Your great reverence for surprise, Wuck, has always fascinated me. <quote-01>Is it that, for all your high-mindedness, you still delight in something that undercuts your practice and expertise?<quote-01> Or is there—I know you’re gonna hate this—a simpler, perhaps more childish part of you that’s <quote-02>simply tickled by surprises?<quote-02>

Murph, I know, often pokes fun at how disconnected you are from your childhood, how embarrassed of it you seem. But, honestly, I don’t know much. I never really hear you talk about your childhood.

Murph himself has shared moments from his own brief childhood—albeit fictionally in his novel—with a depth that gives me the body bends. At least I assume those scenes were based on his own life.

And last year, before we started these letters, I shared with you both a fumbling series of drafts for what I thought was my next project: writing to my toddler son in order to trace the pathway of my life back to my conflicted suburban childhood—how my best friend hung himself in his closet, how my family kept secret my dad’s scalding wrath, my mom’s oddball hysteria. What I’m saying is that I too need to embrace a return to my childhood, to find some essential part of me back there. And I need friends, I think, to help me do it.

Much of my healing the past few years has been about turning towards the little boy that I was—really seeing him—both back then and here inside me still, a balding thirty-eight-year-old man. I think most of my life I’ve tried to protect that little boy by being good—in school, in relationships, in church, whatever. But I’ve been cruel to him at the same time: I don’t allow him to be weak or scared, to fail, drop out, or not have answers. And yet I show infinite embrace to the less-covertly fucked-up peers I find in the local jail—those in gangs, on meth, and in prison. It’s taken years for me to see how I’m giving these reflections of my messier inner self the kind of embrace I don’t know how to give myself. It’s hard work to return to my childhood self, to embrace what I’ve been running from, trying to outpace and lose. I’ve found that this blossoming inner kindness, though, comes very close to my <quote-03>brightest moments of prayer<quote-03>.

So that’s some of my work.

The more I think about this, I see that you, Murph, never turned on your inner boy. You <quote-04>never turned away<quote-04>, tried to be someone different. You kept your fucking choo-choo-train wallpaper, never hid your nail-biting or board games or bobbleheads. You still play video games and host HeroQuest Thursdays at your mother’s dining room table. Basically, I see in you, Murph, the total contrast to guys like Wuck and me. Is this why we love you so much, why you’ve been the natural ring-leader of our fraternity of men-children who keep returning from our adult lives to a space where it’s okay to play games like handball, okay to re-watch Home Alone with lovely cheese pizzas, okay to wax aloud about the magical glow of Christmas decorations every December? You created the space we all needed to be both boys and men-in-the-making—at the same time.

This feels good. We never get to talk about our group like this.

The closest has been with you, actually, Wuck. You surprised me one Guy Night with your zealous declaration about how important this group of friends is. It gave me pause. For most of us, I usually think, this group of high school buddies still getting together is just a ceremonial recreation of our suburban boyhoods. Even in high school we stormed elementary school playgrounds at night to play four square while our teenage peers tried to score alcohol. But I wonder if for you, Wuck, this group was your first childhood, starting in high school. You <quote-05>sing its praises<quote-05> the way Murph does his boyhood.

I could be way off on all this. But what a gift to be corrected if I am.

Can you, then, tell us more about Little Nick Webber before we met him? We know the fun stuff to pantomime: the tame fundamentalism of your parents, <quote-06>mellow and vanilla<quote-06>; the American religion that soon drove you bonkers. But I don’t know much else about that little guy: what he loved, who he was expected to be, who his friends were, how he passed the time.

Pastimes. What a term. I’m seeing baseball in a new light as I interrogate you, Wuck. The game, the fandom, the lore, the players—is baseball the ultimate integration of both boyhood and adulthood? Is that why it’s the national pastime? Are we rendered children again while marveling wide-eyed at the endless green of the outfield, even as we drink beer, compare stats, and freely cuss? No wonder baseball has such religious power. That’s one hell of an integration, a feeling of healing and wholeness every time. The best prayer creates precisely that.

