the second saddest story known to man

and how we may be able to rewrite it

Contemporary life is absent accountability, it is absent encouragement, and it is absent community. Particularly for men. Our vision is a world served by better men: fathers, husbands, sons, brothers, uncles, friends, lovers, workers and humans. Become part of project kathekon by subscribing below.

---

It will take some time to get to the second saddest story, so let’s begin with what many have dubbed the saddest story ever told:

For sale: baby shoes, never worn.

Ernest Hemingway is said to have penned the above six-word story. He didn’t. But not letting the truth get in the way of a good story, the story of the story goes that Hemingway won a bet from his fellow writer friends to come up with a six-word short story which he not only did, but it brought one of them, Arthur C. Clarke,¹ to tears.  

Setting some context ahead of the second saddest story, I like to think I had a pretty good pandemic. I ran more than ever before; I read more books; I was fortunate to spend more time with my wife and kids; I had a dedicated office in my house from which to work, write and take my daily morning vacation with doors closed as the sun rises. 

But that has changed of late. It seems that proverbial straw on the camel’s back seems to be the feelings I’m having as we return to normalcy in the waning days of the pandemic here in the US (not to say anything about the fact that it’s not better everywhere and the guilt this causes which soon turns to anger at the selfishness of people not getting the vaccine - hell, any vaccine - when it’s on offer (but I digress)).

This should be a joyful time of realistic hope - yet it doesn’t feel like that right now.

I turned 40 in March, and while I didn’t come right out at the time and say how much it impacted me, the fact that I wrote about turning 30 instead should tell you what was just under the surface.  The biggest what-the-fuck-happened was when I did the math and realized that I’ve built a career over the past 18 years; if all goes well, I’ll likely have another 18. And I started to have serious questions about where I am, where I want to be, and what comes next.  Add to that navigating significant changes at work, and I wouldn’t hold it against you if you’re mouthing the words: mid-life crisis.

I was stalled like when I would attempt to fly a plane in Chuck Yeager’s Flight Simulator - no matter how hard I tried to pull myself up, I couldn’t and could see a crash landing in my future.  So after a shit swim on Wednesday cut short because I was in my head, and a shit run while trying to clear my head further, I sent a message to the 10thousand1 crew":

I’ll come right out and say it: I’ve been in a terrible funk. I feel like...these past few months [I’ve had] a rollercoaster of emotions and questions about what things look like going forward.  I’m not sure if there’s a point to writing this, but I feel like I needed to say it. Be well.

I didn’t know what to expect. We’re a bunch of guys in our thirties and forties who talk mostly about the monthly challenges and exercise and gear tips. I could count a couple of them as my closest friends, but many of them are nascent friendships - new but full of potential. But I had crossed the Rubicon; there was no turning back.

And then it started. I received a series of voice messages from one, relating how he was feeling and offering words of encouragement.  A flurry of messages then came in: some sharing advice, some commiserating. One suggestion that became a reality while writing this week’s newsletter: on Sundays, let’s write a “what fucking sucks” message to the group to “get it out of our heads and our hearts”. To sum it up, as one said to me directly: 

I expected crickets. I’m blown away.

My reply:

Dude. Same.

They say misery loves company.² But I don’t think that’s quite right. It’s broader than that. People need people, full stop. Sure, people like to share their frustrations in the company of others. Some may say the ultimate goal of sharing those frustrations is to feel better. And yes, that’s part of it. But the bigger reason is to feel acknowledged; to be seen. I felt both, from old friends and new, and said so in the text chain. 

Friday arrived, and while the messages from earlier in the week helped get out of my emotional nadir, I still wasn’t all there. Still deeply inside my head, I was having a debate with myself as to whether we should cancel our weekend plans with one of my dear friends and her family, whom I hadn’t seen in far too long.  We have the type of friendship where we can pick up right where we left off and no topic is off the table. She calls me out on my bullshit and I know she’d always be there for me, or any of her friends for that matter.

