Blue

Once there was this nun, principal of my grade school, an imposing woman with more of a sense of morality and grammar than any feeling for children. I had few moments with her, not being a child to get into trouble enough to be sent to the principal. Those times are seared into my memory.

Granny had been ill, and for some reason I no longer recall, I told her about this. Or tried to. "My granny... she was sic... "

"No, not your 'grandmother she' just your grandmother."

"My granny was sick." Thing is, I knew about the rule, I'd just paused for thought, I wouldn't have written a sentence like that. Even then I knew she really didn't care to know anymore, so I said as little as possible. Knowing that what people said was likely more important than how they said it. Bad grammar really irritates me, but dismissing the message, interrupting it, to correct perfectly comprehensible verbal grammar, is hurtful.

The earlier, and more important time, perhaps why I spoke to her about Granny, looking for a better opinion of myself from her, involved my little potholder woven purse. Thrown in the pile with all the other little girl bags as we ran around the parkinglot/playground, a few dollars, maybe just a few quarters, were stolen from mine. So, I told Principal Nun, who sternly accused me of leading the thief into sin by leaving money out as a temptation. That I shared responsibility for the loss with the thief. I felt the guilt, even as I was surely misunderstood.

I never forgot the lesson. Crime is not a right/wronged issue. I can be just as guilty - as a victim, as the perpetrator. (Not in a legal sense, but in terms of my own life and choices - which is all I have any control over.) The stain on my own soul made worse by leading another into error. A hard lesson in responsibility.

So, since I wear a parka these days, (leaving my small bag at home) stuffing it's many pockets with wallet and keys and a bit of cash, I also stuff this coat into my small locker rather than leave it out on a hook. Because it is wrong to tempt anyone, and I have no cause to mind if I don't secure my valuables when they disappear.


One other lesson, not from the Stern Nun, but somehow out of my own head. When the teacher called for quiet, I sat still and closed my mouth, while other children ordered other children to hush. And I thought, if we all just shut it, there would be instant silence. Better than adding to the clamor, trying to make each other do something while not doing it ourselves. Damned hard lesson. Does work in the military, proof of concept experienced. Even a thousand people sitting at once can be a kind of hushed whoosh, when responding to a practiced order*, instead of a disjointed clatter. Forty women marching in boots can sound like two or three people walking quietly.

Drove in nasty snow this morning, but got to go in late and just cover lunches. Just a few hours, everyone happy, and the roads fine when I left. Snowing madly right now, so I will start early in the morning, expecting the worst. Hard week so far, came home, ate, crashed. Last night friends visited, D and Nathan walked the few blocks in the snow to get Greek food. Tomorrow will be long as well.

Blue moon, with a partial eclipse tomorrow. Probably obscured by clouds, here.



*Take... ... seat."