Life is What Happens While You're Busy Making Other Plans

Well, MEA has pretty much come and gone. Our schedule here is set up so we don't have any classes during MEA while most schools only go through Wednesday. Instead we have two 12 hour conference days. Then we get Wednesday off.

I spent much of it reading "The Jungle" by Upton Sinclair. I have never read it. I bought a copy years ago with the intention of reading it, but, like so many other books (Crime and Punishment, The Awakening, The Sound and the Fury, Siddhartha, All Quiet on the Western Front . . .), I just never got around to them.

The curriculum for my Advanced Writing class calls for students to read two novels from a selected list and then compare or contrast them in a research paper at semester's end. "The Jungle" is paired with "The Grapes of Wrath," which I've read. So since I had three days off, I figured this was my chance to finally read "The Jungle."

Once I got past the opening chapter dealing with the wedding dance, things began rolling. In fact, as often is the case with me, I dosed off in my reading chair after several chapters. The book had made such an impression on me, that I actually had nightmares.

Early on in the book there is a passage that I found interesting --

"Jurgis had come there, and thought he was going to make himself useful, and rise and become a skilled man; but he would soon find out his error -- for nobody rose in Packingtown by doing good work. You could lay that down for a rule -- if you met a man who was rising in Packingtown, you met a knave. That man who had been sent to Jurgis' father by the boss, he would rise; the man who told tales and spied upon his fellows would rise; but the man who minded his own business and did his work -- why, the would "speed him up" till they had worn him out, and then they would throw him into the gutter" (50).

This passage reminded me of education. Last year I was talking with a colleague here about how some teachers here 'rise' up the ladder here. The more ass you kiss and suck up, the more preferential treatment you will receive. She said her father worked out at the college and saw the same thing there. When you just teach and mind your own business and do your job and tell it how it is, well you're stuck spinning your wheels.


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Yesterday (Thursday) Dad and I made an afternoon of it. I was looking forward to this because I was starting to worry about him. He has been taking chemo for his lung cancer for the better part of a year now. The treatments have taken a toll on his energy level. For a man who has worked hard all of his life - and more amazingly -- enjoyed working hard all of his life, not being able to do as much as he used to is a major adjustment. When I talked to him yesterday, he was disgusted that after meeting with the doctor he would have to wear an oxygen tank. Initially, the nurse told him he only had to wear it at night and when he was feeling particular tired or short of breath. However, the man who dropped the tank off told him that he had to wear it all the time. Another burden for Dad to bear. I imagine this was also difficult because Mom had been burdened with the same device before her death.

Luckily, Dad talked to the hospital again and found out that he doesn't have to wear it all the time.

To give him something to do, I suggested he help me move some old junk out of our garage. Delighted, he quickly agreed. So we spent about 10 minutes loading and dumping the junk and several hours driving around visiting.

Again I was shocked by the trivial details we reminisced over -- hauling hay bales on an old back road we were traveling down and blowing out a tire. I only vaguely remember this though because it was after a long hard day of baling hay and all I wanted was to get home. It seemed like we worked on that tire for hours that night and even the next day.

While we were talking about this, Dad said, "You remember why that darn thing took us so long?"

I was clueless.

"It's because Russell (the man from whom we bought the farm and all of our equipment) welded the rim onto the axle."

"What? Why would he do that?"

"The holes on the rim he had didn't match up with the ones on the hay rack, so he just welded it all together. Which would have been so bad, had he put a new tire on the rim. But he used an old worn out one. So instead of just taking off the tire and bringing it to town, we had to get a new tire and put it on the rim!"

I couldn't believe it. I laughed until my side hurt. It was the best moment I had with Dad in quite some time. Nothing is trivial.

In fact, when he dropped me off, he thanked me for a wonderful day. And indeed it was wonderful. Had I been 10 years younger and had Dad been healthier, I would have seen the day as more of an inconvenience. I mean there were other things that I needed to accomplish. But Dad's illness has put my life in perspective. Nothing is trivial. It was one of those rare moments when I really appreciated our time together. I was happy. Better yet, I knew I was happy, and that made it so much more powerful.

Our afternoon together reminds me of a quote -- "Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans" -- John Lennon. I thought of that while Dad and I were driving around visiting. That also happens to be the line that won Kristie's heart. When we were first dating we talked on the phone for hours. During one of our conversations I mentioned that quote. It turns out it was one of Kristie's favorite quotes too. Once she heard that she knew I was the one. Giddy up. Nothing is trivial.