve found a classy men’s clothing store online, and I’ve ordered some shirts and pants from them. The Amish have chipped in by making one of their straw hats for me.
My Amish friends have also sold me some colorful $1.50 bracelets that I wear every day. I don’t wish to be loud, but I want more color in my life, on my body.
My shirts are soft and comfortable; they suggest something very different from farm clothes; I feel less rumpled.
I feel that I am beginning the journey out of hiding. It’s been a long time since I changed the way I look; it feels good, honest.
It’s not dramatic or radical; it doesn’t stand out. It’s like me.
Coming out of hiding is one of the important challenges remaining in my life; I don’t have 30 years to do it.
In one sense, this is exhilarating. Coming out is part of being authentic. It’s about having the courage to be who you really are.
Even at 74, I can change, I can learn, I can grow. I am wearing of acting as though I have something to hide. I don’t have anything to hide, perhaps for the first time in my life.
I’m afraid of coming out of hiding. I survived by hiding, by putting up walls and staying behind them. I was good at being invisible, staying under the radar; people often didn’t even notice that I was there.
That helped me a reporter – no one ever saw me coming.
I feel lighter, more comfortable with myself, and perhaps with other people. Something is liberating about being authentic, about being myself about hiding so much anymore.
I see the world has not come crashing down around me. And you know what? I’m even starting to like me. Those are neat shirts.
___
“Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place.”— Zera Neale Hurston.
Every word you’ve written here ring true.
Jon, I think you have been successfully growing and improving yourself for many years now. You are just beginning to accept what your many supporters have known for years – you are a complex, interesting and wonderful person. Maria sees it, your friends and family see it – glad you are finally starting to see it for yourself! 🙂
Thank you, Sharon, that is a beautiful message.
What wonderful news. You are a beautiful person inside and out. You give people hope and joy and a feeling of belonging. I hope you discover that about your self too. Thank you.
Jon – I convinced my husband (older than you) to give up his boring uniform, he could care less what he wears……anyway, I ‘suggested’ he buy Kuhl pants at Sam’s in Brattleboro and ditch the baggy Levi’s. And BTW, you are not ugly – men are so clueless about what women find attractive – you are a handsome man (I have met you). My husband thinks the same thing about himself. Most women do not find overly groomed, buffed men attractive – give me a pot belly any day over toned abs. There’s an older guy (70) who jogs around town with his very short running shorts and no shirt, thinking he’s Adonis, and yes, he is very fit, but the women I know think he is ridiculous and do not find him appealing (too vain). He is a bit of a laughing stock. Maria is a beautiful woman (sorry to be judgmental), and has great taste!
Maria has great taste and we both love Max’s, and thanks for the very interesting perspective..
God made sisters to straighten their brothers out on what women like. Abd who make a good wife. Men are clueless. Be good to sisters, they’ll save you later.
Teenage girls like the pretty Mr Darby’s of the world .
Heterosexuall women after the first mistaken charmer like bald men, of strong character, not whining big babies (think of our last pitus: women don’t like such) esp men in blue chambray. I think your vanity is just a projection of how YOU view women.
And stop whining so much. Geez
Nancy, I’m sure you are saying something important and relevant to what I wrote, but for the life, of me, I have no idea what you are talking about and can’t fathom any connection to my post. I’m glad to know someone who speaks for all women, but my wife has no idea what you are talking about either…I get your macho scolding, the kind insecure men and women do when they want to sound tough, but that’s about it (the male version of this is “man up” when their sons talk about how they feel…I can only imagine what you would say of me if I didn’t discuss my emotions and fears and pretended to be John Wayne-ish.
When men are honest and open, they are always “whining.” When they are not being honest or open, they are bullies and jerks. I can’t grasp the rest of the message. It seems to spin, you’re trying too hard. Maybe someone else can help decipher the message, you are welcome to try again here. I’m working on listening.
I think a person who is meaningful about the listener (in your case your audience) may be more well-received than a person who is meaningful about themselves in a piece of written work. I would be equally exasperated if a woman analyzed her own growth out of insecurity thoroughly, openly and truthfully. (I just recently refused to re-read a book about a woman who left the work in Mother Teresa’s movement because she just didn’t do disclipline MT’s way. When I first read that book I loved it. Now I see it as an entire volume about whining. The writer is honest, truthful and analytical, though.) Now I am not interested in the crawl out of the hole of hiding (the coming out). I am more interested in the next joyful step forward. Your blog is well worth reading because it is full of next steps forward.
