I was lost and I was aching and I could not find my way home....

Then I figured, where I am right now, is home.

Thank you Missy, my poetess.

Heh, the topic in chat last night as we saw you drift in and out was how much we all missed your living room, ma'am.

Make it so.

Hey Melissa --

I know I’m going to come across as an asshole here. You – and the idea of your living room – are important enough to me to come across as an asshole. But I’m warning you upfront.

When I read your post, the first thing that popped into my head was the Harry Chapin song “Taxi.” I don’t know whether you remember it, but the gist of it is there is a cab driver who inadvertently picks up an old girlfriend as a fare. They recognize each other, make small talk, and the line goes “whatever we had one was gone,” and I started thinking about the whole idea.

You know how much of a touchstone your place was to me, and others, during the primaries. It was a place where we didn’t have to pick a side, where big ideas disguised as small moments were introduced and at least reflected on if not discussed. And that was critical to this place, because we all needed a place to escape those things that divided us, to be able to remind each other that even though we had differences – serious differences – we all had value. We talked about truth and beauty and love and remembered dogs and anything else, but the discussions were more than they appeared, at least to me. it got me through long nights of crying babies and various heartaches. It was important enough to me that when you took a sabbatical, I tried in vain to keep it going and was delighted when you came back. It was a crucial part of the transformation of TPMC from a message board to a community.

But then the primaries ended, and we were all, fundamentally, on the same side. And then the election ended, and we were all, fundamentally, on the same side. And without the need to really reflect, the conversation changed from talk to chat. That’s okay, I guess, but it wasn’t the same. The unspoken questions from your guests switched from “What to you think?” to “How are you doing?” and that’s important in the world, too, but it wasn’t the same, at least not to me.

Also, there is this. I know how much energy you spent putting together the nightly invitations, or at least I imagine how much. They were smart, witty and thought provoking. You ended every one with a question. But they rarely got responses of the same caliber. Your question was often unanswered. Instead you got one liners and links you can’t use because you’re on dialup. It was like preparing an elegant dinner party, and the guests showing up and asking for pizza instead. Pizza’s good food, but not what you had in mind. While everyone might have been grateful and kind .. well, it wasn’t what you had in mind. That would have frustrated the hell out of me, and I imagine it did to you, too.

One more thing about it, I think it pigeonholed you. I remember reading some flame war where Quinn, I think (and who I admire the hell out of both as a thinker and a writer), tried to explain your role here, explaining your unique place as a place of non-political discourse. I think that’s the way most people see you here. I sort of see you that way here. Which is fine, except when you did make political statements, they seemed almost out of context. Folks didn’t know exactly how to react. If you were attacked, you were defended almost too vigorously. And as neat as it is when people care about you, I imagine it almost felt a little icky. So you kept your political thoughts to yourself, which is hard to do in a political blog.

See, I told you I’d sound assholish.

All that said, I don’t know whether you should start doing it again or not. I miss it. Even when I didn’t like what happened, I still miss it. The babies don’t cry at night as much so I don’t need the escape as much, but I still miss it. So part of me would be grateful for a place to duck in when I needed it, to say hello and pick out a seat on the metaphorical sofa. But I don’t want you to be frustrated with it, either, and I fear that would inevitably happen. So there you go – 700 or so words and no advice. Who would have thunk it?

I do want to add this, though. Harry Chapin wrote a sequel to “Taxi” called “Sequel.” In it, Harry and Sue do reconnect, kiss, cry, (maybe screw, he says not to ask) and talk about how their lives had changed, and that they should stay in touch – that maybe what was once there doesn’t have to be gone forever. And if anyone could recreate it, beautiful, it would be you.

Matt

You know, it was just a few days ago I was wondering if you had wandered away. It's like you show up, do a good deed, and you're gone again.

I miss the living room. I visited often. Only spoke up a few times. But, it was nice there and it felt good.

Which is kinda weird in a way, when one stops to think about it.

So, if you open up your living room, I will drop by. And, I promise to leave a calling card of some kind.