Social Class Reproduction

Four Rules for Teaching Writing:
Image result for image: joy of writing
Always give writing assignments that

1. you will enjoy reading;
2. students will enjoy writing;
3. students will enjoy reading what others in the class have written
4. you will enjoy writing.

If any one of these conditions were not true, then it probably wasn't a very good assignment.

Advice I give to my students: When your words surprise you, you know you are writing.

Sunday, October 7, 2018

The Art of Being Alone

Being single is interesting. In the early years after Sarah died, I was a bit embarrassed about being single, like when going to a movie, a dance, a party, a restaurant, a bar. Not having a partner—a date. As if no one would have me. After seven years of being alone, I’ve gotten into being single. I like to eat in a restaurant alone. It’s hard to describe, but I like to advertise that I’m okay with being alone. I can go the rest of the way by myself.
Of course, I am not by myself. I have Lola, my dog, my most constant companion. We love each other. I recently wrote a song for her: “When I look in your mind, that’s what love is.” I also have two wonderful children and four equally adorable grandchildren. And more friends than I can count. But still, there is something about not having a partner.
I wonder what it is. I’ll skip the sex issue. I wonder why some of us (certainly me, who was used to being a couple) shrink from being alone. It takes courage to face life alone. This requirement of courage has been understudied. People commit suicide when they find themselves in the wilderness. Durkheim described it as anomie, not being heard. Certainly, the desire to have a partner has something to do with language, being a linguistic biped, as Burke more or less called us.
I realize I am confused here. I am merging singleness with social isolation. Maybe I’m equating being partnered with social acceptability. You are not ok when you’re alone. In high school, it was so uncool to not have someone with whom you could dance. 
I thought I was going somewhere with this post, but I find that I’m not. I was nodding toward the ideology of partnership, of procreation, but I can’t get there. Something is missing. I suspect it would announce itself if I were to fall in love. I suppose what I’m asking is why we need love? I know that being in love is wonderful: I’ve been there. I still am, in a way, because I’m in love with Lola. But welcoming love and needing love are not the same thing. 

2 comments:

  1. I agree with you. (Hey, how about that!) Facing life on one’s own does take courage, a special kind of courage. Lots of reasons come to mind… The one I think about the most is about living without that extra sense of protection and security most of us feel when we have a loving partner. Love is like having a big comfy cushion against life’s hard knocks. If we’re in a loving relationship, it’s just easier to take risks, knowing that there’s always someone there to console us and to love us anyway, no matter how badly we may have screwed up. On the other side of that coin, when we have something to celebrate, it’s just so much nicer to share our pleasure with someone who really cares about our success. Yes, friends and family are happy for us when something good happens, and that’s wonderful… but it’s just not the same. Only a life’s partner can truly feel what we’re feeling right along with us – probably because he/she is vested in the outcome. (Our wins are usually their wins too.) And there’s nothing lonelier (from my experience) than jumping up and down for joy all by myself. EEM

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  2. E: I like that jumping up and down for joy all by myself!. For me, that's a little bit like singing when I'm the only one hearing me (well, Lola hears me, and she usually either whines or runs away). It is wonderful to be in love and have a partner. But death comes knocking (the title to one of Sarah's storybooks), and there we are, having to find a new way of living, cultivating autonomous feedback. Same is true about writing--well, at least for me.

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