Less Than

I was reminded again today of one of my favorite movies, You’ve Got Mail, and lines written by the protagonist, Kathleen Kelly: “Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life – well, valuable, but small – and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven’t been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn’t it be the other way around? I don’t really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So good night, dear void.”
I, too, used to question my life. So many people I know have traveled extensively, held exciting jobs, met famous people. My life has been a rather simple one. I used to tell people I was like Helen Crump, Sheriff Andy’s girlfriend on The Andy Griffith Show because she was a school teacher who taught in the town she lived in. I haven’t been at this for all that many years, but for most of them I lived in the town I taught in, at the high school I attended and which my three children did as well. Not exciting stuff, but it had a charm that appealed to me. I believe in roots and I was part of the roots of Keyport. My own roots were there and my kids’ roots, too. And I provided a kind of roots to my students. I grew up in Union Beach, one town over, and have lived in but three towns my whole life. Despite this, or maybe because of it, I am a functioning adult and I consider myself to be pretty happy.
I have always been the kind of person that needs a solid home base from which to wander. I have told my students that I think we all have that need for a home to go to, wherever or whatever that might mean. I think we all need a place to get away from the outside world, at least for a little while. When I was raising my children, my husband traveled for business almost every week. My children needed their own solid home base and I was the one that kept the home fires burning and the household running. My important work at that time was raising my children and they remain my best work till this day. I was so involved in PTA and Mother’s Club, shuttling kids to sports and activities, that I had no time to wonder about my life. What could be better than spending time with my kids, my favorite people in the world? I read, sewed, and did crafts which gave me a creative outlet. I know some think this is just small potatoes and that I missed out on experiences, but I never felt that way. I considered myself lucky to be able to squeak by financially so my kids could have their mom at home. Gone are the days when this is possible. I was one of the last of the lucky stay-at-home moms.
Years ago, one of my favorite books was Barbara Taylor Bradford’s A Woman of Substance. I will need to find a copy of that to read again as I have little recollection of what it was about except that the term “woman of substance” has stuck with me for oh these many years. I have never been able to be shallow or vapid even if those things would have made me appealing to others. I expect I have always been serious about things and not taken things lightly. It is, alas, a double-edged sword. Were I more shallow, I imagine I wouldn’t deign to address the fact that I get a vibe from others that I am “less than” because my life has been different from theirs.
I have not traveled extensively – my trip to Paris was a once-in-a-lifetime trip and I may never be able to travel to Europe again. Material things have never mattered enough to me to sacrifice other parts of my life. I have made choices to do things which I considered the most important things to me in my life at that time. If I had the means to travel as well as stay home with my kids that would have been delightful. I guess I was never willing to leave my kids on a daily basis so I could travel for a week in the summer. Some can do both; I had to choose.
When I ask my students to make their Bucket Lists, I sometimes think I should add some exotic things to mine, but my wants are few. I most want to never feel “less than” for being who I am. As I age, I have become more comfortable in my own skin. Like Popeye, I am who I am but sometimes I just get annoyed enough to feel like I have to justify my existence, then I am annoyed with myself for feeling that way.
My students are writing their Senior Memoir and the first chapter is “Who Am I?” Some are struggling to respond to that query in about 500 words. They often come up short. I do understand. Part of that is our societal conditioning to not say good things about ourselves for fear others will think we are bragging. Sometimes, we just don’t feel like there is much to say or much that we want to tell others. In our heart of hearts, we may have an answer that we don’t much like. At this point in time, I have made peace with many of my quirks and most don’t bother me. I am less open with people because I don’t have a need to share too much of myself. It became wearisome explaining myself and my choices to others. This irony is not lost on me that I am explaining myself, justifying myself, defending myself, albeit in writing and not to those who question my value.
Kathleen Kelly’s questions shall remain, unanswered, in the void. “Good night, dear void.”