During these stupefying times, I began to notice internet traffic, publicity about an upcoming Class Reunion. Although I've been re-union-able for 40 years, now, I have attended only one reunion, and decided not to go to another. I dunno. High school I believe is something better left behind. And once I make up my mind, that's it, stubborn old curmudgeon that I am. But then I heard from another and then another one of those left behind. I guess I liked everybody as individuals but hated a lot of the whole high-school experience as a whole.
This morning when I woke up, I had the idea in my head that it would be a perfect Saturday to tackle the rusting ironwork in front of the old Bank. The Bank houses our theater, our own apartment, and two other rental apartments. This little finger-ripping project has been on my list for over a year, now. There are fences and wrought iron window-grates over the entire front of the building, and it's been about 8 years since last I sanded and re-enameled them, so they're getting rusty, which discolors the concrete, and then you have another project on your hands, don't you?
But, why did I feel like I had to start this today? There are plenty of other, cleaner, easier projects on the old job list. And I have to go to a stupid wedding later this afternoon - mmm peas'n'carrots! . As I got about halfway through with sanding the rust off of the bars, it occurred to me - why this job, why now? It has to do with the class reunion. My brain is always doing devious things like this to me. Swedenborg Doctrine of Uses or some such process...
By re-finishing the bars of my cage, I am defining and clarifying my borders - the line that separates me and mine from everything else. As long as I have my own borders, achievements, and accomplishments clearly in mind, nothing bad or damaging can occur. Some of the friends I love and trust, mostly from my old parochial grade school class, will be there; some are traveling great distances to be there. I am looking forward to meeting in person people with whom I have recently become re-acquainted via social media. Our grade school class was always a supportive safety net through all the newness and uncertainty of high school.
And the poseurs, the elite clique who imagined that they rule and define and speak for the rest of us, showing us the proper way to think about things, perhaps they will attend as well -- who knows? And who cares?
Thanks for listening and contributing. I'd love to hear from you.