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Monday, June 27, 2011

The Women We've Become



Eleven of my sorority sisters and I are back on campus at De Pauw University in Greencastle, Indiana for our forty-fifth reunion, staying in a dorm where we’re crammed two to a tiny room and the bathroom is a long walk down the hall. We’re wondering how we lived that way for four years. We’ve come from all over North America, and for some of us it’s been decades since we’ve seen each other. Still, the conversation is non-stop and the memories flood in. It’s as if we never left campus.

One of us tells of overhearing a woman from a class younger than ours say to her college girlfriends, “I really love the women we’ve become.” We all nod in agreement. We feel that way, too. And it makes me think about who we were, what was expected of us and the paths we ended up taking.

Our school was small and friendly and provided a sheltered environment in which we could first try our wings away from home. It was a place steeped in tradition and we were traditional girls from solid, mostly Midwestern families. When we entered college in the fall of 1962, we were girls on the verge of discovering who we were, who we were going to become.

We have been on the cusp pretty much all our lives. We were on the cusp of the baby boom, not technically a part of it, but the forerunners, the ones born just before the wave of post war births began. Ahead of the trend – that’s what our generation has been.

We were on the cusp of women’s lib, too. In our day girls went to college to find a husband. Failing that, they became teachers, nurses or secretaries. We became all those things and more, because even though the envelope of discrimination against women in the workplace was sealed pretty tight, we were starting to poke at it, looking for spots where the glue on the flap had worn thin so we could slip through to forbidden territory. We still became teachers and nurses and secretaries, but we also grew into administrators, artists, writers, and experts in special education, orchids, native flora and fauna. We became designers, business owners, college professors, bankers, fundraisers and tireless volunteers. We followed tradition and became wives, mothers and grandmothers, too. But we are also world travelers thirsty for knowledge of our planet and the people who inhabit it. We are involved, curious, always seeking to expand our horizons, learning something new and enjoying every minute.

We were on the cusp of the civil rights movement, too. And in our protected little corner of the world we innocently thought it would be a simple thing to invite a black college student from a Southern university to live in our sorority house for a semester or a year. What could be wrong with that? Plenty, according to the national sorority president, who came to scold us for our outrageous behavior, shaking her finger at us. That wasn’t what the sorority was about the president said. The black girl wasn’t one of us, couldn’t possibly live with us. There were rules, she said, and we must follow them. She put us on probation. But to us, the sorority was about the bond of friendship we had, not some exclusionary set of rules. We only wanted to share that friendship. Rather than breaking our spirit, the experience brought us closer together, made us value each other even more. We became more tolerant, more inclusive.

On the cusp. On the verge. Right before. Ahead of time. On the leading edge. That is where we’ve lived our lives as wave after wave of change has washed over our world. We’re there now, too, as we have passed 65 and head toward 70. We’re a new kind of sixty-something. We’re still exploring, still learning, still pushing the envelope instead of retiring to a front porch rocker.

At the reunion we talk about our lives now and how we were in college. We laugh over old times and cry over losses and illness. We have somber conversations about those in our graduating class who are gone and we’re thankful it’s none of us yet. So we celebrate each other and our friendship that has persisted through nearly fifty years and vast geographical separation. We hit the dance floor with the kids from the Class of 2006 who are forty years our junior, and we all rock out to “We are Family”.

A young man from the Class of 2006 taps me on the shoulder and asks what class we are.

“1966,” I say proudly.

“Wow,” he says with a big smile. “You guys are awesome!”

I look around at my sisters, smiling, vibrant, dancing with abandon.

“Yes we are,” I say.



Copyright 2011 by Liz Zuercher

Monday, June 13, 2011

The Nerve of Some People

It was morning in the ‘Big Apple.’ A few guests staying at the narrow brick hotel that took up a tiny corner in Soho were checking out in order to get back to their ordinary lives. They had just spent a few rainy days lauding in the extraordinary graduations of their offspring who now had to get on with their new abnormal lives – lives with no tests, no classes, no library visits – lives that were going to require job searches and stressors that were never there before. Lives in which they would have to successfully ignore the news of high unemployment, financial woes, and rising costs if they were to find the promised American Dream. Find your passion intoned Bill Clinton, but many would just like to find a job that would allow them to stay in this outrageously expensive city.

Some hotel guests were leaving for home, and some just going out to begin their finally rain-free day’s adventures. And then there was the young, black suited, diamond earringed business woman who looked over to the TV and announced in a loud, syrupy, pretending to be nonchalant voice “Oh, I know those newscasters.”

