The
Smallest of Every Day Choices
I stared down at the thick, heavy
psychology text book lying open on the table in front of me. I chided myself
again for procrastinating and waiting until just 4 hours before the test to
read the material assigned. After all, the class met just once a week on
Tuesday nights and I really enjoyed the new things I was learning in it.
I disregarded the many excuses that flew
through my mind; just because I only moved last week was no excuse. Well sure,
it was the fourth move in a year and a half since my dad had served divorce
papers on my mom. First a flight across country from Fort Wayne, Indiana to Los
Angeles via Chicago when I was just 19 years old; then into a studio apartment,
and then into another one and finally back home when Mom moved back to LA that
fall. And even though I had gotten used to living by myself, it really was no
hardship to move into the tiny condo shared with Mom, one older brother, one
younger sister, and another younger brother. No, I should be able to
concentrate…Linda, you should be
studying. Really!
I went back to marking the text with a
thick, yellow highlighter. I thought about the force of the words in the book.
A scale measured the amount of stress events place on a person’s life. I began
counting up the number of points Mom had accumulated over the course of the
last year. She was way over the number of points that indicated she would be at
risk of developing a severe illness in the next 12 months. Do I really want to
know what psychologists study in an effort to understand the human mind?
The words transported me from my circular
thoughts that had kept reminding me that I was missing the family birthday
party tonight for my nephew and niece, born the same day to two different
sisters-in-law; missing evening events was a real drawback to attending night
classes this first semester of college for me. I knew I had to focus in or risk
flunking this psych test in a few hours and attacked my studies with renewed
resolve.
I reached the Summary and Key Terms at the
end of the chapter, sighing in relief. Then I felt all the hairs at the back of
my neck stand up in unison. “Someone is
watching you.” I felt it and knew it at the same time. This was my quiet,
secret place; the satellite cafe on campus open only during the off hours when
the day students had gone home and the night students not yet come in. The
place had been empty when I arrived, dropped my burger and fries on a table with
seating for 6. I placed my books around
me with notebook and pens handy.
Dare I glance up and see who was staring?
Years of training in my family of 11 siblings warned me to be cautious. The Key
Terms I stared at blurred as curiosity grew inside me, to look or not to look,
what should I do? A quick glance up made me groan inwardly, my eyes darted back
down to the page. First impressions mean everything right? And that momentary
look told me all I needed to know—a veteran, short hair, jeans and a t-shirt, a
broad grin smiling down at me. But my look up provided all the invitation he
needed. Long, lanky legs strode over to the edge of the table, “Anyone sitting
here?”
Nope,
just me and I am invisible right? “No,” I mumbled as inaudibly as possible.
“Okay if I sit here?” He didn’t wait for
an answer, but set his tray down on the table, sat down and slid into the
booth. Do I even have a choice in this?
There are only a dozen more empty tables scattered around the room. I noticed
the cup of coffee and slice of cake resting on his tray, chocolate. Hhhmmppphhh!
Aren’t
I supposed to be at a birthday party for LeAnne and Matthew? Now what am I
going to do? I started gathering my supplies and books for a quick retreat
to the library. I scarfed down the last huge bite of burger and decided the
fries were a lost cause; I could drink the cola on the way to the library.
“I’m new to this school and checking
things out today. How do you like it?” the jovial man asked.
“It’s fine; it’s my first semester too. I
have to go and study for a test.”
“What’s your major?”
“Nursing.”
“I’m thinking about taking guitar. Do you
know anything about the music department?” Another
guitar-playing guy back from the war…It was 1975 and no one appreciated the
sacrifice our service men and women had made.
“Don’t know a thing about the music
department, all my classes are in math and science,” my curt reply did nothing
to dissuade him from his cross-examination.
“How about the art department? I saw some
signs on the way over here. There is some kind of an Art Gallery around here.”
“I know there is a sign pointing the way
over by the library,” I wished he’d read my signs that I did not want any more
of this conversation. I plastered my eyes on the Chapter Summary and tried my
best to ignore him.
“I just got out of the Air Force and did a
bit of ceramics while I was in Arizona. I’d like to teach ceramics or art
someday. Could you show me the way to that sign pointing to the Art Gallery?”
