Social Strata

I have identified another reason why I will never move up into the social upper crust.

Read an article, somewhere on this World Wide Web, the gist of which is that in higher society it is perfectly normal to invite old intimate friends to weddings. That is, the previous significant others, maybe from your whole life, are apt to be in the pews when you marry the new guy. His previous loves are just as likely to be there. At the reception everyone hugs or air kisses or whatever the currently acceptable greeting has become. One of the reasons cited for this capability is that the upper crust is such a small group that if you started eliminating all of everyone's "exes" there wouldn't be anyone left with whom to party.

I have forgiven almost everyone who ever dissed me, left me or broken my heart, and friends who have turned out not to be friends after all.

But here's where I stand on all of this. I live in mortal terror of the inevitable e-mail or phone call from someone who feels obliged to fill me in on the nuptials, pending or otherwise, of the man I adore who does not adore me. I don't want to know ... I don't want to know if she is young, beautiful, rich, smart or precious. I am pretty sure he thinks I should be introduced to her so that I will be able to see right off the bat why he chose her over me. All I know is that he did.

I don't dwell on it. I am actually getting through some days without re-playing the lines of the e-mail.

But I'm not going to any events where I might encounter them. Ain't doin' no "air kisses." Its not a matter of who she is or what she has. It is entirely a matter of who I am and what or whom I do not have.

So there is more to the social strata than just wealth and education ... there's my inability to pretend. I don't pretend very well.

I'm fine. I keep very busy. I have wonderful friends and I live in a great little town. (I do see some similarities to high-society and small town society, folks are interrelated in ways I never encountered in a city of four million) but I'm learning to keep my mouth more shut and my mind more open.

But there are still some places and some functions where you will not find me. I don't play games at all well and I can't pretend to be glad to see somewhat whom I'm not glad to see.

On the one hand ...

I am a grateful person, good family and good friends, a good new job with good people. I thank the Lord every day for all my bounty. I am in fine health and still find people who are surprised at my age. I love my church, my cool little town and Spring in Texas. I almost always have some adventures to look forward to ... like the Conjunto Festival, another trip to Gulf Shores, Tyler for a play, a park or a new grocery store trip with the kiddos, or just a walk at Washington on the Brazos.
Why would anyone complain about a life like mine?

Because, on the other hand, I keep thinking something is missing. For almost thirty years now I have wondered why I am alone. Then there were those three years where there actually was someone, sorta. Now, I have had some very specific ideas from friends and family, why I am alone. Some of them are not so nice ... apparently I am not the most patient, positive person on the planet. But, I sure see a lot of ladies who are even less so but have a man beside them, loving and providing.

Maybe I am cut out to be a "Sister of perpetual loneliness" ... you know, at a convent (in a lovely tropical country, with fresh fruit and birds singing in the trees). I know I am "half-gypsy" ... got that from my Dad. ...didn't get bad lungs, alcoholism (though I was a carrier) or anquished depression from him ... but I do love to travel, drive the long roads, find places I think I would rather be, live.

I give some thought to buying a "final house" here in Navasota. At least I would if someone would put a nice little bungalow on the market. I miss grass and trees and birds to feed. Not sure I miss mowing, broken water heaters and loud dogs in the neighborhood.

So, back to "on the one hand" and "on the other hand." I must be terminally indecisive. That is until I make another wacky decision.

There are the undeniable facts: I am 70 years old. I will always have to work. It is great to live in a small town (when you can find work) because it is easy to get around, know people and spend less to live. So, this is a good place for me to be.

But, on the other hand, I think about the beach in lower Alabama, the mountains in New Mexico, and the cities and states still on my bucket list and the wanderlust nips at my accelerator foot.

Maybe the fact that I finally qualified enough frequent flyer miles on Continental and know that I can "go somewhere" is the operator at work in this week's musings. I've always said I wanted to see Vienna but on the other hand, the British Isles have a serious hold on my memory.