No one looked particularly impressed, though to a person each looked at the TV where a group of CNN reporters were singing happy birthday to a colleague who had just completed a story about the proclaimed end of the world day which was just a few days off, and was also her birthday. One of the onlookers advised celebrating her birthday early, but the yellow tee-shirt clad proselytizer told her she’d be better off praying.

“Where is your business center?” diamond earrings interrupted. Roger, the desk agent, an apologetic look in his eyes, glanced from the guest he was helping to the woman. “I’m sorry, we don’t have one,” he said softly and considerately. As she tried to continue, he said gently, “I’m sorry, could you please wait just a teeny moment until I finish helping this gentleman?”

She nodded and her eyes went back to her colleagues on the television.

Roger went back to his previous interaction with the distinguished looking gentleman and his slight, well coiffed wife who were leaving for home several states away after their son’s graduation from New York University’s unique Gallatin School. The school where each student devises his or her own major. One student had even graduated with a degree in ‘Evil.’

There were still a few guests waiting to be served, but as the couple turned to walk down the stairs, Diamond Earrings interrupted again. “Could you just print out a few things for me? I have a meeting, I’m running…”

“Ma’am, I would be more than happy to help you, but these guests were here first. I want to thank you in advance for patiently waiting your turn. Just a few more minutes, okay?”

Exasperated she conceded. She looked at her watch every twenty seconds and sized up the people in line to decide if they deserved to be helped before her. She tapped her toe against the marble floor and her briefcase bounced against her leg as she sighed so that everyone could hear.

“Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Rassmonson, we hope you come back to see us soon.”

“Oh yes, twittered Mrs. Rassomonson. We had a wonderful stay. Roger you and Mary were terribly nice and we so appreciate everything you did for us.”

Diamond Earrings, face turned away, was mouthing ‘yak yak yak,’ and rolling her eyes. ‘Hurry up’ she mouthed at the window. She looked at the poorly dressed woman sitting on the couch and working on her computer and rolled her eyes thinking – ‘a tie dyed tee-shirt on an old person. Where does she think she is, California?!’

After helping the last undeserving customer, Diamond Earrings sighed and leaned against the desk. “Now can you help me?”

“Certainly, what is it you need?”

“I need to have some papers printed out before my meeting.”

“Could you e-mail them to me?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said in a relieved voice. “That would be fine.”

“What room are you in?” Roger asked.

“Um, well, I’m not a guest here.” But my friend is,” she added quickly.

“Well we can’t do…” he began to say but then changed his mind. “What room is your friend in?” asked Roger.

“I don’t know, and she’s not answering her phone,” said Diamond Earrings as again made a show of dialing her phone and listening.

“What is your friend’s name?” he asked politely wearing his professional smile.

“Jennifer.” She said, “Jennifer Smith.”

“Smith, he repeated as he looked through his registration file, Jennifer Smith,” He scrolled through the names several times, taking his time and then looked up sadly at Diamond Earrings. “I’m so sorry,” he said with a sigh, “but I don’t seem to have a Jennifer Smith staying with us at this time.”

“Well, she’s famous and she probably used an alias to check in.”

“Do you know what that alias might be?” he asked.

“How would I know her alias?”

Tie Dye woman, mouthed to her computer “if she’s your friend, wouldn’t she have told you her alias?”

Roger tried to suppress a smile as he responded to Diamond Earrings. He was very good at lip reading. “I’m truly sorry, but I just can’t help you. We are not set up as a formal business services office and our business services are reserved for our hotel guests. If I accommodated everyone who came in and asked for business service assistance I would not have time to help our own guests.”

“Well, you don’t seem very busy this second.” she observed coolly looking around at the one other person who was waiting patiently behind her and tapping something into her cell phone.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t.” Roger called Cell Phone Tapper forward as diamond earrings looked at the tie dyed tee-shirt lady. “Excuse me, are you a guest here?” she asked sweetly.

“Umhum.” The woman responded not looking up from her keyboard.

“Listen,” diamond earrings asked turning so that her back was completely facing Roger and glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was busy with the other woman. “Could I e-mail you a document and ask you to have him print it?”

From behind Diamond Earring’s back Tie Dyed woman could see Rogers’ eyes widen as his lips pursed and his forehead wrinkled. He frantically shook his head ‘no.’.

Tie Dyed smiled at Diamond Earrings and said, “I’m sorry, I just can’t.” At the woman’s intense gaze she added, “I don’t have an internet connection.”

Diamond Earrings looked around as if she were surveying a slum and confronted Desk Clerk. “I need to know your name, the name of the hotel manager, and the phone number here,” she snapped.

Desk Clerk picked up a business card and handed it to her with a smile. “He’ll be here after four today.” Diamond Earrings grabbed the card, looked at Desk Clerk’s name badge, wrote something on the back of the card, did a crisp military-like turn, and walked out, her three inch heals clicking furiously on the marble stairs.

