Here’s to You, Joe DiMaggio

I’m not a fan of baseball. I remember being taken to the “old ball game” by my mom– an avid fan– and I was bored out of my skull. I have never seen a game that is more full of insipidity. Sitting on a hard plastic seat under a blazing sun, surrounded by buffoons cheering at random stuff. For like four hours. No thanks.

Also, apparently, Canada is excited about the Blue Jays. They are in a World Series game, so I, as a proud Canuck, am cheering too, apparently? Or maybe they already lost? Not sure, man.

Anyway, Joe DiMaggio.

Of course, if you have a finger on the pulse of retro popular culture, you will recognize the inspiration for this line from the epic song, Mrs Robinson, by Simon & Garfunkel.

Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?

Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you.

Woo woo woo.

What’s that you say, Mrs Robinson?

Joltin’ Joe has left and gone away

Hey hey hey.

Joe DiMaggio was married to Marilyn Monroe. He was called “Jotin’ Joe” because the power in his hitting provided a “jolt” to the sport of baseball. He captured the imagination of a country.

But then he left and went away, at least according to the song.

I’ve been grieving lately.

My dreams came true. I bought a house. But it doesn’t feel good. My job’s been up in the air, and my life has felt like more chaos than ever. I’m sad.

I know things will come back into balance, but for now, life is tough. If I were at all a baseball fan, I’m sure I would be completely stoked for the Blue Jays. Heck, I might even still be stoked for old Joltin’ Joe. But I don’t care about baseball.

There is a unique form of hell to be found when you pack everything up into boxes, move them, and unpack them. It’s like a hellish groundhog day, but instead of every day being the same, it’s the same shit, but a different house.

It’s like existentialism, but with extra exhaustion and overwhelming fatigue. Zero stars; do not recommend. So I resort to my old comforts. I think about shows I used to like; songs I used to know.

That’s where Joe DiMaggio comes in. It’s a modicum of comfort in a cruel, changing world. And that’s worth something.

So here’s to you, Simon & Garfunkel, and Mrs Robinson, and Joe DiMaggio.

And I guess, here’s to you, Blue Jays, if you’re still in the World Series.

I will have some good sleeps, and will feel refreshed. I will feel less alone in the world. I will find my solid ground again, and I will feel whole.

But for now, things are wiggly-wobbly. My gut is telling me to run– run to where it’s safe. Where’s it’s known. My gut is unhappy that I bought a vacant house and closed and moved in within the month. That’s fair, I feel. My gut is usually pretty smart– this is a reasonable perspective.

But it is a unhelpful perspective now, now that I’ve bought the place, obviously. Sometimes we gotta go against the grain to get where we’re going, as much as it hurts.

We will overcome the jolts that we go through, and get back to baseline eventually.

Hey hey hey.