End of the Experiment

Well, I'm thinking it's time to wrap things up here.

I'm not a "share my feelings" person, and I never really have been, except with my wife. I also don't usually tell the people around me what I really think, and for that matter, don't solicit what they think all that often. When I do, I usually find that I was happier when I was alone.

Here is where things stand at the end of this little online book:

I had a long talk with the Minister guy last night. It was informal and friendly, as it always is. I tried to be gracious and receptive, and he was at the very least polite. We talked about a lot more things than I can, or should, write about, so I'll mention two that relate most directly to me. First, he kept trying to make the point that I am "not a scholarhip kid" anymore. I'm not the poor kid, trying to get by in the rich man's world. He seems to misunderstand; I am still a second class citizen, even among many of my "friends." While I am rich by world standards, I'm poor by local ones, and, as we are all reminded every day, some professions are more equal than others.

He also asked me if I understood that among my wealthy church friends, I am a "safe negro." The poor kid, from the tough town, that worked his way up and is now safe to invite over once in a while to sip cognac and tell amusing stories about my home town, hockey fights, etc. Part of me is angry that he mentioned something that hurtful, and part of me understands that he's probably right. At best, I'm an interesting character; the former slave that learned good table manners, and amuses everyone with my very human-like appearance.

And of course, he refused to budge even a little on his insistence that people be pledging in order to participate in some aspects of church life, particularly in voting on anything budget related.

So, I will probably be there a little while longer, but only as long as LullaBelle needs me to be. I am never going to fit in, and don't feel like trying anymore. To extend the Minister's metaphor a little more, this nigger would rather go back to the fields and be with his own. Or be alone. That's ok too.

I love my job. My boss, our group leader, and my colleagues, seem like decent people. They're fun, down to earth, and seem to have reasonable expectations. Most of their quirks are amusing, the work is interesting, and I'm moving forward with spending more and more time with the new group, and a little less with the old one. I hope never to lose touch with the old group (it is part of the new group too, after all), and am cautiously optimistic about the new arrangement. And yes, I will, at some point, be getting paid to play video games, even if just once in a while.

And, of course, hockey. Other than my wife, hockey is my great love. It's one of the few things in my life that I've loved that loved me back. We just put up a hell of a game last week, knocking off the top team 6-3. It was a really good game for us as a team, and I proved that, given the chance, I can come up big. I still have some great games in me, and, if the others do too, our team could have a bright future.

And so, that's it, end of book. Sorry I never finished the sauce stories, or took the big swing at W everyone would like me too. There's too much to God and religion to ever cover it all, and besides, the quote from Micah pretty much says it all.