Russell Lee: Detail of farmer's blue jeans, boots and spurs.
This man was once a cowboy and still prefers the cowboy's dress,
Pie Town, New Mexico (1940) Farm Security Administration

"I expect that I'll always struggle to get in touch with my heart's desire …"

I struggle when responding to anyone asking about my preferences. I was raised to be more sensitive to what others prefer than to my own preferreds, a valuable skill in a family with five kids where neediness easily translated into a form of weakness. I learned early the value indifference brought and the cost neediness wrought. I was rarely considered to be a picky eater. Quite the opposite, I was known for my adventurous palate. My dad "preferred" chicken backs so his kids could feast on the meatier cuts. My mom could turn into a genuine Christian martyr sometimes, denying her personal preference in deference to her kids'.

Making matters worse, when I was in Junior High School, I found an old Victorian text in the local Goodwill book section, “The Kingship of Self-Control.” I took that book to heart. It was a typically high-minded work that elevated denial to a royal level. My adolescent mind found reassurance that I might easily discover salvation by merely denying something. Years of subsequent practice, and I can hardly determine what I prefer, other than denial. I typically have no overwhelmingly strong preference except, perhaps, in matters of taste. When it comes to food and clothing, I have strong preferences and rarely compromise.

I'm pretty easily offended and tend to hold long-lasting grudges. I won't shop at Walmart because I saw the effect their business model had on one of their suppliers, who was promised exclusive access until they became dependent on that business. Then, Walmart began demanding onerous price cuts, which left the supplier cutting staff and benefits, blowing up an otherwise decent place to work. The heartlessness impressed me and prevents me, thirty years later, from casting my shadow across their entryway. I prefer to pay more and avoid overt complicity in such obscenities. I acknowledge that this amounts to a preference rather than a necessity. I could, if I could stand to live with myself, still choose to shop there if I wanted, and truth be told, I've resorted to entering twice since we returned from our exile to a land where Walmart didn't exist. I still feel complicit about those visits.

As I've matured, I've found it easier to insist upon certain Preferences. I remain distant from feeling, in most ways, in touch with that aspect of myself. I still catch myself acting in deference to others' preferences, even if they don't quite match what might be my own, but as I've grown, I've come to know better what I want and, more importantly, what I don't. My early training in The Kingship of Self Control still kicks in when I'm called to insist, and my family of origin still contributes when there's only one piece of pie remaining for two diners. I'll almost always defer to my partner, insisting that I couldn't possibly tolerate even one more bite of what invariably was some tremendous pie. I lie rather than disclose a non-negotiable, thereby enobling myself by denial.

I'm still learning and fine-tuning as I enter my FollowingChapters. What I didn't perfect through earlier iterations, I might come to master, even as a past master of denial. I no longer always feel guilty when I express my preference. I don't always assume responsibility for making it okay for everybody by insisting upon it not being in any way okay for me. Genuine Kingship's tough to outgrow. Almost a lifetime of experience doesn't evaporate in a day, or necessarily ever; it persists. I expect that I'll always struggle to get in touch with my heart's desire after mastering my heart's denial.

©2025 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #FollowingChapters, #PureSchmaltz