The Ladies who Dine

Ladies Who Dine

Lucinda Sloan

4:30. It is dinner time. It is the worst of times, it is the best of times. We usually sit together at the same table. Why? As one of us said, “it’s like always picking the same stall in women’s bathrooms”.

None of the women at the table are really alike but we are polite, kind and funny. I am sure that none of us would have become friends in the real world. But now we are in the same world, as opposed to the real world where we never would have met. This world is actually like a dorm for ‘independent living’ adults. What I like the most about my dorm is that I can always shut the door.

We are happy and sad, highly educated or glad to have finished high school, well-off or holding on, scared or accepting. This list of dualities is extensive. However, we don’t dwell on these differences. To dwell on them would only make everyone’s life miserable. I can hear the comments and questions: “Did you not want to go to college. I am so glad my husband made a good living so I can afford one of the largest rooms. Well, I think that all women should have a career they can fall back on when the babies are grown. Did it bother you to half to clean other people’s home?” Though seemingly innocuous at their core they are judgmental. When I think of actual dorm life, where I am living is not very different at all. We all know exactly what happens when “she’s so different” begins to take over conversations. Most of us have matured and are no longer catty but there are moments when the claws come out. Most of us experienced the horrors of gossip and learned from the experience, so we don’t say what is really on our minds.

Our happiness and sadness commingle. Which one takes precedence is up to us individually. Sadness exists in each of us, often very near the surface. At dinner one night we agreed that suffering is unavoidable in life. So sadness can’t be avoided, but we can make our own happiness.

Having a communal dinner is a source of happiness for most of us, for many of us it is the best time of day. No fuse over a meal we don’t want and have clean it up afterwards. I am delighted by the wonderful desserts and knowing that people are glad to see me makes me feel like sitting down and eating. I am out of my room amongst nicely dressed and clean humanity. The early hour isn’t early enough for many people. By 4:00 people are sitting in the living room area waiting to go in. I know this isn’t funny, but it reminds me of cows being called home for milking. We go in single file and find our places. One can almost hear the moos of contentment.

There is also comfort in familiarity. One lady is always there first, one orders first, one can never hear what is going on, one always complains about the food, one never comes until after Jeopardy, and I always order dessert. We realize that eating is much better with friends than eating alone. We share our memories, those we can remember. Although we all differ in our life histories, what we share makes us laugh and cry.

Empathy is one of the most important things we can foster since we have grown to care about each other. If one of us isn’t at dinner, we go to the room and knock on the door to see if she is okay. We can bring a piece of cake and ask if they need anything else. When I had a tooth pulled and couldn’t eat one friend brought me a root beer float so I could have something pleasant in my mouth other than the gauze. One time we were all sure that one of the women was in some kind medical emergency so we called the staff and got a nurse to take her blood pressure and call her son. I like to believe that this is what we would do ‘out in the real world’ but I am not so sure. People do walk pass a person lying on the sidewalk bleeding.

But as rich as these experiences can be I needed something more. What I yearn for is a day that is different. A day that somehow is meaningful in that I feel a sense of accomplishment, excitement, and include productive activity. The years I was teaching provided me with these. When I look back on these times, I didn’t think of them as meaningful. It was work, doing what I was trained to do, doing what I loved amidst the arguments between petty colleagues, spats at home, and being so tired that I could barely talk or stand. Now I realize I was doing the things that defined me, gave me direction, and most importantly, meaning in life. I am yearning for a life that no longer exists.

A dear friend had joked with me one day when I was not in my usual jovial mood. “There is always more tunnel at the end of the light”. Funny yes, but in reality, true and depressing. I needed a journey what would not take me to the light and get out of the grey, cold tunnel. What I yearned for I had to find within myself. I had to find the light it wasn’t going to come to me.

I began by having compassion for those I ate with. Empathy was not enough because empathy required no action on my part. Rather than irritation with a friend because of a sour face, I realized there was a reason for their grouchiness. So instead of sitting there breathing deeply and releasing all my “negative thoughts” I asked what was wrong and hoped to do something for her. These women were not family, so I had to be careful what I said or suggested. There was no longer saying “I think your attitude in this meeting is inappropriate” and then hope that the backlash wasn’t a set of nasty emails or phone calls. Of course I didn’t learn from those experiences. Maybe it had to do with somehow getting some kind of recognition or power that words like that would surface and pass through my lips. It was always the wrong kind of recognition though.

I started taking small gifts to give to the women dinning with me. I also took show and tell things, like a rare book. Sharing the beauty with them and talking about what was beautiful really did help. I always remember Dostoevsky statement “Beauty will save the world”. I might not be saving the world but I was saving dinner. These things worked but adjusting my attitude was much more difficult. There are only so many gifts I could give and only so many rare objects I could bring.

I also needed to think of dinner as something other than filling my mouth and stomach. There was a scene in movie that impacted me greatly. Two adult friends who had fallen away from each other saw each other after some time had passed. They shook hands and one, as a way of trying to mend the relationship said: “I think we have broken bread together at one time”. For the man, who was Jewish, mealtime was sacred. Yes, eating dinner and breaking bread was a sacred event. Even Jesus sat down for a meal with the man who would betray him. Now that is a role model. This time together can be sacred and blessed. The hours of our days slip away and we, metaphorically, or at least I, see the light.

I could not change any of the women, but I could change. So, what if the food wasn’t always from ‘Bon Appetit’, none of us were starving. If we did starve it was our own fault. If I sat at a different table they would think I was shunning them. This change in seating arrangements was a tricky thing and took some courage.

One always hears ‘little acts of kindness’ are important but for whom? Me or the women. Over time they began to be important and life changing for me. I was more peaceful than I ever remember being. The journey into compassion was changing me. Plato said “Know Thyself”, but if the self is changing do I really know who I was? Perhaps kindness lurks in all of us. Maybe kindness and goodness have to be brought forth by ourselves if we are to be changed and make our garden grow as Voltaire would advocate. A beautiful garden inspires most people to do a little more in their own garden.

The yearning has not stopped because this journey never ends. New doors were appearing in the tunnel that I could open freely and sometimes even easily. Freedom took on new meaning. I had freedom to think, be kind, smile, study, share and most importantly I did not need to depend on others to keep the journey alive. It was up to me. I was learning that meaning includes little things such as a returned smile, a small gift in the mailbox, tears in friends when they understood Bach, poetry, and art. The list for me grows every day, but I still yearn. To get what I yearn for is up to me to find and take hold of.