The pond stretched before them like an endless ice rink, almost a thousand acres of frozen surface on this cold February week of New England winter.
There were four of them, old friends, beginning a walk across the ice. They had met in college, were now in their late 50s, and wondered how so much time could have gone by. This was their 10th year meeting at a home one of them owned near the Massachusetts shore. Two lived within driving range, but one flew in from New Jersey, and another from San Francisco. They called it their Men's Weekend.
The far shore of the pond bordered on the ocean. It was a mile's walk to the barrier beach, and they tested the thickness of the ice as they went.
In earlier years, their post-college get-togethers had been more casual, meeting here and there for good times as young single adults. Eventually, each had weddings, life-altering milestones for males who formed their bond as imbeciles in dorms. Over time, some found deep meaning in becoming distant uncles to another's children.
They had started the Men's Weekend 10 years before, in their 40s, thinking at first it would be a one-time get-together, but they kept coming back. Their journeys had not all turned out as they hoped, and they found comfort in this annual time to check in. It was a place they could discuss things hard to talk about even at home -- perhaps especially there.
Society, they had come to see, does not make it easy for men to share their hearts with each other, but these four had stumbled on a model for doing it. As each had issues in their lives, one of them talked about a male workshop staged every few months around the country to help men in crisis. At separate times and places, all four friends attended it. At least one of them, not being a touchy-feely type, at first resisted, but he came to see it wasn't about that. A hundred or so men gathered at a wilderness setting and soon split into groups that had each man step into the center to be dramatically called to account. If a man, for example, said his adult daughter had become estranged from him, but he'd accepted it, there were no gentle prompts to be more honest. He was told, often with epithets, to quit wasting everyone's time and own up.
In a more low-key way, that's what the four were now continuing each year.
It was a freezing day, in the teens, and a brisk wind came off the ocean, past the barrier beach, sending snow across the surface of the blue-green ice. They walked by scrub oak that lined the shores of the cove where the house sat, and were soon crossing the more open part of the ice. In the distance, the beach grass whipped back and forth.
Being men, their professions were a deep part of who they were, and they talked about that as they walked. There had been years when the careers of one or another were not going well, and it took away their sense of self. Sometimes, it was hard to share that with their wives, but they could tell each other. They talked of money, too. It's another taboo subject and men have few places to discuss their fears about it, but the Men's Weekend was such a place. They agreed they often felt alone in their struggle to support their families. When they were unable to pay for all the vacations and dreams they had hoped to afford, they felt like failures.
Mostly, though, there was one primary subject -- an area that is thought to be the fixation of women, but in fact is more at the core of men's lives than most realize: the challenges of marriage.
Two of them had been left by their wives years before, and as much as anything, that is what the weekends were about, helping one another navigate their relationships.
After years of being alone, the two had both recently found new people, but there had been many difficult years, with mid-life dating being an unsatisfying, confusing voyage. Both felt this February was their most stable in a while, with their children moving into college or beyond.
At last, they were past the tricky custody years, and yet they spoke still of those wounds. One remembered the fear he felt when the court order said he would only see his daughters Wednesday nights and every other weekend; and the even greater fear of seeing a new man come into his ex's life perhaps to encroach on his own role as father.
For all four, there had been countless hours on such matters. It occurred to them that a hidden reality of many men, perhaps even most, is the struggle to hold onto marriage, and how hard it can be to do so.
They reached the barrier and crossed over it to the water side. The ocean wind was twice as chilling as on the pond. It was freezing, but clarifying.
They moved on to chatting about their kids' sports teams, and news about mutual friends. They talked about hitting up the grocery store; maybe they'd grill steaks that night, and perhaps, when they returned now to the house, throw around a football.
Soon, they started back across the vast ice for home. It was hard to tell which sections were safe -- one remarked that what seemed the most solid parts can surprise you -- so they tested it as they went.
The following morning, it would be time to leave.
They knew by now they could not predict how the year would unfold, except they were sure they would be back on the pond next February.
(mpatinkin(at)projo.com.)
(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service, www.scrippsnews.com.)
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