Complex Remembering Scheme

Dear J-

It’s now just down to my last week and I wouldn’t have thought it would have come so quickly but here it is. Me, I’d prefer that nothing change until the very end and that no big deal be made of it but I know they have at least a lunch with my current boss planned and I can’t think of a single awkward thing I’d like to say to him at this point in front of his boss. Worse than that, it’s happening on Fish Taco Friday, my last with Ben and I can’t think of a worse day for it to happen so maybe I’ll ask if Monday next week would work better for them. There’s still nagging residual guilt over disloyalty, after all, and I just don’t know what else I can do to fix that feeling.

It feels like I’ve been down this road before and it’s amazing to think that this is the longest I’ve held a single position at the same desk (which fairly groans under the weight of my debris), five years. I think about my dad who spent thirty years in the same office (with the same filing system as me, too: piles of papers stacked all over, a chair in the corner for me to sit on whenever I visited him) and I wonder if I’ll ever get there or if I’ll ever want to get there. Is stability heaven or hell, in other words, right? Depends on what part of your life you’re talking about.

I’ve gotten comfortable to the point of contempt, almost, in my current job. What I mean is I’ve become resistant to suggestion: am I doing this right? I get defensive and shell-up into a ball of hate: of course I am. How dare you question me. Do you know who I am? And far be it for me to turn into the prima donna that I always knew I could be: it’s not easy but I want to stay hungry and interested and this is the right thing to do right now. I dread the unsettled schedule but I’m confident our family can weather it, though I wonder what happpens on the other side of twenty years from now: broken or better?

Mike

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Big Move

Dear J-

So as part of the absurdly lpremature plan to move I did a teeny bit of research on the real estate situation in Urbana; assuming that we sell the house for close to what we paid we shouldn’t have a problem getting into one of the older neighborhoods if we wanted. Well, I suppose that as it is we’re in an older neighborhood but what I mean is we can actually get into one of the desireable neighborhoods, school-wise. That might be the way to go, as ideally, theVet would get into the program and I could get a job nearby (one of the first things I researched was the proximity to a nuclear plant) and life would be good, right? Good schools, quiet town, good jobs.

It has enflamed me, though; I keep wondering if going back to school might be an option for both of us. Granted there’s no more useful degrees for me to get in engineering (the PhD would serve only to make me unmarektable as far as a private job goes, and I’m not sure that I have enough time to start teaching and be able to retire) and I don’t think that they’d want to have the impatient me running a lab or teaching kids. Still, though, the passion that theVet speaks about changing our lives has. Fallen off a bit in the past week as it’s been difficult to get any information about their residency program, and she’s left with more questions than answers aside from what’s stated (three year commitment, applications due in January or July).

I like to think the long game even when it may not be appropriate: then what? What comes next? After three years do we head back to San Diego? Somewhere in California? Is this the sort of job that would be portable enough to take anywhere you want? Do we stay in the midwest? I guess really the first question to ask is if she really wants this, and I believe she does but is getting frustrated with the lack of answers and intimidated by the thought of moving everything, but you have to take everything one bite at a time: it is hard, it would be hard to move but it can be done, and the kids are at an age where they’re flexible enough to go anywhere, though that window may be shrinking.

Mike

Job Changes

Dear J-

I’ve been thinking more about our proposed move to Illinois and it surely seems that the sooner the better at least as far as the kids are concerned, though we do have a ton of things tying us to San Diego: the house and our income. Everything else can be replaced at other places, and being that they’re not in school at the moment the change wouldn’t be too bad. I remember every year how my parents would propose to move us closer to the store in Spokane so we’d say goodbye to our friends every June, only to surprise them by being back in September.

I would have to find another job but really, what’s tying me to this industry or this company besides a misguided sense of loyalty? I’m sure that I’m appreciated and I’m really good at what I do, but that was the case the last time we made a big move from Davis to San Diego, ten years ago, and while the work in Sacramento I wasn’t sure I’d make a career out of, this power utility business I think I could keep doing until I retired if I wanted to. So what do I want? (This is a question, by the way, that gets asked a lot in the family, usually in an exasperated tone as figgy yells out from her room after bedtime that something else is needed — covers tucked in, water, potty, stuffed animals arranged just so).

The nature of the work is secondary to the people I’ll be working with. While cleaning out my desk I ran across a chart I’d made of the organization I hired into: of those twenty or so people there’s five left after only five years (and that’s counting myself). You can either be fulfilled in what you do or who you do it with and right now I’m working six days a week chasing paper around. Primarily, though, the reason that Urbana seems so enticing is because of theVet: the way she’s talked about what she’d be doing and how animated she gets let’s me know that this is something she’s thought about and clearly wants, and I can facilitate her chasing that dream, so yeah, I’m flexible and portable enough that we can make it happen. Question now is whether we’d ever be back.

Mike

Mountain Man

Dear J-

Pretty mellow Sunday today, after some brief morning excitement (we continue to ignore the need for Mother’s Day reservations and trust restauranteurs who insist that so long as we get there at opening, we shouldn’t have any trouble getting seated: this is how you anger customers) we all came back home and had some cake (here I was set up by my niece, who asked if there was whip cream on it; upon replying affirmatively and enthusiastically, I was told that she didn’t like whip cream, thus the cake was a flop with at least one of us). I’m now aware of the power of peer pressure — figgy had happily eaten strawberries in cake before being told that strawberries were yucky, and now that’s it for that particular fruit for the moment, at least.

It’s hard enough to convince her that we’re not conducting cruel and unusual experiences when giving her something besides the usual meat and starches (and I suppose we’re relatively lucky as it is with the eating of meats), but I suppose the key is in making it fun and tasty — some things are easier than others, like corn versus broccoli. She’s already gotten some things engrained on her mind: curry rice, ramen noodles, coconut, mango, and chicken crackers are all reliable keys to the castle. Where we are is conducive to certain types of cuisine, and we do take advantage of the opportunities it presents.

At the end of this particular Mother’s Day we end up taking stock of where we are this year and how far we’ve come. Yet all the changes have been not at the pace we dictate, but the schedule she allows; it’s an object lesson in stubborn wills and immovable objects. And a year from now, who knows where we’ll be on the second Sunday in May? Is it worth worrying about? We shape, we guide, but we can’t push her on the tracks any more than we can move mountains overnight.

Mike