2003-10-22 - 8:26 p.m.
I leaned my back on the wall protected by my bony hand and ate my banana like nothing was happening, like I was not watching you pack up to say another farewell, my love. My heart was already setting, hard-like, to ward the final blow and prepare for the few days of brushing away your lingering spirit. So I watched, just me and myself an audience, as I slowly became a solitary couple to face the frightening world alone, again.
There is no better place for me to unfurl my wings than here, I reminded myself this morning. I gathered my tea tins and equipment with Andy’s loving assistance and sallied forth to be daunted by the huge displays that greeted me at the other end. My tea was not enough, but I made a cozy corner anyway. The person who could have lent me a good hand was too absorbed by her own display to do little more than show me where I went wrong—too little of a display, the favorite tea was too expensive to sell, I came about thirty minutes too late if I had had a good display to build, and I am sure there was much more that I missed. For next year I know better now what to prepare. I guess that is what this is all about.
Back from talking with Steven who called just to check on me. He talks to me like a father would. It is, I must say, refreshing.
He reminded me to remain patient, as he is, to talk to the influential people, to not run with the sheep dogs, to take care of myself. “You’ve got to be political.” As for the sheep dogs, he explained, “those are the worst kind. They chase the cattle and the sheep. When you’re a farmer you shoot sheep dogs, so, like my uncle says, ‘If you run with the sheep dogs be prepared to pay the consequences.’” It is the picture I wish my dad had given me instead of turning down most of my friends I developed purely out of compassion or desperation for a companion.
Steven read to me what Bill had to say about my performance, which made me wonder, again, if everyone wanted to overlook my fumbles for my success. To hear a full paragraph of praise was a little too much, “Didn’t he have any criticism for me?” “Nope, that was it.”
This summer he wants to make me Program Director to get me more involved with the processes of camp and out of Cabin 6. Not that I complained, that I can remember, nor that I would want this position, but I am, in many ways, qualified. Could I muster the energy for five weeks to fill this position? For a week, maybe two, I could see it; but I can also see me getting weary, frustrated, frazzled, and spending many hours dwelling upon not knowing what to do. I also believe it is a position that would keep me out of trouble.
Bill and his wife had a baby girl. It is a little sad that he just does not know what to do with her. The way he would look at me when I said something particularly childish or girly told me he did not know how to respond. He must have been a shy boy, or teased, or both, and I am a little surprised to imagine he is married.
