Assholian Resistance

My sister, Anne Marie, passed away on March 17, 2009 at the age of 55. Her death was unexpected, and a long backstory preceded it (as is true for any death).

A good friend and fellow poet/multi-genre artist, Mar Walker, has honored Anne Marie online at the following sites:

Memorial Blog
Poetry Performance
Quilts

My own writing and reflections around Anne Marie's death are still emerging and very raw. Most of my energy after her burial has been directed toward settling her estate, which is a eufemism for dealing with vendors, creditors and attorneys.

My euphemistic partners include New York State Electric and Gas, Citibank, American Express, Macys, Wells Fargo, Wachovia, State Farm, the IRS, the New York State Police, the Westchester County Medical Examiner, the New York State DMV, Franklin-Templeton, TIAA-CREF, West Asset Management and Verizon, among others.

While my sister died in some debt, and creditors have every right to recover what is theirs, the diverse levels of competence, compassion, reason, and systemic chaos within high-tech, low-consciousness bureaucratic infrastructures, while not surprising, ranges from very frustrating to absolutely infuriating as I go about my executor's "due diligence."

If you were to guess and rate the above institutions from lowest to highest in terms of competence, compassion and reason, what might your ratings be?

I will have much more to say about this in coming months, and, probably years. For now, my top three experiences have been with the New York State Police, TIAA-CREF, and the NYS DMV. The IRS did a slow, methodical and competent job as well.

My own personal work (i.e. my ongoing development) continues to manifest through this process as I attempt to hold the perspectives of the individuals on the other phones, who are doing as they are told in order to do and keep a job--a position for which I have both empathy and compassion, even as they misplace files, ask for the third time for a death certificate, or having received it, continue to write to my sister, five months after being notified of her death, opening with, "We do not understand your reluctance to pay your balance" (Allied Interstate on behalf of Verizon Wireless, August 6, 2009).

"Well, shit. I'm sorry. Everything seems harder since I died on St. Patrick's Day. And the mail service, nevermind the internet connection, is just horrible inside this box below the earth on top of my mother and next to my father. I will do my best to overcome my reluctance. In the meantime, I hope that the $88.97 I owe does not force you to lose any ring tones or permanently end your calls."

I'm pleased to say that while I thought of this response, I didn't write it or pick up the phone (although I came verwy, verwy cwose). My inner asshole has only emerged and dominated two of quite a few challenging conversations, and as unevolved as this may sound, in both cases the recipient got 1) what he deserved and 2) off easy.

But I'm striving to stay conscious and keep the assholian episodes to a minimum--all the while seeing myself with more and more clarity and honoring the joy and sorrow that such clarity brings.

I feel lucky to have Marianela (and some great friends) in my life through this. She sees me at my best and worst and still loves me. Even more impressive: she still likes me. Thanks, esposa.