The calm before the storm really means I couldn't fully process what was happening and didn't quite know what to think about it. It took me 24 hours to realize that what was happening during the calm between the storms recaps my life and reveals how I came to work here in the first place; in some sort of mysterious route as opposed to a serious career search.
The usual groups of Yu-gi-oh players, graphic novel enthusiasts, and clandestine cellphone video viewers are present. Another regular from the previous year checks in with me to catch me up on her tumultuous family life that combines a very religious family and a parent with some serious issues. She alludes to the parent with difficulties without spelling it out in front of the two other kids sitting at the table because she has told me all about it previously. Religion is mentioned in the conversation, and Beaver Cleaver, who is the self-identified technical geek brings us up to speed on how he also identifies as an atheist.
Meanwhile, another student pulls out some textbooks from her backpack to return them because she is leaving for "k-8" (obviously she hasn't focused too much on the details of the parental decision). I get up to go check in the textbooks, and by the time I get back, the girl who mentioned religion had left.
Probably just as well, because Beaver Cleaver is verifying information with me about STDs, condoms, and spermicides, which I am answering while also letting him know that the Teen Health and Wellness database can provide him with all this information if he ever wants to check it out in the privacy of his home. Earlier in the week, Beaver assured me that he was as innocent as he looked when it came to showing discretion about what video clips he watches on YouTube through his cellphone. Now I'm beginning to wonder, and suspect he is giving me a pop quiz to see if I know as much as his grandmother.
I'm worried about the girl who disappeared about the same time she learned a real live atheist was in the library. My antennae are sensitive to these student feelings in general, and having an atheist mother myself, I am fully aware of their extreme devotion to their own lack of faith and their strong need to share that with everyone.
By the next morning, I realize how I have spent my lifetime dog-paddling among the sharks of agnostics, atheists, Bahai, Baptists, Catholics, Christian Scientists, Lutherans, Mormons, and Russian Orthodox in the family arena of religion. I have managed to navigate between households in the extended family, endure comments made in reaction to my mother and her strong opinions and faux pas on this subject and a bunch of others.
I have kept my mouth shut and sought to be a peacemaker not only among the contentious religions of the world, but have kept my stamina among the Democrats and the Republics, the New Dealers and the Jeffersonian republicans, the rural and the urban, the physicians and the Mary Baker Eddy crowd, the war protesters and the military members, and the Giants and the Dodger fans. I am sure I am overlooking some other oppositional faction of family politics.
At my youngest, I enjoyed watching the rivalry and feuding over the World Series and all the other possible Coliseum entertainments. I even made table place cards for family holiday meals and relished putting the Idaho State police official next to the ex-car thief, waiting to see if something would happen. Great was my disappointment when everyone would just rearrange themselves. As time went by, I began to feel uncomfortable with all the bickering, and came to realize that religious holidays did not exist to get these people back together and talking in the same room. The only things they saw eye-to-eye on were Christmas trees and Easter eggs.
I could work it both ways, however. What better way to rebel against your atheist mother than sneaking off to Mass with your grandmother, who is a kleptomaniac and the mother of two nuns. (I always regretted that confession was a private rite. I really wanted to hear her tell her version to the priest.)
There is always a book to go with any episode of life, and I am not thinking of the Bible, but "Night Flight," by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. This is probably the most influential book in my life, and I remember reading it for the first time as a young adult trying to figure out what my life was all about.
Saint-Exupery tells a story of early commercial mail flights in South America with a theme is finding happiness through fulfilling your duty. I saw it, however, as trying to balance the needs of individual with the importance of community. The book is beautifully written but emotionally difficult, and I am uncomfortable with the much of the thinking and decisions. I do think it did help me decide that reaching adulthood meant being able to figure out who I was and being comfortable with that among all the swimming sharks without feeling like I had to bite them back.
At this juncture, I am still trying to create a community, in the library, and am still taking care of individuals and their feelings who just happen to come together. I don't know all their quirks and beliefs before they show up the way I do with my own family, but I can sense when the sharks might be circling.
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