Teller was married once, in his twenties, for ten years. Since then, he has had two other, more-significant couplings; he counts both Leigh and Katrina among his “great loves.” While other, shorter-term relationships have come and gone, the losses of these three have affected Teller the most profoundly.

Teller genuinely likes women. Even when they aren’t his lovers, members of the female gender comprise most of the individuals he counts as friends. Women of all kinds, shapes, sizes, interests and orientations seem to be attracted to Teller for one reason or another. He suspects that women can get from him what they find generally lacking in other males: the ability to really listen, understand and be present. Despite this, though, one of his women friends, at one point in his life, informed Teller that it was her opinion it was these very qualities that eventually kept women away. “Women always say that they want their significant other to express feelings and really be present, but when it comes the time that they actually find somebody like that, they don’t know how to handle it. Teller, you can be so present it’s scary. Yes, I think that’s why you’re alone,” she said. “You don’t fit into any model of any man they’ve known before.”

So, here Teller is, now in his sixties, still trying to understand his life. He’s trying to figure women out, and find an explanation for why he’s neither in a relationship nor been able to sustain one.

Right now he’s thinking about Mona. Mona lives in another part of the state, but was visiting Teller Territory a couple of years ago, around Thanksgiving (November 2008), to celebrate the holiday with her parents. Teller and Mona happened to find themselves at neighboring tables in a local Starbucks one afternoon, and they struck up a conversation. Mona initiated with a comment about Teller’s laptop computer, but it ended up to be an intense, three-hour dialog about various, intimate aspects of each of their lives. They ultimately exchanged contact information but, then, Mona drove home the next day. While Teller did follow up with an email, there was no response from her, other than a belated reply to remind Teller that she was very busy, living with someone else, and was a long way away (with no chance of ever living in Teller Territory).

However, Teller has had, just recently, further contact with Mona. She is no longer in relationship, and was again visiting her parents in Teller Territory last week. She was the one who initiated contact, and they ended up spending about 12 hours together (in person and on the phone), over the course of two days, engaged in deep conversation about their lives.

Now, she’s gone again: off to lead her solitary life. In Mona Territory.

This weekend, as the streets of Madison, Wisconsin, are filled with protestors, signs and boisterous chanting (aimed at a lunatic Governor who took office less than two months ago), Teller is reminded of another time of civil unrest there: the Vietnam War era. The University of Wisconsin-Madison, in the 1960s, was affectionately called “The Berkeley of the Midwest,” due to its reputation as a center for anti-war activism. Teller lived in northern Wisconsin at the time, attended college at one of the state’s regional four-year institutions, and participated in the milder and more-modest protests on his home campus.

In a weird sort of way, Teller remembers the Sixties as the worst of times and the best of times. It was the worst because there was the constant threat of the draft -- and the probability of severe injury or death while fighting in an illegal and unjust war. It was the best because there was never a dull moment. The country was hyper-alive, on the edge of revolution, and campuses were where the action was.

No, there really wasn’t anything quite like being a college student in the Sixties.

From 1965 to 1969, Teller was a full-time undergraduate, maintaining his 2-S draft-deferment status and, hence, his ability to keep himself out of uniform and harm’s way. However, that wouldn’t last forever. In late May of 1969, Teller had just finished his fourth year of studies, twelve semester-credits short of graduating.  By that time, the drum beating of the Selective Service System had been pounding in his ears for months: all anyone got before they had to relinquish their 2-S status was four years of college attendance, no matter the outcome.

Early in1969, Teller had been summoned for his draft physical, traveling to Minneapolis to undergo the experience of being marched, with hundreds of others, cattle-like, through the examination process. Despite the medical file that Teller had generated, and continually updated, at his local draft board, he passed his physical. Before the semester ended, he had received his 1-A classification card. And three weeks to the day after his last final exam, June 18, 1969, his draft notice appeared in his mailbox.

“Greetings,” it said.

Isn’t it interesting what memories can be brought back, right here in 2011, by these stirring images from Madison on the TV news?

Teller and Katrina first met in late 1997. The relationship they subsequently established could most accurately be described as “on-again, off-again.” It was a chaotic experience that occasionally drove Teller right to the edge of his ability to cope. However, despite everything, he believed himself to be totally invested in, and committed to, the relationship; Katrina was almost always ambivalent about it.

Still, the unpredictable nature of the union did not stop Teller from loving Katrina completely. And, along with Katrina, came the matter of her three kids. In 1997, Tamson, the oldest, was 20 years old and was no longer living at home; Beccalynn, the girl, had just turned 17; and Bryan, the “baby” of the family, was 13. The younger two were living part-time with Katrina and part-time with their father.

That Katrina loved her offspring utterly and completely was undeniable. And, though, at the time Teller met her, Katrina was still struggling with her ex-husband’s sexual-orientation announcement (the turning point that had doomed their marriage), and Beccalynn was exhibiting a number of typical, adolescent, acting-out behaviors, it was evident that all of them were still a family that cared deeply about one another.

If all the world’s a stage, then, it was on this set, within this particular family-in-transition, that Teller found himself a player.

