pushmepullyou

one of my most fondly remembered childhood movies is "dr. dolittle". as an adult, i've never seen it, although i've since discovered it was a nightmare to make, a critical flop and a disaster at the box office. like plenty of other selectively dewy bits that float happily in my brain's repository of 20th-century musicals, rex harrison and anthony newley in their towering hats and daffy plaid suits, the communicative menagerie and that late-60s hallucinogenic technicolor all still make me smile.

although the doctor could understand them, the critters weren't doing anything strangely off-species, so for an only child who whispered a lot to her dog, the whole thing seemed perfectly feasible. dolittle's preference for engaging with animals rather than humans was not lost on me, even at such a tender age.

we shall leave aside any ponderance of the elusive giant pink sea snail (which might send me straight to a sex therapist's couch) because these last few weeks have brought to mind the pushmi-pullyu that dolittle receives as a gift. a curious llama-like bit of wooliness, with two heads facing opposite directions. it's connected in the middle, but one end never knows quite what the other is up to. it manages to fend for itself as a whole because of the central bond. in the movie, it's the object of a song called "i've never seen anything like it in my life!", but i think most of us have seen something quite similar, albeit less furry. successful partners, whether in business or romance, instinctively know how to manage give-and-take to the benefit of each and of both. there may be stumbles, but one pulls the other up, and then each pushes along the other. together.

or...

a relationship hits a rock, one half responds as more of a pushyou-pullme. the one who first pulls the trump card of "you hurt me!", pushes the other away. out of the bed, out of the room, even out of the house. that pusher then pulls inward and slams the door. is it just a self-defense measure to prevent immediate further hurt? a vindictive shove to perhaps inflict some of the same? is it a moral judgment? "i'm good, you're bad, don't smear me with your filth." so the one who's "done wrong," is severed from the mainland and forced to float alone on his own sadder version of starsea island. (he longs briefly for scantily-clad native girls, but realizes it's a punitive island, not an idyll... sigh...)

my family is filled with pushers. every time my actions or words were met with that horrible j'accuse, i reeled in confusion. the onslaught always was deafeningly fierce, and i was no match. i would burst into tears, sob, "i'm sorry," and yet another card in my suit of missteps would be added to my mother's or grandmother's deck. the chill could last for days, months. sometimes years. vindictive actions of asset reallocation or disinheritance often ensued. surrounded by such volatility, resolution was always impossible. there never came a moment when i could explain *it* had nothing to do with *her*. it was about *me*. perhaps neither of them can conceive of such personal autonomy, or perhaps the horrible truth is really closer to absolute egocentricity, and *everything* is about them. in moments of heat, my mother still brings up things i did twenty years ago. some episodes i can barely recall, yet she clings to them like a borgia with a treasured vial of poison.

as i charted my own adult waters of personal relationships, instinctively i knew i wanted a different map. but having been raised in a spike-ridden compound of spite, i was truly adrift. no compass, no sextant, just me under the stars. gradually though, i realized my boat wasn't as rickety as i'd thought, and my navigational skills were better than i'd been led to believe. not every bit of the sea was infested with sharks.

not having yet read any calvin (plenty of "... and hobbes" at that point, though i digress) i still came to a philosophy of inclusion for those whom i loved. no matter how much my heart ached, i kept open my arms and became a pullme-pullyou. contrary to my personal history, i realized the true rarity of someone intentionally inflicting emotional damage. my response, my processing, was my responsibility. so the door and my heart remained open. whether we continued to sail together or not, i always knew i'd never needlessly or mistakenly sent someone out of my life. that's one realization that prevents regret, ne c'est pas?

so rather than finish here with piaf and "non, je ne regrette rien", (which some of you might expect, but in truth the story in those lyrics is very sad,) we'll let mama rose bring it on home:

"Through thick and through thin,
all out or all in.
And whether it's win, place or show.
With you for me and me for you,
we'll muddle through whatever we do.
Together, wherever we go."