The room was empty except for Tie Dyed and Desk Clerk, and they both listened to her storm out. When he heard the electronic front doors Desk Clerk said, under his breath, “She’s going to try and get me fired, the bitch.”

Tie Dyed laughed and Desk Clerk smiled a conspiratorial smile. Tie Dyed smiled and said “She really was a bitch.”

“I have a lobby full of guests and she wants me to print shit out for her. And her friend is NOT a guest here,” he with disgust. “The nerve of some people!” “You just wouldn’t believe what people try to get away with. And they always say their friend’s name is Jennifer Smith.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, Jennifer Smith. Don’t know what it is… You know, if I helped everyone who walked in here I’d have no toner, no paper. Well, we just can’t do that. We aren’t a big hotel, we don’t have the resources to help everyone in New York, but I’d be more than happy to print out anything you wanted. You’re in room 105, my favorite room. After a pause he added slyly, “And you DO have an internet connection, I gave you the password when you checked in – very clever rouse. I’ll bet she was staring bullets at you,” he sighed, “one is just forced to lie to people like her. But we’re not all like that you know.”

Tie Dyed shook her head. “No, you aren’t. Everyone I’ve encountered this trip has been very nice. I think New Yorkers get a bad rap.”

“You know,” said Desk Clerk, “I find that people here have become nicer since 9-11.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes, absolutely. Much nicer. Most people anyway. Thank you for not helping Miss Diamond Earrings. Probably the only real thing about her. I saw how she looked at you. I don’t think she approved of your shirt and sweat pants.”

The middle aged woman sighed, “I really don’t understand this new generation of young men and women who feel like the world owes them. Where do they get off?”

“Hmph,” responded Desk Clerk. “I’d love to be able to tell her where to get off, but then I really would lose my job, even if she isn’t a guest.” He sighed, “Well… I’m sure she’s going to try and get my boss to fire me. She won’t be the first, and certainly not the last. They love me here. They’ll never fire me.”

Tie Dyed laughed. “And I love you too Roger. Because of you, I would definitely stay here again.”

He gave her a cute closed mouthed smile and a wink. “By the way, I love your tie-dye.” He said as he walked from behind the counter and lifted up his pant leg showing her tie-dyed socks.

It was now her turn to give a wink and a smile.

Monday, June 6, 2011

Closing Time

by Susan Cameron

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.

-- from "Closing Time" by Semisonic


Please excuse me for not leading off with a quote from Plutarch or Nietzsche; I have a head full of pop music lyrics, and the one above is a favorite.

That line has a particular resonance for me lately because of the accelerating pace of endings in my life and the lives of my friends. Three of us have had mothers die this past year, which is sad; but all three were difficult people who made life difficult for those around them, and their dying was not only inevitable, but in many ways a relief.

I did feel a pang in my chest when I opened my stationery box, saw that I was out of note cards, and realized it didn't matter -- I only mailed them to my mother, and she wasn't there any more. The twinge passed quickly, because I knew death was the friend who took my mother by the hand and left her Alzheimer's behind. I like to imagine death escorting her to a lounge in the afterlife filled with kindred spirits, all pretty and thirtyish again, drinking highballs, smoking Salems, laughing with each other and flirting with the piano player.

There's no soft way to point out that her death did not alter the fabric of my life, as cold as that sounds. There were two thousand miles insulating me from the day-to-day grind of dealing with her and caring for her. But, since I did apparently inherit some sort of caretaker gene, I spent an increasing and inordinate amount of time watching over and caring for a dear old friend who slid into dementia over the past year or two. It was time to call his adult children, and they turned him over to health care professionals. There are pangs at the finality of closing files and tidying up the last loose ends, but the sadness I feel at my buddy's predicament doesn't change the fact that I've got big swaths of my own time back.

And there it is: new beginnings coming from endings. My cat died months ago; now I've got my buddy's wonderful dog. I sold my business; now we have time to go traveling in our truck and camper. Tomorrow's my last day teaching Longevity Stick exercises; next week I'll start sending my elderly students postcards from the road, and they'll enjoy that too. Something is finished, and there is end-of-an-era wistfulness; but another thing begins, filling the space that had to empty out to make room for it.

Carly Simon had a huge hit, "Anticipation," as I was graduating from high school. The truth of the chorus, "These are the good old days," made me catch my breath as I stood in the doorway between one phase of life and another. But I think I'll give Green Day the last word:



Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
So make the best of this test, and don't ask why
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.
-- from "Good Riddance" (Time of your Life), by Green Day

Copyright 2011, Susan Cameron