I really hadn't written, eh? Well that shows you how bonkers I really was. The problem boiled down to the fact that after being so far from everyone and everything I most love, for so long, the idea of being even further away, and apart, upset me. As awful as it sounds, I would look upon the Eiffel Tower with empty emotion. Huh. Looks just like the pictures. I was upset and confused, and upset and confused about being upset and confused, and on and on. Was a bummer.
The job still goes well. I got frustrated because the cataloging goes so slowly. But when I have to be reference librarian, cataloger, cataloging clerk, circulation clerk and page, all rolled into one, what can you expect. Can't seem to catalog more than about 75 books a week, and that's too slow. Did I tell you that I've published two subject bibliographies? Really didn't have any idea of the enormity of the project, when I first took it on. Well, now I know. To do a really complete job is very time consuming.
Ran to Seattle, of course for Thanksgiving. Had a really terrific time, as always. Ran around trying to see everyone, go everywhere, do everything. I really get strung out by the end of the week, but of course I love it! There's so much to do there, and nothing here I really care to do. Odd, what?
But then, Wyoming and I walk to the beat of different drummers. After a year, I don't really have what I could call close friends. Oh, drinking buddies, and people to go to lunch with, but not people who just come over, or to do silly things with (like playing pinochle til 3 AM, or to have a mock English tea with.) For the longest time I thought it must be me. But the weirdest thing happened the other day. Get this. My friend Terry and hubby and six year old son were all born and raised in Wyoming (about 200 miles from here); hubby graduated from the University at Laramie; they've lived in Cheyenne about about two years; son goes to preschool here. Both Terry and Rocky are young, personable, cheery people, good partiers (an important thing here), into things like church, and clubs, and classes. All the ingredients for knowing everybody, wouldn't you say. (This is a long story, so hang on.) Well Terry was talking about going up to Sheridan for Christmas, the other day, and the problems they'd have with the animals. She didn't want to put them in a kennel, and she was worried about leaving enough food out for them for the week. But couldn't you have someone come over to feed them, I asked? Well, Cathy (Terry's cousin, who lives in town), is going to be gone that week. The dog doesn't like strangers, Terry said, and she was afraid the dog might bite someone. GOOD GOD!! Do you realize what that means? Other than Cathy, there's
no one in town the dog knows well enough not to worry about -- and that means that Terry and Rocky don't have any really close friends here either. What a mind blower.. It's not just me. The rhythm of Wyoming, at least as I've been able to understand it, is that you know people, and party, and go places, but emotionally at least, all but family keep their distance. And I mean, almost literally, blood family. That's not what I'm used to at all, and up to now it really confused me. I'm used to people becoming very close, relatively quickly: with someone you really click with, after just a few weeks, you're running back and forth to each others houses, raiding each other's refrigerators, you pop over for a minute and stay all week because everyone's having too good a time to leave. Just that whole nonchalant relaxed scene. It was always like that for me in Seattle (and still is), and it was becoming that in Montana by the time I left. Getting bit by the family dog is the very least of your worries: when he barks, as sometimes happens, it's just "Oh shut up, Samm -- don't you recognize me?" I kept wondering why no one called, why I never felt that the climate was receptive for me to call, or to over, or to invite folks in. I kept thinking it was me. No. I'm not saying that there's anything wrong with this, it's just the way things are here, that's all. But now, knowing that, it's easier. I'm not saying I'll stay, but at least now I can flow with a little easier Until I can leave.
I really love that card you sent. Don't recognize the scene -- it is "Bringing Up Baby? Only saw that once, years ago. If it's not that one, must be something rather like it; one of those marvelous silly romps with Hepburn-Grant (one of my favorite teams). I'm still so envious of you with all your access to great films. A few show up here on the toob (shopped all to hell). And there are a couple of good movie house in Denver, but that's 100 miles away on often iffy roads. Would you believe I'd never seen "King Kong"? Caught half or it on TV last night (the last half) - -most interesting. My friends her think I'm really odd because I won't see stuff like Earthquake, or The Omen, and prefer GWTW or King Kong, or even Bambi. SO I'm weird, so what?
