Peeing with Pride.

I have a 4x6 photo of Albert Einstein displayed in a frame on my bathroom sink. Oftentimes, when I visit the loo, staring into this picture is the only thing that will encourage me past a strange psychological barrier: Occasionally, I'm unable to pee. Everyone Pees, of course, but sometimes when the critical moment approaches, I'll have many thoughts spinning in my mind, things become skewed and all-out-of-focus. I sometimes stand in place forever.

Once, in 1983 when I was on a long car trip with my mother, father, sister, grandmother and grandfather in a silver Granada with a maroon vinyl top, I caused a scene. This might be where my pee problem began. We were driving to the Reading Outlets to outfit ourselves in Lee jeans and Frye Boots at a huge savings since they were factory-direct, and this meant a 3 hour drive. At some point, everyone must have mutually agreed to stop for a pee break where I remember my Father barking at me to hurry up. I wasn't able to muster any pee during that pee break, but I also didn't know what to do because I really did have a terrible urge. He insisted that I make things quick so he could get us back on the road. I finally decided to just hold it in until we arrived at our destination, but about 20 minutes later, I couldn't stand it any longer, so I asked them to pull the car over again, and I really got yelled at this time. Begrudgingly, my Father found a rest area, but there were no facilities. He said, "too bad," and told me to get out of the car, stand by the sidewalk and aim my pee into the grass as mother sister grandmother and grandfather were a scant 2 feet away from me in the car, and I was sure they were watching. I didn't dare search for eye contact with any of them because I felt like $.02. I really tried hard to pee, but I just couldn't and I got yelled at and told to act like a man. I developed recurring fantasies of being rescued from my family because of that night.

I recently got a new frame for my picture of Albert Einstein in the bathroom. Not one single visitor has asked me why I keep it next to my toilet. I suppose too, if my billfold were ever stolen, the thief shouldn't wonder about a wallet-sized portrait of Albert (tucked behind my Bloomingdale's card) which is put to good use at noisy bars and crowded sports arenas.