This is how I was feeling when I picked up my wife and kids that afternoon, when my wife said, “I got us a babysitter.  I’m taking you to dinner.” For the sake of brevity - something I lack - that dinner made me realize that I needed the weekend plans to go forward.

We hit an hour’s worth of traffic - more time to be in my head, but this time with a full car - as we headed to our friend’s house in Northern Connecticut Saturday morning. My friend may be the only one to give me a run for my money when it comes to loquaciousness, so when I arrived and proceeded to be quieter than normal, I took it as an opportunity to reflect. I actually gave myself a pep talk while grabbing a beer³ from the fridge - relax, you’ll open up, just take your time. 

Returning to the group, my friend mentioned the text exchange we had yesterday and assured me that we’ll make sure we talk about that later.  The afternoon was filled with us sharing old memories as our kids built new ones in the pool and running around the former goat house and pen. As the kids went to bed we got into how we were feeling.

My wife, with her uncanny ability to know that while we are a couple, we still need to be individuals, offered to leave the conversation with my friend between the two of us and headed to bed.⁴ We proceeded to dive deep into how we were both feeling: about life, careers, and what it all means. We talked until nearly midnight - a full 3 hours past my normal bedtime. I’d be lying if I said we solved it all. I struggled to fall asleep replaying the past week’s emotions, thoughts and feelings.

But today, I awoke refreshed. The kids continued to build more memories while the four of us talked.  I went for a run - far longer than I intended - to be in the woods, in my thoughts and reflect on what we unearthed. We concluded the weekend with a hike with our two families. I felt at peace on the ride home. I started to positively look forward to the week ahead.

All because I reached out to my friends.⁵ Friends, plural. Both nascent and deep. Which brings us to the second saddest story, which I’ll attempt to tell in six words:

No seats needed at his funeral.

To expand on this - with data as my wife likes to call me out on - the number of men reporting 10 or more friends has more than halved since 1990 with only 15% of men making this claim today compared to 40%. But why bury the lead: the number of men who claim they have no close friends has quintupled since 1990 from 3% to 15%.  Let that sink in for a moment.

So, how are you, Papa? If there is even an element of truth to the story about the saddest story, Hemingway likely had friends. He also died by suicide, one of the “deaths of despair” that are also rising, particularly among men.⁶ I wonder whether he reached out to his close friends; or if they reached out to him.

With that, I ask you to do one thing this week: reach out to a friend. You could call, send actual handwritten mail, write an email, a simple text, or a video chat - the choice is yours. The key is to let him or her know you care. Let’s rewrite this story.

---

in case you missed it

Let’s have a look at what’s been happening at project kathekon:

recently at project kathekon

• We played six degrees of Kevin Bacon. Sort of. Still looking for a prizewinner to the first footnote question.

• We talked about the importance of starting over, while not stopping completely.

• We started a conversation about the importance of independence. With Brandon’s suggestion, I have an “offsite” on the books, which given this week’s post, will likely prove very beneficial.

books, jerry. they (still) read books.

We recently introduced project kathekon’s book barter service. We’re still waiting for our first offeree and will be putting out a second offer later this week. The first book on offer is Together by Dr. Vivek Murthy. If you want to learn more about what was written above today, I highly suggest you ask for the book.

Already read it? Feel free to let others know in the comments what you think. Have a book to share?

we’re in the throes of another 10thousand1 challenge.

As you can see from the above, 10thousand1 isn’t just about the challenge. It’s about people needing people. This month the challenge is seconds of bridge holds. There’s plenty of time to catch up. Join us. You may meet a friend you didn’t know you needed.

We have more in store for you. Until then, we encourage you to subscribe if you haven’t already, or share it with someone.

1. Hope you liked the not-so-obscure reference.

2. A great lyric to a fantastic Soul Asylum song.

3. Non-alcoholic of course.

4. Thank you, again, for knowing me so well.

5. This is where, if I appreciated the Beatles, I would add in the following lyrics:

Help me if you can, I'm feeling down

And I do appreciate you being 'round

Help me get my feet back on the ground

Won't you please, please help me?

6. Help is available 24/7 by calling 800-273-8255.