Random musings … or, mental clutter of the happily retired

I’ve been collecting a pile of assorted musings that is getting unmanageable, and it’s time to unload some of them.

So, I interrupt this tour of my assorted volunteer gigs to bring you a change of pace. I know you were anticipating tales of Rachel Maddow this time, given my teaser last time. But sometimes, I gather stuff in my mind—funny things, odd things, things that pique my curiosity, things that shake my understanding of the world—and I need to unload it occasionally. So, this blog is now my unloading dock, where I can lay these things out for inspection, yours and mine.

Some of these are totally without substance, just matters of  curiosity that are fun to share. For instance … Yesterday, I took my walk in the local shopping mall because the weather outside was frightful. I slopped and slid my way from my car to the mall and arrived wet footed. The crowds were sparse (see “weather outside” above), so I was doing a bit of people watching without fear of collision. I noticed a young couple walking in front of me, also just coming in from outside. File this one under “Proper footwear for snowy, slushy, icy days”: the guy was wearing flip-flops, and the woman had on spike heels. I had only one thought. Why?

Some of my musings are about the world and the folks in it. Like this … Recently, I spent some time in the town library, where I had a chance to watch the librarian, a woman of about my age, past middle age for sure. I was thinking about how very much libraries have changed in recent years/decades. Card catalogues (remember those?) were replaced long ago by computerized catalogues, and those by online search engines. But the goal was still to locate printed material—including, often, books that sat on shelves somewhere. Now there are a million ways to find information, and a million forms that information might take. A smaller and smaller slice of that information is in books that sit on shelves. In this small town library, I saw very few books and a whole lot of computer terminals. The folks who were there were mostly staring at a screen rather than scanning the shelves.

So, imagine how much a librarian’s work has changed. Yet, here was this woman, old enough to recall (at least from her childhood) card catalogues. Old enough to have entered her field well before computers commandeered libraries. How much did she have to re-learn? How hard was that for her? How exciting was it? How is it to provide help to youth who grew up on computers? Might this be a second career that she entered because she loved what libraries have become? Or was this a life-long occupation, and she chose, by will or by necessity, to stick with it even as it changed almost beyond recognition? I wonder about these things.

Or, here’s a very cool window on cultural differences. I have a friend who just visited Asia. During her time there, she came to realize that in many Asian cultures, the main course of a "good" meal is rice (or sometimes bread). Other dishes—like fish, eggs, vegetables, etc.—are considered "side dishes," sort of trimming for the main course, rice. I find this fascinating! What we take as “side dishes” are the most important part of the meal in these cultures. I'm not talking here about whether rice should be considered a main course. Just observing that it is absolutely, unquestionably the main dish for many people. For our part, we would be equally certain that fish and eggs are main dishes and that rice or bread is a side dish. We might even have some quick and firm judgments about these folks’ perspective on what counts as a "good meal." And I imagine they would consider our choices equally misguided. Just think, I said to myself, if our assumptions about rice are so different, what else might we be missing?

Then, sometimes I find myself surprised by what goes on my own mind. Here’s an example … On a recent walk, I passed a home with two rainbow windsocks flying from the back porch. I’ve seen this house before, but have never seen anyone there. I’ve taken the windsocks as a sign that LGBTQ people live there (not certain, but likely). On this particular day, sitting on the porch near the rainbow windsocks was a rather large, silver-haired man.

My instant befuddlement alerted me to a gremlin in my own mind. My (unwanted, unbidden, unwelcome) stereotypes had just been tweaked. I had completely imagined that this home belonged to two gay men, who would obviously (because they were gay men) be young and totally buff. I had no room for the man I saw. Of course, I have no idea who this man was, including whether he lives there or whether he is gay. The important thing to me was my surprise. I have done a whole lot of thinking about stereotypes, and I like to believe that I had this one, at least, pretty well managed. But here it was. On some level, hidden just beneath my righteous hostility toward stereotypes and people who hold them, here was mine, looking me right smack in the eye. I smiled to myself then. I like catching myself in those moments. It reminds me that I still have work to do—and I’m glad when I notice that I do.

And finally, another senseless bit of humor … Back in the mall, I was striding along, pretty oblivious to the Christmas music playing over the loudspeakers. And then one line caught my attention. The song was “Little Drummer Boy,” which is actually a lovely song and a sweet story. The song was telling us how the little drummer boy asked permission to play for the baby Jesus. Then it goes, “Mary nodded ... The ox and lamb kept time …” I smiled out loud. The ox and lamb kept time? Really? Isn’t that a great visual? Tapping their hooves in time to the beat, maybe nodding their heads with the music? I love it!