Wed. Dec. 13, 2006 "Class distinction"

[Theodora]

Hello again...

I've had a "different" sort of day, being at least partially "productive," but have awakened from a nap to find myself musing on what felt like some strange interaction at last Sunday's concert, where my husband and I saw some "old friends"...so-called. The woman I'm thinking about is really a dear soul and I have a lot of admiration for her. To set the stage, she and my husband were colleagues as professional librarians when we first moved to this state, he fresh from library school, I as an "ABD"-- "all-but-dissertation" in a Ph.D. program, but holding a Master's degree of my own in French. I was hired as a library assistant and had various jobs in this university library, until I quit to become a mother.....and that, folks, was the end of my "career." It was a curious kind of position to be in....no doubt there were and ARE "class distinctions" in the library world---or, at least, THAT library world! And yet, as the wife of a librarian, I had somewhat more freedom to interact with the "professionals" than I might have had otherwise. HOWEVER, the next chapter left my husband in somewhat more embarrassing circumstances, since he wasn't granted tenure and had a time of being unemployed, until he was hired at his present job at our public library. Therefore....who knows WHAT "people are thinking" when they meet up with us "after all these years!"

Be that as it may....I found that I was getting into a bit of a "funk" about this little "scene," so I thought I'd see if it would help to write about it. Herewith, FWIW, are my reflections as they emerged....Read at leisure..or not. See below. If "lessons are to be learned" in the present, perhaps it is the on-going reminder NOT to see people as defined by their roles, but to try to glimpse who people REALLY are behind their roles and the "masks" that they wear.

Grace and peace to you all this day....and thanks for "listening!"

Theodora

---

"Once upon a time..."

for thus do all such tales begin...

"Once upon a time..."

When I was young,

or at least younger than I am now...

Can you imagine that, dear child?

Once upon a time, I took a job,

I took a job which helped to pay the rent.

I took a job which helped to buy me food.

I did not think that I had sold my soul

When, once upon a time,

I took a job.

I took a job, thinking that one day,

ONE day, I would find the profession

that also might allow me honor,

that also might allow me dignity,

that might allow me to call you "friend,"

you whose employment put you in a different realm.


And years have passed and contacts lessen and now,

with all hope gone of ever having "that kind" of

honor, of "prestige," of dignity,

we meet again and across the aisle

make half-hearted efforts to find the social words.

"How is your young lady?"

"Oh fine....a senior now...."

The pause, the silence...your former colleague waiting

non-too-patiently, as it seemed, for my intrusion to be gone.


Yet--somewhere behind the masks we both now wear,

somewhere the eyes still shine through and I wonder...

wonder still whether true friendship might be possible,

were it not for "once upon a time."

How is it that we become so defined by what we do?

Who is it that you see in me, now aged with not much grace,

and walking with a cane?


If one fine day, we met to hear a talk, or shared a common

joy at learning something new, or seeing something fine,

would we THEN find a way to build a friendship anew?

Do you care to know all that bubbles forth in anguish from my soul,

cut off from society, cut off from "meaning," alone with my thoughts?

Can you imagine that I too have been nurtured by the arts,

have felt my way along the intricate pathways of another's thoughts

and been enlivened by the search?


But no...we meet, we pass in a small moment in time, our eyes meet

for that brief nano-second...

and we turn to go our separate ways,

somewhere between "acquaintance" and friends,

an uncomfortable limbo of unmet expectation.


Defined by ancient roles, locked into old perceptions,

perhaps Rousseau was right...we ARE "in chains"---

though still the inner voice protests:

"YOU DO NOT KNOW....I am MORE than this ancient slave

to bureaucratic needs."


Perhaps...perhaps...one day....???

But no...We "know our place," don't we?

Even now, even outside the work wherein our pathways crossed,

We must not act nor talk as equals.


I grieve the loss.

Do you?