Grandma Is Here

There are more fools in the world than there are people.

Heinrich Heine
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So yesterday URLAI, after careful analysis of my journal, which lasted about 5 seconds, determined that "vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com is probably written by a female somewhere between 66-100 years old. Her writing style is personal and happy most of the time." Well they got the age range right and I hope that I am happy most of the time, but they messed up just a little bit about the gender. It reminds me that somewhere on the Internet it lists me as "the actress who played Gus."

Furthermore they claim that the overwhelming number of readers to my blog are old females. Take that Ken, Mark, Bill, Charles, George, Stuart, Bruce, Marty, Patrick, David (if I left out your name don't fuss).

So now I know who I am, at last, a sweet old lady who writes happy little personal entries in her journal. Just call me Granny.

The great lesson here is how absurd it is to try to categorize people, to put labels on folks, to standardize and create sameness. Even a bunch of ferns in a field are slightly different from each other and we are much more intensely complicated than ferns.

What's even worse is that when a person has difficulty understanding himself (and who doesn't) the label very often prompts him to behave in a certain way because those around him wearing the same label are behaving that way. After all, it's the courteous thing to do, they say.

I have suffered the abuse of having teachers, critics and others describe me to myself and the world in simple pithy statements of character and opinion. If I try to rebut, my remarks are met with a smirk. Everyone thinks they can figure other people out in an instant by making a quick comparison. Well "comparisons are odorous" as Shakespeare said. It's foolishness.

While it is a good thing to be proud of one's heritage and ancestry, I'm for removing the political, religious, ethnic and national labels from people and letting their true character shine, unobstructed and unfettered to any preconceived notions, good or bad, of their traditions and propensities.

I realize that this attitude comes from my Beatnik days and a lot of people don't agree with me. That's okay. But I still feel having to put down on a form your race, age, gender, religion, national origin and (soon probably) your sexual preference in order to apply for something is a moral cobweb.

I remain faithfully yours, the old lady who writes Vagabond Journeys.
DB
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SUMMER QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)

Who are the 2 (two) most important people alive today? Why?

Only 8 responses so far. Summer is about to close her gates. Get with it. Don’t be left out in the heat.

dbdacoba@aol.com

Thank you.
DB
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Questionable Qualifications 4/21/09

You should always look your best, because someday, when you least expect it, you may meet yourself.

DB The Vagabond
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I hope all is well.
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It often seems to me that I've spent most of my life being defined and described by other people. Family members knew me to be one way, my teachers another, colleagues another, critics another. That is an awful lot of hats to wear, especially since none of them fit my head. The worst part of it is that I tried, as most young people do, to be the person they described me as, and in those rare moments when my real self oozed through the cracks, I disappointed them.

Isn't it odd how people have to tuck others into nice cozy boxes with labels on them? And isn't it even odder that we let them do it? The result is a giant cover up. One can spend a lifetime trying to believe he is what other people say he is. One can adopt attitudes, behavior, opinions, even careers and life styles trying to conform to a fiction.

The human being is an infinitely complicated creature. There are no two alike. And yet when we become even the slightest bit self-aware we find it hard to believe that any one else is as complex as we are. And that's an easy mistake to make if the other person is only acting out a role he thinks is assigned to him.

I'm amused when I read that the critics are unanimous in their praise of some rising star, knowing that in three years or so that star will be a footnote. Or if he remains on the scene the media will be prying into his private life trying to come up with some way of defining him. Even though I was only a minor league celebrity I had the same label pasting put on me. A few times in my career I received a standing ovation from a large audience after my performance, which was very appreciated. But I knew there was at least one person, not standing, who didn't like it.

I've been labeled a realist, an idealist, a humanist, a socialist, a religionist, a classic, an eccentric, a traditionalist, a failure, ignorant, too sensitive, impractical, foolhardy, a dreamer, a loser, a liar, a genius, undependable, irrational, a joker, a loner, sarcastic, stupid, a leader, a curmudgeon, a betrayer, egotistical, awe inspiring.

What am I? The answer is: None of the above. I am a human being. And I am more complicated than I will ever possibly know. I have spent many unhappy hours struggling to squirm out of one or another of those boxes. But one of the advantages of growing older is that one can more freely throw off the labels, like leaves of a cabbage, to get to the heart. Yes, it gets harder, because some of the lower layers have been there for a long time.. But with each discarding of some false category that I have found myself believing in, I get closer to the real man. I sincerely hope that some day soon I will meet him.

DB - Vagabond Journeys
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May you have glee today.
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