Oh
yeah, I sure can. “Of course, I’ll show you the way to the library. But
then I really need to study.”
“Let me just finish up my cake and we can
go,” he said before demolishing it in a few bites.
With nothing left for me to eat, I studied
the face across from me; dark hair, brown eyes, a thinner version of my dad. He
continued to ply me with questions and amazingly I continued to answer. Before
I realized the time was passing, I found myself laughing and forgetting all
about my test. The missed birthday party fled my thoughts as we walked across
campus to the side door of the library.
We found the sign which pointed up a
staircase. “I guess that is the way to the Art Gallery.” I lingered at the door
just a bit longer than needed.
“You think you could walk up there with me?”
He paused momentarily at a loss for words.
What could one flight of stairs hurt? After
all, I never had been to an art gallery in my life. Well okay, maybe I could
take just a few more minutes. “Oh, all right.”
“Oh, and by the way, here’s my phone
number. Could you give me your phone number?” he miraculously materialized a
slip of paper with his phone number on it. Do guys just carry these things
around in their pockets?
Of course, I had already memorized my new
phone number for the condo! “Sure,” and I gave it to him which he carefully
recorded in a small, green book he produced from his back pocket.
So we climbed the first flight of stairs
and reached a landing. At the side there was another sign stating Art Gallery
with another arrow pointing up. So I looked up this flight and realized that
there were many, many more flights of stairs up the hillside before a person
would reach some trees at the top of a mountain with some buildings peeking
from behind. What have I gotten myself
into? And yet, now I didn’t want to let this conversation go. So we climbed
up what I counted to be a dozen flights of stairs to finally reach the top and follow
another sign into a shady grove where the Art Gallery stood, closed!
Yep, they were between shows and if
anything this part of the campus was even more deserted, probably because it
involved climbing a mountain to get up here!
“Hey, since the gallery is closed, would
you like to see my car?”
See
his car, why in the world would I want to see anyone’s car! And so we
walked off in another direction on campus for me to see his beautiful, to him,
dark blue, 1974 Mustang. It was pretty and my 1967 Comet didn’t look like much
beside it. I studied his pride in showing me his car. I thought of cars as
utility vehicles to get me where I needed to go. What was I missing?
“I’ve gotta go now, so I will give you a
call sometime.” He hopped into the driver’s seat and rolled down the window. A
little more small talk and then our first parting from one another was over.
Somehow I floated down the mountainside,
found a place in the library, and focused back on the task of preparing for the
multiple choice test in psychology. Thankfully we started the class with the
test because I don’t think I absorbed much of the lecture afterwards. The next
week I learned that despite the distractions, I did okay pulling a 90% on the
test. By then, Gary and I had already had our first date and were making plans
for him to come out and meet my family.
Sometimes the small choice of looking up
and giving a random stranger a moment or two of your time can have profound
effects. Some of the walks we’ve taken together have been easier, other very
difficult. Just 6 months after meeting, one of the hardest walks we took
together was attending my mom’s funeral after inflammatory breast cancer robbed
her away from us. Yes, all that stress she endured plus the rejection from the
divorce did turn into serious illness for her. The psychology test had
predicted correctly on that one.
Another 6 short months later we became
engaged, planning our wedding for July of the next year. We have been climbing
mountains together for almost 40 years since the day I chose to look up. The
world around us has revolved and now our country welcomes our veterans back
home and thanks them for their service, unlike when Gary came home and veterans
were reviled for fighting in Vietnam. This choice seems to be much better than
blaming the men and women we send overseas for the results of war.
And it is in those small, everyday choices
when we decide to be there for one another, understanding our human foibles and
enjoying our shared humanity that we set the patterns for our lives. Whether we
grow a spirit of friendliness and generosity or become embittered over life’s
difficulties is a result grown from those very choices to look up with a smile
or keep our eyes shuttered from our fellow human beings. And yes, one day about
2 years into our marriage I asked Gary if he knew the Art Gallery was closed
that day with his car parked so nearby. “Of course I did,” he said with a grin,
“I just wanted to see if you would bother or not.” And I am so glad that I did
because it turned into the best decision I ever made.
