The Oppression of Focusing on Other People’s Needs

It’s a struggle to remain an adult all! Week! Long!

---

Hi all — filling in again. For more of me me me, I’m here, and A.J. will be back next week. —Ben Gaffaney

*****

Last week, me and my seven-year-old (J) visited my parents in Arizona. From the start, I was a little on edge, due to the work of wrangling J, some nervousness about the potential for political talk, and the exhaustion of chit-chat to come. I’m so accustomed to having complete control over my free time, I worried I’d be churlish and adolescent, huffing like Napoleon Dynamite over something small.

Our first flight rolled in a little late, leaving us 20 minutes to make our connection, which just meant we were the last ones on the flight. J’s window seat was occupied by a young woman with curly hair and an N95 mask; a 20-ish man sat in the aisle seat, looking at her with silent intensity, like they’d just had a serious talk. When I explained this was our row, he looked at me with these Pixar eyes, mumbled “Go ahead,” and headed to his seat, wherever that was. I decided not to nudge the woman away from the window to her assigned aisle seat. It was lucky for me — I’m an aisle guy.