Journey to Person-hood : Leaving Madison

In 1999, I left Madison, WI, after living there for nearly 10 years in my 20s.

That last week, I attended a lecture with Harold Scheub, The African Storyteller. (He's a frequent guest on Jean Feraca's radio show, Here on Earth : Radio without Borders.) My undergraduate degree was in African Literature and Languages, so I had a particular appreciation for this subject matter, and this particular speaker.

So I got there and sat down. CL was there, too. I sat down, and saw at the front of the room, AS, wicked witch of my undergraduate years. She had been my Yoruba teacher for 2-1/2 years and my adviser for 3 years. I was an A-student except for her classes. She apparently thought I was an moron because I couldn't pick up this language that had absolutely no links to American English. (It'd be like learning Chinese to an American's ears.) She was hard on me in those years--a tormentor. I just tried to muddle through and keep my head down until I could graduate, and be out of her clutches.

This story requires more set-up, so bear with me ... I was accepted into Library School immediately after graduation, but I decided to defer until a later time. I had such a hard time as an undergraduate with my advisor/mentor, that I wanted to re-group and learn to stand up for myself before I embarked on Library School. So I waited 3 years, worked as a clerk in a bank, got my head together, and re-built my self-esteem. I decided to re-apply to Library School in January 1996, and was again accepted without a problem. I was ready. In March, the bank decided to down-size, and my job got the ax. It was probably the best thing that ever happened to me. In July, I got a job working in a hospital library, much more interesting work, making twice as much money as the bank clerk job, in half as much time. And I was learning practical things that applied to my Master's Degree.

Library School started in the fall, and was a totally different experience. It was good--fun. I'd do it all over again. One of my Library School Professors, Anne Lundin, became a good friend. I loved her creative writing assisngments, and her Storytelling class (which counted towards the required (and dreaded) public speaking requirement).

So that last week in Madison, I attended this Harold Scheub-African Storyteller lecture ... and AS is there at the front table. I remember thinking with racing heart, "What do I do? Do I run out the door? ... I hope she doesn't recognize me. I hope she doesn't recognize me. Of all people I wanted to leave behind in Madison, it was her ..." I don't think I heard a single word that Prof. Scheub said in that lecture, though I'm sure it was inspiring--bigger than life--as his lectures always were.

Soon after the lecture began, I noticed Anne Lundin was also there. (She also had a great appreciation for story, remember.) In the Storytelling class one day she had said this :

"Whenever you're in a tough place,
think of yourself as the heroine in a fairy tale.
You'll be journeying through the forest alone.
And there'll be people there to help you along the way,
and who will give you encouragement.
And you'll discover treasures you never knew were there.
This is a precious time."

I have always remembered her saying this, and at that moment, I thought : I can handle this. CL is here at my side; Anne Lundin is here; I'm not the same doormat I was as an undergrad. I had come a long way in those 5-6 years since AS. Even though my legs were shaking at the end of the lecture, my heart was racing, I went up and spoke with Anne. AS was nearby, and fortunately, she did not recognize me anymore--at least she didn't act like she did. And I thought, "That's fine with me. I don't need to waste my time with people who treated me like dirt." I didn't say anything to her either. Story was (and still is) something I am passionate about. Anne Lundin knew me as a good student, knew me as a person, and knew I was already a good Librarian. I didn't have to speak Yoruba to do it.

Going to that last lecture, my last week in Madison, seeing those certain important people in my life come together in the same space at the same time--was the culmination of my 10 years in Madison. Had I learned what I'd gone there to learn? I don't mean academics and degrees. This was the ultimate test in Person-hood. And I felt like I passed. I had finally graduated! I had stood up for myself with grace and poise--thanks to a little help from my friends.

Looking back on that experience, it felt very Wizard of Oz-like. I was seeing my arch-nemesis for a final show-down. There she was : AS, the Wicked Witch of West Africa and Anne Lundin, the Good Witch of Graduate School there to help and support me. CL, as the Lion, Scarecrow, and Tin Man all rolled into one. I guess Harold Scheub was the Wizard.

It was a precious time.

Journeys : Grand Central Station- NYC

This week at my Covenant Group, our topic is Journeys. I've been thinking about Grand Central Train Station in NYC.
In the early 1990s, I had a good wait there before I got on a commuter train for CT to visit my long-time friend J. I remember just loving to sit in that great hall, watching people going by ... Just people in motion on the way FROM somewhere TO somewhere.

Everyone was in motion (except me at that moment), but there were lulls, too. It was like being in a cathedral with that wonderful high ceiling (I think the term is ascension--the architecture lifts you up) and the light and open spaces--except there was no oppression of religion there--none of that baggage. This was a PUBLIC space. This is what America is about, I thought : Co-existence.

I went up/out onto the street to get a bite to eat. That, too, was wonderful--I was amazed at the sheer diversity there : Italians, Greeks, Lebanese, Thai, Vietnamese--so many languages, and cultures, and foods. It was wonderful to see so many 1st generation immigrants selling ethnic foods (the real thing!). I loved it! All the smells, all the accents, all those characters, all those people. I had thought I'd be terrified of being mugged or swindled in NYC, but I was fine.

I know I wrote a letter there, waiting for my next train. I felt renewed having gotten to rest there. The train trip in from Chicago was not at all the comfortable and romantic train ride with beautiful vistas I had imagined it would be. My ticket was coach. It's not at all comfortable to spend the night in one of those coach train seats. Our train car was not designed for overnight trips--but that's where we were. Parts of the track were in need of repair so we couldn't go more than 35 mph for long stretches. Train travel is so different in France and Scotland and Japan! The US has invested in the highway system at the expense of Railways over the years. That trip was a huge disappointment to me--until I saw Gran Central Station!

Last year, I saw an episode of American Experience where they did a whole show on Grand Central Train Station. [You can actually watch it at this link!] I was thrilled to hear that other people felt the same way I did.

[From the AE show:] Rita Gabis: "There's something about Grand Central. There's such an echo of the past there of journey there. It's amazes me still every time I come into the station.

There's the faces of people who are waiting, of people who are hurrying, who are looking forward to where they're going or maybe resigned or tired; strangers to the city or so used to the city they're blind to what's around them.

It's such a beautiful metaphor for all the arrivals and departures that really make up the moments of our lives."