Can't Think Why

When you know exactly why. Or think you do.

“The man who walks down the street yelling with his dog just yelled, ‘I haven’t had a woman in years.’ Can’t think why,” I texted a friend.

I was getting my oil changed at the Israeli mechanic’s shop, attempting to both get my oil changed and support an Israeli-owned business. My friend the Penn rabbi recommended the shop. It’s good to have a relationship with an auto mechanic when you drive a very old car.

While they were ordering a filter because my car is so old apparently it needed a special one, I wandered around a bit, grabbing coffee at a spot where I often stop, witnessing the usuals of the neighborhood. The guy who walks around yelling… it’s common. It starts to wear on you. For those of you who have not lived with urban poverty, I do not recommend it. You may want to be compassionate, you may want to care, but the day in and day out being accosted by people who just don’t seem safe is trying.

So I texted a friend, “Can’t think why” the guy I see walking around with a dog and screaming or singing loudly in the street hasn’t had a woman in years because I actually can think why.

As a writer, I’m interested in expressions, both those that are underused and those that are overused. “Can’t think why” is somewhere in between.

Everyone knows what it means. It means we know why.

One of my favorite uses of “Can’t think why” is in the musical Evita, where Che says, “They equate Peron with Mussolini, can’t think why.”

We can think why.

In The Last Jedi when Rey shoots the walls of her stone cabin shooting at Ren’s force form (or whatever it should be called) and then the natives who care for the island are angry, she says, “I don’t think they like me.” Luke replies, “Can’t think why.”

The fact of the matter is that we think we know why. But are we always right?

We couldn’t get very far in life without assumptions. We wouldn’t even know if it was safe to get out of bed in the morning, or to stay in bed in the morning, or that it was morning, if we didn’t make certain basic assumptions. I can walk to the bathroom safely. I can feed my cat and she is hungry or at least wants food. I will shower, do yoga, meditate, get dressed for work, go to work. Things will be fine. Enough.

Living in a chaotic environment for too long, or when you are young, or both, can make it hard for you to trust in the assumptions that make “normal” life possible. I tend to anticipate the worst case scenario, which is highly functional in a chaotic environment and terrible practice when you actually are starting to build a nice life.

In 2009 I wrote a play that we got into the Philadelphia Fringe Festival. It was called Discordia, and it was a riff off the story of the Trojan War. The first line was, “You have to start from the assumption that everyone has the best of intentions.”

I try to start each day with two things that run counter to my habitual nature: 1) Being open to possibilities 2) Assuming that everyone has the best of intentions.

In The Acolyte, everyone has the best of intentions. Yet the very sad most recent episode shows us that things can sometimes go terribly wrong.

Sometimes it’s hard to believe that others’ have the best of intentions. Can’t think why.

Yet time and again I’ve come out of dark places only to find brand new lights on the other side of what seemed like an impossible to cross river.

My worldwide family is a giant bright light. When I texted my rabbi friend that I was at the Israeli mechanic’s, he texted me back that some Israelis who just finished their IDF service are visiting here for a few weeks and coming to dinner next week - would I like to come? So I’ll be having dinner with some Israelis! Not Shabbat dinner, but Thursday night dinner. I am very excited.

Tonight I’m having Shabbat dinner with one of my oldest friends in town. He doesn’t cook and lives far out in the suburbs but he’s taking me out for dinner, having seen my plea that someone invite me to Shabbat dinner after services.

I have been so welcomed by my worldwide family. I never saw that coming. A year ago today… I never would have imagined what has transpired. And yet there were hints. The dominoes were in place, ready to be tipped.

Can’t think why.

“After the Rain Has Fallen” song by Sting, picture by me.