When I was home at Thanksgiving I had a marvelous 4-hour lunch with an old dear friend. Again people here think it's really odd that I could enjoy spending that much time with a person 50 years old (she was a high school teacher of mine, and has since become one of my two or three Most Influential People, like Ethel Hill). Ah, what a good time we had (at Boondocks, as luck would have it). Just to have the time together. She said something too, about time, that I must pass on to you. She said that it's commonly said, and most people think, that the most important thing we have is our health. Health is important, surely, but the most important things is time. Time to think, to enjoy, to be with the people you most love, to do what you most enjoy. Health is important only because it gives you the time. How obvious of course, but I'd never really thought about it quite in that context before -- and how suddenly that idea jerks everything into focus. It isn't just a cliche -- life is too short to spend minutes, let alone years wasted, wasting the time. Oh, I've gotta get out of here. The years I've wasted here, off in the boondocks, away from all I hold dear.
In that same line, I talked to Lynne Stevenson the other day. She's now at Carroll of course. We agreed that three years in the wilderness, cut off from everything is long enough, is enough dues paid to our profession, enough apprenticeship. Now it's our turn to get instead of just give. She'll be quitting Carroll, moving back to the coast, and going back to school in the summer. And I'm determined to move back to Seattle late summer or early fall. (Time is short, because of all those Rocky Mountain passes I wont' drive over in the winter with everything I own in the backseat of my Volkswagen). Unfortunately I can't very well live in Seattle and keep my terrific job here. So I'll just have to try and find something halfway as good. I'm going to start looking after the Christmas rush. It's out there somewhere, I know it is. And I'll find it.
Now you'll probably be thoroughly disgusted with me for this, but here goes. (But then again, you probably would understand.) In the ever present search for easy answers, and always being afraid of making the wrong choices, and wanting the future known and not stumbled over, I went to a psychic in Victoria B.C. over Thanksgiving. Pam had gone to see this woman before, and had been helped and impressed. I'd felt I was drifting and stagnating at the same time, anxious about choices made and to be made. And besides, I figured it would be cheaper than going to a shrink. So I went. It was terrific. Whether she read my mind and told me what I wanted to know, or what, I don't know, and I really don't care. From her at least I got the illusion of objectivity (which you'll never get from friends), and it all sounded great. She kept saying that I was a very strong person, one of the strongest she's ever met. (I'd been told that before, by friends, but always thought, this insecure, indecisive lump is "strong"? Come on, now...) But maybe I'm stronger than I've thought. And she said, of 1977, that it would be a very good year, with things popping all the time. That I would move back home, and have a great job, with more money and more responsibility (ugh!) , but that I would be able to handle it much better than I think I can. So. (She' didn't say I'd meet a "tall, dark stranger", but she did have good things to say in that line, too!) All that I really wanted was a pat on the head and a little encouragement to keep me going,k and that's what I got; just a nice objective, You done good so far, just keep going, and, What was good will stay good, what was bad will get better.
(Good grief, this isn't a letter it's a
tome!)
Am jetting off the 18th for Christmas. (I make a decent salary, but Continental Airlines gets it all.) Besides the usual rushing around seeing people, I have all my Christmas shopping to do in three days. I never get stuff here, it's too much of a mess hauling all that on the plane. And I refuse to spend four days driving, so I fly. Pretty stupid, wouldn't you say, to spend all that money flying Thanksgiving and Christmas? I agree. Fun though! It's common knowledge that I just plain don't have good sense!
Was just reading through your letter again. I feel bad that the job isn't going so well anymore. We both know how impossible the public library thing is anymore. Hey, just had a thought (and tried to call you -- do you have a phone?) I know of a public library job in Bremerton, Wash. A friend of mine is leaving her job there to get four months vacation as a school librarian, so her job there, (or lat least some slot there) will be open, at the Kitsap Regional Public Library. You could contact the head, Irene Henninger 1-206-377-3955. Or you could always go back to Montana. People don't seem to last long there, so there's usually a pretty good turnover....(a joke, a joke). Would you like me to let you know if I hear of any PL jobs? Fortunately or unfortunately about the only places I have any contacts are Montana and Western Washington.
As for that piano thing, I'm not very good, although I enjoy it immensely. But then, considering that I've only really been playing since April I'm not too bad (flattering friends insist that I have natural ability). I mark it off an enthusiasm. As for duets, well I do play a mean duet at chopsticks....
As for reading, I go literally months between books these days. Just can't get into it, or much of anything else these days besides TV and my music. Sounds dreadful, don't you agree. I have a bad case of ennui--
My favorite Mae West line is "When I'm good, I'm very, very good, and when I'm bad I'm TERRIFIC." What a marvelous line! The best I can say about my letters is that once I start I just keep going, but I have a hard time starting. In other words, don't wait for me to write, please.
Take cre, and enjoy your Christmas with your family. And we're going to have to make a point of getting together for those duets!
P.S. Please forgive the typing, but you can't blame me for the spelling. I have a poorly educated typewriter.
