It is, of course, a fantasy - but one I have clung to all my life. It shifts. Through much of my youth I was going to be god’s gift to Broadway, and heir to all that accompanied such celebrity. The fantasy would shift between cinema and the stage, from performer to producer, but always with some flavor of significant fame and fortune attached. Strangely however, I never woke up to find myself immersed that life. I suppose that while most celebs achieved their status on the wings of dumb luck, they probably were also willing to make effort, choices and compromises that I couldn’t get behind. You will undoubtedly have noted that nowhere do I imply a lack of talent or ability on my part. There are always pieces of a fantasy to which we cling.
It turned out that rather than following the examples of the idols whose visages covered the walls of star struck adolescents everywhere; I followed this guy:
That’s my Dad down there, Dr. F. James Schrag, professor of Sociology, doing his thing - most likely at Wittenberg University in Springfield, Ohio. His twin specialties were religion and race relations. He lived to be 100! Sure could use him these days. Anyhow, I followed his lead and spent 40+ years in college classrooms - more if you count those spent on the more populated side of the desk. You’d think I would have outgrown my youthful creative fantasies. Ha! I laugh at you! And again, ha ha! And then thrice - ha, ha,ha!
If you have been hanging out here on The Wall for the 20+ years of it’s existence you know that I am utterly shameless about posting prose, poetry, and a wide variety of images. The thing is this - the fantasy has shifted, particularly here in retirement. I am no longer so concerned about the whole fame and fortune gambit. That horse, I believe, has left the barn. Rather, I am fascinated by the idea of being “one of guys” - no gender distinction implied. I would love to be Jane Austin or Emily Dickinson or JK Rowling every bit as much as being Tolkien or Twain reincarnated. I just imagined retirement as the opportunity to live a tranquil, creative life. Billy Collins says in the strangely titled The Trouble with Poetry, “Poetry fills me with joy and I rise like a feather in the wind.” I just wanted to share a bit of that wind.
But obstacles to the wind have arisen from a rather strange place: technology. You see I picture “the guys” plying their trade in some romanticized version of a garret - no rats, central ac and heating, a nice wine. (Come on, it’s my fantasy. To continue -) The windows open out onto a loggia overlooking a formal garden sloping down to a shimmering canal. Picture Bilbo writing his memoirs before setting sail off to the Grey Havens. Ah, yes.
And just where, in that calm and gracious scenario does the phrase “Enter your Google password in Settings” make sense? Followed by “The data you have entered does not match our records. Retry?” Followed by “Reset password?” and “Sync new password across all devices?” or “Please chose a new password that you have not used in this lifetime” and “Your password was changed 42 months ago.”
I feel more like Dr. Frankenstein than Bobby Burns. “Could you hand me a cup of brains from that tub over there? Just next to the femurs. Yes, they came in today. Fresh, very fresh - quite prime if I do say so myself.”
And what was I writing anyway?
“How do I love thee?
Let me count ......”
Let me count what?
Bing! “Dr. Appt with Dr. Seuss at 4:00 pm tomorrow.”
I suppose that this post fits in there with don’t go grocery shopping when you are hungry. You get no vegetables, but lots of donuts and spray cheese. I am, you will not be surprised to learn, doing a major technology revision, and dammit, I just wanted to write a few paragraphs. I seriously suspect that the software engineers at all the major tech companies have 3 year-olds, are working from home and have home bound grandparents who just tested positive for the virus. What else would have driven them to visit this software hell upon us?
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