paisleypiper's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- braid gets another twist Beginnings and endings Today was a day of beginnings and endings, amidst a general work day where I did not get enough accomplished. Some days are more personally significant than others and I find that work just happens to be there, not unlike the dishes. At the university I attend there is a professor who once was a student of Donald Barthelme. For this alone she has intrigued me for years. Although it makes me just once removed from Barthelme who is a significant writer in my life as a reader and as a writer, this tidbit is small. That does not stop me from wishing I could have a beer with her and hear all about what it was like to be in a class with him. Now, in her own right, she is quite accomplished and is the closest we come at the university to having a celebrity professor of creative writing. Today she guest-lectured in class about Milton�s poetics and book four of Paradise Lost. She set her photocopy of our Roy Flannigan edition of everything that Milton ever wrote on the lectern. She put on her glasses and got situated and comfortable in front of our quiet class. Standing about 5�1� she barely could be seen over the lectern, but one minute into her lecture that ceased being an issue. Without hesitation, this was the best-taught class session I have ever attended, and it was not even her own class. I had decided that I was going to take her poetry class next term, so I am motivated to register before the class fills. A beginning. I am ready to learn a lot from her about poetry. Wanting to learn exemplifies a feeling that makes life great. But it can be frustrating at times without a teacher. The past year has been spent in classes with teachers who make me want to space out, make complilation CD's, surf the net, more that I want to do my classwork. An ending. This evening, my friend T. and I said goodbye to another friend who is moving to Denver. We ate dinner at a small caf� run by an eccentric man who shook my hand twice and had the attitude of a pirate with the gold hood earrings to match. The food was on the tasty side of mediocre, but the experience was perfect because it was comfortable, we were able to bring our own wine and we could linger. It is hard to say good-bye. The increased ease of e-mail makes it all too easy to talk about keeping in touch. And the desire to keep talking and not actually wonder how our lives will reconnect again makes it easy to plan the visit. She wants me to visit and I would like to visit. But will I? Or will I run into her someplace during extremely precious visits back here where she is trying to see as much of her family as possible. But I think in ten years our paths will cross again. Because this is the third time they have crossed and it seems that our lives are braided into the same braid, somehow, because of someone neither of us are close to anymore. This friend taught foods and nutrition where I went to high school, but I never had class with her. We met because through another teacher who, at that time in my life, was important to me. And sometimes I would like to be able to tell that teacher how much, but what we say and don�t say and what we think and don�t say are the mysterious fabric of life. My relationship with this teacher belongs to that great mystery and I think it is best that I keep it there. My friend PN used to carpool with this teacher and would come get her to head home. Many afternoons, we would be engaged in a conversation and I became acquainted with PN. My teacher and I used to tell stories back and forth about our lives and things that we had observed. Occasionally PN would stop by and chime in with a bizarre story that always surprised me. I love it when people defy classification and stereotypes and this is what PN did, so I noticed her and remembered her. Years later, when I was new to my job at the umbrella agency, my boss sent me to a meeting in a different city to represent the office and take notes. And who should be there but PN. Then, a few years after that, PN moved to the city where I live and we became acquainted through work. Often in conversation, she mentions this former teacher of mine who was a really good friend of hers. And still is, but she said that they have lost touch. What began as nervousness about what PN knew about me and may have thought about me based on what the former teacher may have told her has now disappeared. A connection based on the past turned into a friendship in the future and is about to become again a second connection based on the past. PN mentioned that she is going to the Dylan concert soon with her family. And we talked about that and joked about family t-shirts. After our little dinner party split up, we walked T. to his car and then walked down to where we had both parked near each other. She asked me how everything was going, but we did not get a chance to follow-up on some of our loose ends. I told her that everything with work was just fine � she knew I was bluffing, but what else can you do? We had a hug and said good-bye and hurried to our cars. These things are difficult. I started the car and turned on the stereo. The song playing was Dylan from 1971 singing �Don�t Think Twice.� The braid gets another twist. 11:21 p.m. - 2002-10-22 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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