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We live in angry times. Many people feel they must be very careful in deciding how open to be, especially about politics, let alone about race, class, or gender. In addition, the hollowing of the middle class is putting ever more people on edge.
It started early. Quiet, mousy, and Christian, eight-year-old Emily was nervous leaving school each day. With reason: Often, mean boys and even girls would be waiting in the bushes outside the school, and when Emily would pass, they would pounce, force her to give them her money, or even beat her up.
That drew Emily ever more inward. She "turned the other cheek" mainly by drawing and later, painting watercolors. Her favorite subject was the Lamb of God.
Emily continued evolving her lamb paintings until she had created a series of them, some realistic, some impressionist, some abstract. But she was afraid that kids would think the paintings were bad, even make fun of her religiosity—She lived in Walnut Creek, a suburb of San Francisco in which religion is often viewed askance. So she rarely showed her paintings to anyone.
When Emily was a senior in high school, a student on the yearbook staff added three words to Emily's entry: "I'm happily pregnant." Of course, when Emily saw that, she was devastated. But it was too late: 1,000 copies of the yearbook had been printed and in the students' hands.
Emily chose to go to college at San Francisco State largely because it was close to home—She wanted to be able to come home for the weekends. She also chose San Francisco State—but didn't tell her parents this—because she thought it particularly likely to expose her to very different ideas. Alas, in class one day, when she quietly admitted that she was pro-life, a student ridiculed her and the professor waited a long time before saying, "That's enough." That was enough to make Emily feel she must keep her views to herself even in, maybe especially in, the so-called tolerant San Francisco.
Emily did date but chose to remain a virgin until her junior year. Her boyfriend said the he was sterile. She didn't have reason to disbelieve him, so they had sex unprotected. A few months later, she was pregnant. Disillusioned, she broke up with him. Her faith prohibited abortion and so, although she was far from ready to have a child, she had it—a difficult birth—and, after much psychological as well as physical pain, gave up her baby for adoption.
After graduating, the best job Emily could land was the 2 PM to 10 PM shift as a clerk in a county courthouse. After six months of the fatigue and impeded social life that comes from working swing shift, she got moved to the day shift. But one of the night clerks coveted that and so told the boss about a few errors Emily had made, including a serious one that Emily had covered up. The coworker said it was unfair that Emily and not he got the day shift. The coworker said that unless he got the day shift, he'd file a grievance with the union. The boss caved and moved the dispirited Emily back to the 2 to 10 shift.
Emily's upbringing taught her to value the institution of marriage. But her experiences led her to remain unmarried and to limit her contact with people. Even walking down the street, she avoided making eye contact and usually wore earbuds to signal her unavailability. She wore a gold band on the 4th finger of her left hand to make people think she's married.
Occasionally, she did date. One time, she felt comfortable enough to pull out her phone to show her date jpgs of her Lamb of God watercolors. He loved them and asked if, on the cafe wall, she'd hang his favorite: one of Jesus cradling a lamb. A few days later, he phoned to tell her that someone had splotched red paint on the lamb and, across the painting in graffiti style, scrawled "Resist!"
Emily continues to believe that gentle kindness is key to the life well-led, whether reciprocated or not. So she finds her life's main contentment in doing random acts of kindness but mainly for strangers, when it wouldn't lead to a relationship. So she feeds cars' expired parking meters when she sees a parking officer arriving. She cleans up dog droppings on the street. She volunteers in a hospital to hug abandoned newborns.
Recently, her father asked her, "You're getting ever more isolated, Emily. I'm worried about you. Shouldn't you give humankind another try?" She replied, "People are a minefield."
I've posted another article citing other real-world examples of the need for caution. HERE is the link.
Dr. Nemko’s nine books, including his just-published Modern Fables: short-short stories with life lessons, are available. You can reach career and personal coach Marty Nemko at mnemko@comcast.net
