A Conversation Between a Master and a Former Pupil

Former Pupil: Master?

Master: Ah! It is good to see you. It has been a long time since you visited me.

FP: I am sorry. I should have come regularly.

M: You are here because you have a problem that you cannot solve.

FP: How did you know?

M: Because I am your Master, and I know you. Besides, why else would you come?

FP: Yes, you know me.

M: So, tell me the problem. It must be a great one, because you yourself have become an elder, and should be able to solve your own problems.

FP: It is not a great problem, rather, one I could ignore if I chose. But it eats at me nonetheless.

M: And?

FP: A great Storyteller has died. You have probably heard the news.

M: Yes, I have. It is sad. However, he had a long and successful life.

FP: This Storyteller told great tales, and gave me many hours of enjoyment as a child, before you became my Master, and even as an adult. Many mourn the Teller’s loss.

M: Yes, I know. 

FP: But some have told me the Teller has also done harm. 

M: I have heard that too. Did the Teller do you harm?

FP: No. I never met the Teller personally, but only saw at a distance. The stories shall stay with me forever.

M: Do you know those whom the Teller has harmed?

FP: No, but others have testified to such, and many believe the accusations to be true.

M: Do you believe them?

FP: Yes. And these people are dear to me and I do not wish to hurt them.

M: But you wish to mourn the Teller?

FP: Yes. But I am torn. How do I mourn without harming those who believe the Teller to have done more harm than good?

M: You have brought me a difficult question.

FP: If it were easy, I would have solved it myself. I look to you for greater wisdom than I have.

M: Hmmm. 

FP: Have I come to you in error?

M: No. I simply ponder the dilemma. You loved the Storyteller, and wish to mourn. Others mourn in public, but pay no heed to those who have been harmed by the Teller and those who take up their cause. You wish to publicly mourn, or at least acknowledge the Teller’s passing, but also give respect to those who feel differently. 

FP: Yes, Master. That is the dilemma.

M: Let me ask you this. Have you done good in the world?

FP: I believe that I have. I have spent much of my life in service to others.

M: Yes, I know. Have you ever done harm?

FP: Yes, I realize that I have done harm to some people at some time.

M: Did you attempt to make amends?

FP: Sometimes. Not always.

M: So, you are not perfect?

FP: I never thought I was. But I think the good I have done is greater than the bad.

M: Do you think the Teller felt the same way?

FP: I don’t know, but it seems likely.

M: Did the Teller make amends with those pained?

FP: I don’t know. It seems unlikely.

M: Is there some difference between you and the Teller?

FP: Well, perhaps in some ways. I remember causing harm to a few and never made amends. I have never admitted this to anyone before.

M: Like most, you harbor secrets. Are there other differences?

FP: Oh, many. The Teller was famous and rich, and could sweep away accusations with money or threats. I cannot. I can only hope that those whom I have harmed either never come forward or never find out.

M: So, the Teller is a dragon, who uses power to push aside the weak accusers. You are a rat, who slinks under the floorboards and hopes no one notices or cares enough to find you.

FP: I do not wish to think of myself as a rat, but I accept that the analogy is an apt one.

M: Those in power often do great things and horrible things at the same time. Those without power do smaller things, both good and bad. It is the nature of people. Sometimes our transgressions are intentional, other times not.

FP: You have succeeded in making me aware of my own faults and contradictions, but not answered my question.

M: I think I have. It is too late for the Teller to make amends. It is not too late for you.

FP: This may require more fortitude than I think I have.

M: It usually does. Otherwise you would have already done it.

FP: But shall I mourn the Teller?

M: How would you make amends to those whom you have wronged? In public or in private?

FP: I would prefer in private.

M: So, mourn the Teller in private and do not disturb those who have been wronged by the Teller. You would only cause more pain. And consider what good might come of making your own amends.

FP: You are wise. I shall mourn in private, and I shall ponder who I have wronged and how I might make amends.

M: This seems like a wise path.

FP: You are also famous and powerful. Have you ever done wrong to some and not made amends?

M: None of your business.

It's Nice to Be Back

I have been retired from my position at Hiram College for six months. Turning 65, doing my regular job plus substituting as the cataloger, and the decreasing presence of the library as I know it in the life of the college convinced me that it was time to say my goodbyes. I left, but didn’t quite, as I still had one leftover advisee, who finished up in May, and now I have volunteered to be on the Board of the Friends of the Library. Perhaps I’m a damned fool for agreeing to it. However, as a non-employee of the institution I may be able to allow my inner rebel to flourish. 

Retirement is an odd thing, especially if you don’t quite give up the lifestyle. I’m still, for want of a better word, an academic. I think about colleges and their future a lot, wonder if I would survive in one as a student (things have changed radically since the early 1970s), and consider the impact the library had on my early life as opposed to that of a contemporary student. I still think about doing research. I still write book reviews. I ain’t done yet, although the paperwork says something quite different. So far, I have read more than 50 books since the beginning of the year, a pace that I haven’t maintained since the summer before I started working as a high school student. But reading 50 books means sitting for 50 books, and I need to strike a better balance in my newly available free time, between reading getting some exercise. 

And writing. I’ve been doing some “creative” writing of the memoir variety. I’m not sure where it’s going yet, but I plan to do a public reading of a couple of essays in the fall. They’re based on some old photos I have of me as a kid, using the images as jumping off points for segments of my life as I reconstruct them in memory and spill them on the page. This is very different writing from anything I’ve ever done before, and it might just end in dismal failure. For my entire career I have written technical reports, academic papers, policies and procedures, reviews, and other materials that require stilted and formal prose. Now, I can do anything, but what does that mean? Will I write essays about my life that sound like technical reports? Results have yet to come in.

Aside from the lack of going to work in the morning and sitting in front of a computer for seven hours each day, I noticed a few immediate changes in my world. More dishes, less laundry, for example. Since I’m eating lunch at home more of the time, there’s more to clean up. But I don’t have to use quite as much clothing if I’m just kicking around the house. Normally, I changed clothes after work, slipping into something more comfortable for the evening. Now I start with the more comfortable clothes and stay there, changing to something presentable if we go out. My sleep schedule hasn’t quite changed to match my wife’s, but I’m getting up an hour later in the morning. I sometimes take an afternoon nap. My goodness, what decadence.

Now, all my mail comes to the house. I used to have packages come to the library, so that I could recycle the cardboard without adding to the pile at home to take to the recycle bins in town, or reuse the boxes if they were big, for book sale storage. I have also cut down on the number of packages, which is to say the number of CDs and books I buy. Not completely, but significantly. Our town doesn’t have drone delivery yet, but UPS delivers on Sundays, and that’s quite sufficient.

I continue to resist some technologies. We remodeled our kitchen and it has neither microwave nor dishwasher. We don’t like them. I do not have a smartphone, but I suppose that will change eventually, as vital functions will not happen without them. Hell, I don’t even answer the phone at home if I can avoid it. It’s never for me anyway, except the robocalls from our friendly politicians. Screw them all, the rat bastards. Do I sound retired yet?