And so it came to pass, Teller ended up not only being in love with Katrina, but also with Tamson, Beccalynn and Bryan. It was a package deal, or so it seemed. It wasn’t ever a matter of Katrina saying, “love me, love my family,” however. No such suggestion or demand was ever made or needed. To Teller, these people, all of them, were, simply, lovable. Teller couldn’t help himself. The sense of family and community he found with Katrina and the kids was unparalleled in his life. He had never experienced such inclusion and warmth, and once he was a part of it, he could not imagine his life, ever again, without this feeling.

Teller had told Katrina early on that he believed the best chance for success, for his insertion into this cast of characters, was to establish direct (i.e., not mediated by Katrina) relationships with each of the kids. He had “studied” step-parenting dynamics while in a previous relationship, and understood that this approach was likely to yield the most healthy result. And so that is what he did: little-by-little, he inched emotionally closer to each of them individually and, additionally, allowed tons of space for them to move in his direction.

For whatever it was that Teller did “right,” and for whatever other cosmic forces aligned to make it possible, Teller did, indeed, establish successful, loving relationships with each of the kids. In his heart, he adopted all three of them. There was nothing legal about the adoption, of course…it was an off-the-record, in-Teller’s-heart-and-mind, secret emotional adoption. Teller ultimately referred to Tamson, Beccalynn and Bryan, privately, as “the kids he never had.”

He embraced their presence in his life, totally and without reservation. And there never seemed to be any Katrina-like ambivalence on the part of the kids about their individual relationships with Teller. So, when it finally became evident to Teller that there was no future in his relationship with Katrina, he vowed to stay as available to each of the kids as they might desire.

And, the kids have wanted Teller to be around. He has been invited to, and attended, all three of their weddings, the most recent one (Bryan’s) in November (2010). And Beccalynn, just last week, sent Teller a note informing him of her involvement in a photography class…and how much she was learning.

Still, it was with utter amazement that Teller opened up his email two days ago and found this wholly-unexpected message from Katrina (who is now re-married and a step-parent to a young girl named Charlie…):

hi teller-

in these weeks of living-in step-mothering (since we moved into our house in december, charlie is now in my life half time, just as she always has been with her father), i’m understanding more and more the complexity of step-parenting, and what it takes to fulfill this role. charlie is a real dearheart and i enjoy her very much. nonetheless, my life has changed and it’s not always easy! i’ve been reflecting upon how thankful I am that you were so interested in my kids and appreciating with now-more-aware eyes some of the complexity you may have experienced in all of it. i’ve always appreciated this about you, but want to call it forward again and recognize again how you put your heart into them and into that role despite all of the challenges. i have not forgotten, nor will i.  thank you, jacobadam. 

warmly-
katrina

Upon reading these words, Teller’s eyes opened wide, then moistened, with the tears finally streaming down. His heart was both heavy with loss, open with love.

Oh, how he misses Tamson, Beccalynn and Bryan. And, of course, Katrina.

For two days he read this note again and again. And the tears welled up every time, even as he, finally, dragged the message into the folder labeled “family.”

Teller has been an academic dean for several years now, and is three-and-a-half years into this position on his current campus. Among other descriptors, the job is large, unwieldy, and unpredictable. He is spending the weekend enjoying some down time before embarking on yet another challenging 17-week marathon, this one called “Spring Semester.” It starts all over again on Monday. Getting a new term off the ground is always an arduous task and he admits to feeling drained before the real work even commences.

One of the reasons for the fatigue factor being especially prominent right now is the stress associated with last week’s events. During the middle of the week, Teller had cancelled a low-enrolled class in one of the physical-science disciplines. He had made the cancellation decision in consultation with the instructor and department chair; after ensuring that the affected students were informed of an alternative, he assumed the matter was settled. Then, on Friday, entirely out-of-the-blue, he endured an attack from the head of the counseling department, who accused him, because of his action, of not only being insensitive to students’ needs but also in violation of the collective-bargaining agreement. A certain amount of pandemonium ensued while he attempted to explain the situation to his new supervisor (an interim Vice President on the job for a mere two weeks). Teller ultimately succumbed to the demands being made on him and reinstated the class, which will now run with even fewer students. He sees this as a squandering of scarce resources, but realizes that the politics of the situation, not common sense, drove the so-called “solution.”

So, here he is, during the weekend, when his batteries are supposed to be re-charging, attending to a multitude of personal issues and tasks. He’s not feeling even one little bit like he’s getting any positive energy back, for one of the items on his agenda is the also-stressful process of completing an employment application.

Now, Teller isn’t really engaged in what could be termed an active job search. Still, he believes he needs to be keeping his eyes open for potential new opportunities. The top-level leadership of his institution has just changed hands (the interim VP was hired by the entirely-new campus chief executive), and, really, there’s no telling what could happen. It isn’t at all unusual for a new president to come in, scope out the place, and decide there’s a need for some significant shuffling. So, what with a campus culture characterized by rampant conflict and lack-of-trust, multitudinous unhappy students and faculty, and the recent changing-of-the-guard at the top, Teller’s life continues to be an unstable one.

Perhaps the faculty position he just applied for up in Portlandia is exactly what he needs in order to restore some balance back into his life.