I was at a really lovely party Saturday. A wonderful mix of people from in and out of town, light aquaintances, friends I hadn't yet met, and one or two "you'll have to remove a rib to reach where this one resides in my life" to enhance the flavor of them all.
Superlatives run dry trying to describe my neighbor's home where it was held. Think Jay Gatsby's slightly smaller, more comfortable, unpretentious cottage of 4 or 5K sq. ft. With truly unsnooty waitstaff making sure you're absolutely comfortable.
Voices flowed like the salt breeze through the conservatory, dining room, library, eddying fascinating verbal excerpts of life and guiding me from room to room. I absolutely love hearing people at ease converse. One or two questions to set them in motion then listening to what interests, impassions, amuses them. One of my favorite things in life.
I use a cane so first questions are often directed to this. Inevitably though, into a lull come the words so difficult to answer. "What do you do?"
There's always a hesitation, an assesment while I decide if I should tell them, and if so, how much. I'm guaranteed in large group of people to be the anomalous one in the bunch. Yes, my family would tell you that's always been so, but not so glaringly as now. Now those three words decide relationships in seconds.
"I'm an Abolitionist."
After the mandatory pause some amazing questions and statements can follow. My favorite odd and unexpected one (which did not come on Saturday) was "Does that pay well?"
How do you sum up such a thing into what the entertainment industry calls an "Elevator Pitch"? I can't very well pull out my iPhone and play Kevin Bales 20 minute TED talk Modern Slavery 101 (my title not his), which in my mind is the quintessential short explaination of "What"; making "Why" I do this much simpler. I confess I did send one wonderful, interested couple home with it. It's a hard can to open without passion overtaking the polite boundries of party conversation.
What makes it so hard to rein in is the desire to have whomever listening walk away believing that it's true, the need for abolitionists still exists. That's all that's really neccessary once I'm assured they truly want to know what I mean by my job title. The rest takes care of itself. If they're interested they'll seek information on their own, or ask me for more. If not, at least they'll notice when it comes across their horizon in the news.
I always steer the conversation back to something lighthearted or at least "regular" when there's a digestive pause that tells me they're "full". I've had that glazed expression myself.
There is no "normal" reaction but often it resembles this: Someone casually tells me that a monster I was absolutely certain has been not only reduced to ashes but erased from my world is not only still stomping around, but is bigger, nastier and deadlier. It is in fact thriving in my own yard, under my bed and everyone else's as well. What would I want to do? Slam the door. Pull the covers over my head. Hope that someone braver/smarter/stronger than me does something about it.
But like many nightmares, (this is sounding like a real horror movie, yes?) no one else knows about it. I have to convince them while I'm running around in the dark with my flashlight. There are a few pockets of people who "know" and they're trying to do the same and it's a race against the clock as the monster get's bigger and stronger.
Here I am standing in this beautiful room with these truly lovely people and all of the above has flashed through my mind (it's a short distance) in a nano-second. Then I answer them.
J has been immersed in her own library of abolitionism. It seems that many of the books she has been ordering from the public library are also being scooped up by other interested locals. It's good to know that the community is beginning to pay attention.
It does pay well, Jax, maybe not in coin, but it pays well.
Posted by: paul sonderman | 06/21/2011 at 10:21 AM