By the way, I picked up a tip from an issue of O, years ago. It said that if you don’t want to feel old, get trekking poles. They’re cool. So I did just that. I found that they work really, really well for balance, plus since our arms seem to stay stronger for longer than our legs do as we grow older, we add strength to our stride when we use two poles. Trekking poles are light, so you can carry two in one hand when you need to use the other to throw a ball, or something. They have handles that can be hooked to a suspender with a clasp designed for the purpose. And oddly enough (I’m older than you are), young non-Amish people see the trekking poles before they see you,. In other words you can’t stay invisible with trekking poles. The youngsters grin at the poles, and then they grin at you (and SEE you)! And by the way two (poles) is best, one walking stick) is good, but it sure feels like either are FAR better for balance than a cane (too low and short to help with balance).
Jon, we’re longtime subscribers to your blog and were lucky Iowans who first met you and Maria there, and then a few years later at a Bedlam Farm Open House where we thoroughly enjoyed visiting with Maria and you. It’s one of our all-time favorite vacation trips!
We don’t always agree with everything you write, but your perspective has broadened our own, and we believe that is what happens when you really “choose to listen and try to understand” another’s point-of-view. Thank you for opening our horizons, We’re not ones to discount folks whose opinions differ from ours. And, as you so often write, that’s what America needs today – an honest dialogue with each other – within our own minds if not face-to-face
We thoroughly enjoy the Amish stories as you share your interactions with these gentle, humble people of integrity. And we think your Amish hat is exquisite and will probably always be appropriate with chambray shirts. 🙂
Have we seen you change over the years? Perhaps more introspective in your sharing and forthright in “defending” your blog. We believe that is a good thing in everyone’s life and the basis for the wisdom of our years (78, 73).
Thanks, Steve and Myra, I hope we all can grow as we age a good time for it. I’m glad you don’t always agree with me, otherwise, what would the point be of reading me at all? I appreciate the message, jon
I found myself smiling as I read this, recognizing the journey I been on also. The details may vary, but the direction is familiar.
Walking sticks are great, aren’t they? I have balance issues myself it it helps immensely!
Jon,hold tight to all of these beautiful comments……..!!!
Thank you, Gill, I do, and I appreciate them..
One of the benefits of aging is how we often begin to not only understand, but actually like, the person we truly are. I’m so glad this seems to be happening for you!
Thanks Ann, I still have my blue glasses, and I’m not giving up on blue for sure…
I miss you in your blue glasses Jon. If you retire the chambray, I hope some of your new shirts are blue. That is your color handsome.
Sorry Kathleen, for the mix up in names, because of you, I went and put my blue glasses back on, and thanks.
Jon, I like your ‘new’ look and I liked your ‘old’
look. Frankly, they look the same to me. I do wonder why you wear a belt and suspender.
To me. it’s your growing soul and spirit that you share with us that makes you truly beautiful.
Zinnia, Bus, Fate, the donkeys, the sheep, the little chicks, the Manor folk, the school staff and students,, town people, the Amish, and especially Maria feel your growing heart and spirit.
For me, best of all you encourage us, your readers, not to give up, but to aspire and to grow along beside you. Thank you.
Jon,
Beautiful coming out photograph,
you, Zinnia, the flowers, the backdrop. I’m very happy that you are finding peace with your life. It’s sad to see how damaging a parent can be.. Through your works, mainly authoring, I’ve found you to be a wonderful human being. I also believe that you were a wonderful Dad. Realize your greatness reflecting on all your works of life. Peace to you.
GREAT post, and I have related to it so very much! I feel like at 60, I am becoming who I’ve always wanted to be, AT LAST! Thank you for your honesty, and willingness to be seen and heard, Jon. You’re inspiring us!
Perhaps one of your most profound writings(for me)/
Love to Jon and Maria
Life is better when we free ourselves to be who we are meant to be. It takes courage to make changes. Thank you for sharing your journey to have a happier life.