Our Business of Being Human

Okay. I really don't like the updated log-on window at the library. The old window had a certain elegance and simplicity about it. This one is too busy and modern. In other words, far too emblematic of our go-go times. Given the fact these cats see fit to provide me with free computer and internet access, I suppose I won't go on about this unfortunate update beyond this line.

I watched the film version of Anne Tyler's A Slipping Down Life the other night which reminded me of a funny "foot in the mouth" story. I'm a mistress of these verbal blunders but this blunder is another's. When I was catering and personal cheffing a trillion years ago in Baltimore (the "Meg Does Food" years), I had a client named Joni F. She was a kind woman who, incidentally, lived in one of the most beautifully decorated houses I'd ever been fortunate enough to work in. I mention this because she had out-foxed a local literary God on the place who was not exactly known for his refined sensibilites in this arena. Anywho, bless dear Joni, I got to house sit for her often as well.

In her mid-forties, Joni decided to start writing plays and performing them. She wrote one, painted her own stage (it was quite impressive), built all the props and went about the business of staging the entire production of her debut. She did this all in her own dining room which was converted into a mini-theater. She brought in girl scout troops and residents of retirement centers to perform for. I popped in for a show. It was a delightful meditation on recognizing the good that may already be right in front of you.

A month or so after the play's run, Joni attended one of those little ladies luncheons for some charity in Roland Park. She found herself seated next to a quiet, rather shy woman about her same age. She asked the woman what she did and her dining neighbor replied, "Oh, I'm just a writer". My former client proceeded to tell her how great that was and if she just kept at it and maybe someday she might be as successful as she (JF) had recently been. The woman nodded graciously, thanked Joni very enthusiastically for the encouragement and went back to eating her cucumber and watercress sandwich. A friend later pulled her into the kitchen to explain the absurdity of the situation.

Good 'ol Joni she laughed at herself for a long time after that. She was smart enough to recognize true class when she encountered it. The last time I saw her she was sneaking into a TCBY inside the Rotunda Mall across from an American Crafts Gallery where I was working part-time. I was standing outside sneaking a smoke. We both knew we'd just "made" one another. At one point in time, both of us had sworn off dairy, sugar and tobacco. We just nodded at each other, smiled and went on with our business of being human.