April 10: Old Guard, 24 Years, Baaa-d Fairy Tale

Ives and Freeman were two of the more respectable higher-ups.  "Family men," whom the slightly looped secretaries tended to praise to death at these parties, for their gentlemanly natures and fidelity to their wives.  With thirty-nine years at the agency between them (seventeen for Ives and twenty-two for Freeman, who had started at the agency just after graduating from Yale in 1945), they, in their forties, represented something of the composed and more refined "old guard."

Ives is a faithful man.  Faithful to his church, family, wife, and job.  He struggles, as any person does.  His relationship with his wife is strained to the breaking point after the murder of their son.  He questions God's benevolence and becomes a little distant with his daughter, as well.  At work, Ives becomes distracted by his overwhelming grief, talking to cleaning ladies about heaven.  Yet, Ives remains a loyal and true father, husband, employee, and child of God.

Tonight, I received an e-mail from a colleague at the university.  Next Tuesday is the faculty recognition luncheon.  As part of the proceedings, and to make those attending aware of the contributions of contingent instructors, a flyer is going to be circulated at the luncheon.  The flyer will list contingents who have been teaching at the university ten or more years.  My name is at the top of that list.  Twenty-four years of service.  Close to half my life.

That makes me both proud and a little depressed.  I'm proud because I know I've done good work as a teacher.  I've helped students and made lives better.  I'm depressed because I'm a part-time instructor with no benefits or security.  A new contract every semester.  Very little has changed in those 24 years.  Yet, I'm like Ives.  Loyal to the end, regardless of trials and setbacks.  I believe in what I do.

That probably sounds pretty old-fashioned, but that's the way I was raised.  Work hard.  Love unconditionally.  Do whatever you need to do to provide for your family.  That's the way I live my life.

Once upon a time, a man named Alphonse worked as a shepherd all his life.  He loved what he did.  At the age of 117, Alphonse slipped on some sheep shit, fell down a hill, and broke his neck.

Moral of the story: shit happens.

And Saint Marty lived happily ever after.

Watch your step!