Post by Merced LifeWriting Class on Mar 31, 2009 23:53:01 GMT -8
Tonight, old man, you did it!
You did it! You did it! You said that you would do it,
And indeed you did. I thought that you would rue it;
I doubted you'd do it. But now I must admit it
That succeed you did. You should get a medal
Or be even made a knight.
You did it! You did it! You said that you would do it,
And indeed you did. I thought that you would rue it;
I doubted you'd do it. But now I must admit it
That succeed you did. You should get a medal
Or be even made a knight.
-- My Fair Lady, 1964
[/right]What did I do?
Was it something noteworthy? Was it something silly? Was it something out of character for me? Was it something I’ll rue and need to atone for? Was it altruistic? Was it something satisfying and gratifying? Was it a complete bust?
Well, possibly all of the above and definitely more than one of the above.
Maybe it was silly – as in “dumb;” or maybe silly – as in “funny.” It was definitely impulsive. It was definitely out of character. And it was definitely subject to criticism.
I did it and there aren’t many things I can say to prove it was noteworthy and altruistic and satisfying and gratifying. By the same token I can’t offer evidence that it was a bust – complete or otherwise.
One thing is certain; I can’t claim that I did it out of youthful exuberance, immaturity or a lack of experience or knowledge. No, I didn’t do it when I was a child. In fact I didn’t do it when I was an adolescent. To be honest, I didn’t do it when I was a young adult or even as part of any mid-life crisis. The fact is that I didn’t do it as a middle-aged man.
I did it as a senior citizen – certified by and registered with the AARP.
I didn’t do it so long ago that I can now reflect on my folly and remember only the positive parts. No. I didn’t do it during the 20th Century.
I did it last week.
Oh, you may say. It couldn’t be noteworthy. Who does anything noteworthy in March – particularly after the Ides have come and gone? Well, what I did was noteworthy.
I didn’t get engaged or married, which would also be noteworthy. I didn’t have a baby – noteworthy … and even more so if I literally had a baby! I didn’t join the Peace Corps or win the lottery.
I didn’t come into a fortune or sell my house or join a church or decide to build a boat and sail around the world or become a Republican or sell my novel (not that I’ve written a novel).
All of those acts would qualify as noteworthy in my life. And there are thousands of other things that would also qualify. But if those who know me started guessing, I suspect they’d guess themselves into exhaustion before they guessed what I did.
So, I’ll have to tell you.
And I suppose I will tell you.
But first, let me share an observation. I have discovered that deciding to do it – which took a lot of thought and soul searching and second-guessing and mind-changing and, finally, courage – seems to have been easier than admitting I did it.
Oh things could go wrong. This could eclipse Fulton’s Folly and other debacles of historical proportions. Those who would second guess me and shout, “I told you so” – and there are plenty of them out there, plenty – may have a field day if this doesn’t work out.
Maybe I shouldn’t tell.
No, there’s no way to keep it secret. It’s too big and even though I never have visitors to my house and rarely even get phone calls, it’s only a matter of time before the word gets out.
And if I don’t make the announcement, the news will spread in the form of gossip. I can hear them now: “You’ll never believe what David did.” “How could he do it?” “What was he thinking?” “No wonder he kept it a secret.”
There’s no doubt about it. I must come clean. If I am the one to break this news at least I’ll get to write the lead. There’s sure to be a lot of commentary and alternate versions of the story will no-doubt circulate; but I can make sure that the initial who what where when why and how are accurate.
So here goes, starting with the headline.
How about, “He did it!”?
Well, a good headline should answer some of the most important questions and “He did it” is dramatic, but not particularly informative.
I wonder whether I can find a good picture of myself to go with the news story…
But, I digress…
Where was I?
Oh, yes. I need a subhead. How’s this: “He did it! (subhead) The world will never be the same.”
Perhaps I’m being melodramatic. The story isn’t really newsworthy outside my little circle of family and friends. It might be on page one of the Burke Chronicle newspaper – but the editor would probably put it below the fold – and would no doubt run a two-inch wide mugshot instead of the portrait I found, taken when I was young and fit and …
I think I may still be avoiding the task at hand. I did it and the whole point of this piece is to admit it and … well, and then let the chips fall where they may.
(deep breath)
OK, here it is:
Last week, David Burke invited a 24-year-old woman and her 3-year-old son to share his house in Merced. Burke, who has lived alone for nearly 10 years, hasn’t lived with a preschooler for 25 years.
The mother and son will occupy two formerly empty bedrooms, will have their own bathroom and will share the rest of the house with Burke, who admitted that he hasn’t shared anything with anybody for longer than he can remember.
I know that I have said it,
But I did it
and the credit For it all belongs to me!
But I did it
and the credit For it all belongs to me!