I took the last train back to Cambridge and was so exhausted that I fell asleep and woke up at Ely, and had to turn back, so that I got in long after midnight. And I felt offended at being gated for what was not, as I thought, my fault. It was the first of the two times I was gated that year.
Shall I follow the circle of the season down into the nadir of winter darkness, and wake up the dirty ghosts under the trees of the Backs, and out beyond the Clare New Building and in some rooms down on the Chesterton Road? When it began to be spring, I was trying to row-in the Clare fourth boat, although it nearly killed me. But at least, since we were supposed to be in training, I got up early for a few weeks and went to the College for breakfast, and went to bed without being too dizzy in the nighttime.
This little Merton selection sort of sounds like he is surrendering, in some way, to the rigors of college life, joining the university's rowing team. Although he isn't much good at it, he still participates in the early-morning practices and conditioning. Because they provide a sense of belonging, I would imagine.
Sometimes all you can do is surrender to life. Usually, that surrender comes after a long and exhausting battle. At some point, you just can't take it any longer. You can only run headfirst into a brick wall so many times before you decide that it's easier to walk around the wall instead. So you wave the white flag and give up.
I am giving up tonight. After a long, exhausting day of conflict, I have decided that I'm tired of brick walls and migraines. My white flag is flying. I will no longer argue the righteous argument. Point out injustices. Try always to do what is right.
Because doing all those things, day after day, wears a person down like an old pencil. Husbanding is hard. Fathering is hard. Working is hard. Working two jobs is harder. Working three or more jobs, in one day, is next-to-impossible.
I am told that I'll get my reward in heaven for the good things I do here on Earth. I'm not so sure it's worth it tonight, because people begin to expect goodness from you all the time. And that, also, is exhausting.
So, put a fork in me, I'm done. Someone else can fight the good fight tomorrow. The only thing on my to-do list is "wake up," and even that is up in the air.
Saint Marty is letting someone else fly the plane for a while. God. Yahweh. Jesus, Buddha. Mohammed. A one-eyed unicorn. Albus Dumbledore. Jay Gatsby. The Church Lady.