<quote-07>How’s that for a surprise, Wuck?<quote-07>

February 15th

[1/2] Tap Next to continue

[3/4] Tap Next to continue

[2/4] Tap Next to continue

[1/4] Tap Next to continue

[1/3] Tap Next to continue

[2/3] Tap Next to continue

<pull-quote>Is it that, for all your high-mindedness, you still delight in something that undercuts your practice and expertise?<pull-quote>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>high-mindedness? the hell do you mean, high-mindedness?<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-hoke><avatar-hoke><author-name>Hoke<author-name>
<p-comment>Are you joking? I can't tell.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>It's hard to take you seriously, Hoke, if you're not gonna cite quantum physics. Right, Wuck?<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-hoke><avatar-hoke><author-name>Hoke<author-name>
<p-comment>My bad.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>fuck you guys.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>

<pull-quote>simply tickled by surprises?<pull-quote>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>i don't hate that. why would i hate that?<p-comment>
<hr><hr>

<pull-quote>brightest moments of prayer<pull-quote>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>i like this thought, hoke.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>

<pull-quote>never turned away<pull-quote>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>indeed, has more of a reason than either of us not to.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>I could guess as to why you think this is, but I'd rather you expand on this.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>i don’t know how expansive i can be. i imagine your father’s passing had a profound effect, both in the formation of your identity and in the development of your relationship with your mother.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>So I had more reason not to turn away?<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>your childhood memories are the only ones you have of your father.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>Ah. Interesting. But I don’t think it has much to do with him being alive. It has to do with him being dead. My childhood was much shorter than either of yours. And, because it was lovely, I started waxing nostalgic for it much sooner than most people, while I was still a “child” even. I’m just more experienced in it than you two.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>this is beautifully put. i feel like i can see your situation a little more clearly than before, and i’m grateful for that. so for my sake, i’m glad i brought it up.<p-comment>
<p-comment>more experienced sounds right.<p-comment>
<p-comment>i‘m tentative with these subjects because i don’t want to take a tone that through my ignorance feels insensitive. it involves faith on my part that you’ll realize i’m interested in a deeper understanding. forgive my stumbling.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>

<pull-quote>sing its praises<pull-quote>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>i do! invaluable! surprises abound. as often as i re-remember something beautiful about someone when we’re around each other, i re-remember something despicable. “fuck yeah, that guy!” and then, “fuck, that guy can fuck himself!”<p-comment>
<p-comment>it could be that our pre-pubescent years--murph's and mine--wired our brains to attach to events differently. your memory, murph, astounds me. i don’t trust you with it.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-hoke><avatar-hoke><author-name>Hoke<author-name>
<p-comment>Interesting. Yes, his memory astounds me too. I think I'm more prone to sketch in than Murph. Never found a detail to be fishy or fabricated. He's just a savant, man. Only child, too.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>I wonder if you picked up the "that guy can fuck himself" impulse from Pat. I mean, who else says that?<p-comment>
<p-comment>When I recall the two of you together in my imagination, it's always as a high school junior and senior singing "Build Me Up, Buttercup" around the UHS campus.<p-comment>
<p-comment>Also, this wiring of brains stuff interests me if one of you dare attempt to unpack it. I don't think I will.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>it interests you but you’re not interested in unpacking it?<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>I’m not going in first, at least.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>

<pull-quote>mellow and vanilla<pull-quote>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>it wasn’t mellow or vanilla to me. it was everything. that’s part of it.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-hoke><avatar-hoke><author-name>Hoke<author-name>
<p-comment>Hell yeah. So interested to hear more.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>

<pull-quote>How’s that for a surprise, Wuck?<pull-quote>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>i'll take it.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>

‍

The rich text element allows you to create and format headings, paragraphs, blockquotes, images, and video all in one place instead of having to add and format them individually. Just double-click and easily create content.

Static and dynamic content editing

A rich text element can be used with static or dynamic content. For static content, just drop it into any page and begin editing. For dynamic content, add a rich text field to any collection and then connect a rich text element to that field in the settings panel. Voila!

How to customize formatting for each rich text

Headings, paragraphs, blockquotes, figures, images, and figure captions can all be styled after a class is added to the rich text element using the "When inside of" nested selector system.

Static and dynamic content editing

How to customize formatting for each rich text

Headings, paragraphs, blockquotes, figures, images, and figure captions can all be styled after a class is added to the rich text element using the "When inside of" nested selector system.

What’s a Rich Text element?

Static and dynamic content editing

How to customize formatting for each rich text

Headings, paragraphs, blockquotes, figures, images, and figure captions can all be styled after a class is added to the rich text element using the "When inside of" nested selector system.