Selling Sno-Cones at the Beach

untitled

Yesterday I learned that my former boss, of 15 years, has cancer. I haven't called him yet - because the news was in the hometown paper he's probably deluged with phone calls at the moment - but I wrote a letter and told him I'll call next week.

I don't have a good feeling about this. I think he's been sick for awhile.

I owe him a lot - but at a cost. Working for him, especially in the high-profile job that I had, intensified all my lifelong feelings of insecurity about not "measuring up." Working in the public eye is like acting, to some extent: as soon as I stepped out of my car to walk toward the building, I'd have to remember to step briskly and confidently, head high, full of faked vigor instead of the usual early morning exhaustication. Once he pulled me aside for a fatherly pep talk about never admitting aloud to being tired - "it drags down your staff and makes them think they can slack." So much for authenticity of self.

When he stepped down, things were more relaxed, but the old drive and discipline had actually been essential in getting things done, and under the new regime that hasn't been a priority.

Now, in my current albeit part-time job I get lots of accolades and little oversight, and I know that I am not being judged by the same impossibly high standards that I worked under for so long. It is a relief - but it feels like cheating.

Meanwhile, back in 1914: dry, bloodless tales of impossible losses at Charleroi and Mons. No one knows the future except perhaps Kitchener. I still think of Fort de Loncin at Liege, and it haunts me. "Why haunting? Why now?" asks cultural geographer Karen Till. I don't know the answer, but I'd like to spend some time this summer finding it out.

PS: "untitled" is the stupidest title ever. If its title is "untitled," then it isn't untitled, is it??

Posted by otto0114 at May 26, 2004 07:08 PM