What haven't I told you?
I let the
first
U.S. punk compilation slip out of my hands. Album
cover from Rate
Your Music.
Jean of
Jean’s Musings
– a lovely blog that
I recommend highly – has passed a meme my way, a
request to list five things that you might not
know about me. Given how much I’ve revealed here,
that’s a tall order, but I think I can dredge up
some obscure facts.
*I once had a Secret
security
clearance. The think tank I worked for
did a lot of work for the defense department and
the library was responsible for the classified
document collection. Getting the clearance was
nerve-wracking, as was the proximity to potential
national secrets. It was a relief to leave it
behind.
*I have never seen an episode of the television show
Friends.
*Punk music was the soundtrack of my life for a long
time. I knew my now-husband was a good match after we
watched a movie that included the song Viva Las
Vegas. As we were leaving the theater I told him
“Every time I hear that song I …” He finished the
sentence, “think of the Dead
Kennedys version?” That’s right. Ahh,
love.
*I got my license at 25 (or was that 26?), but
I don’t
drive.
You wouldn’t want me to. Trust me.
*Despite a lifelong allergy to cats, I have never
lived without at least one kitty, except for a brief
pet-free period in graduate school. They are worth
the asthma, the itchy eyes, the mounds of tissues.
An extra fact: I’ve got some recipes in the Nov/Dec
issue of Vegetarian
Times,
along with a short profile in the contributers
column. Go to your newsstand or local library and
take a look. I'll be putting up more information
on the Food Writing
section soon.
If you have your own five facts, I'd love to read
them.
And for your listening pleasure, Viva Las Vegas!
Seven facts
Instead of passing it along, I offer it up to anyone who would like to participate.
7 FACTS about
Jennifer
1 - WORK: I was a reference
librarian for about ten years, first for a state
legislative agency, then for a Washington, DC-based
think tank, and finally for
the U.S.
Senate.
Four years of working 40-50 hour weeks in a
basement paging through Congressional
Records, locating report language, and watching
C-SPAN with my colleagues for the laughs led to
disillusionment and burnout. (Note: There is
really much more to being a reference librarian at
the Senate Library than that, but an exhaustive
listing of what we did would bore most readers). I
quit to go to culinary school.
Took a detour to be a stay-at-home mother and
freelance writer. 2 - EDUCATION: After one
false start, I received a bachelors in philosophy, a
masters in library science, and a certificate from a
culinary school. My first college experience was
about drinking; my second, about thinking, my third,
about getting a job, and my fourth about taking a
chance while I still could.
3 - FRIENDSHIP: When I do make a friend, it is
generally for life (even when I am not good at
keeping in touch). I’m still figuring out how to make
connections as a reserved person without a
traditional working life in a place I don’t know very
well, since we’re still fairly new to Northern
Californa. It isn’t easy, but I am getting there. I
don’t need a posse, just a few confidants.
4 - RELATIONSHIPS: My second husband and I have been
married five years as of last Saturday, and have been
together for ten. After a tough 2007, we’re in a good
place now. Happy belated anniversary, honey!
5 - WWW: The Internet was just taking off when I was
in graduate school. I remember becoming quite
engrossed in the usenet groups. Gopher -- a kind of
menu-driven WWW -- was the hot technology during my
first library job. It’s a totally different world
now. Completely addictive, too, especially now that I
am blogging.
6 - FITNESS: Run 3x a week when I can, other exercise
on the off days, walk almost everywhere. I’ve been
mainly vegetarian (some fish) for 13 years and don’t
see going back to eating meat.
7 - DREAMS: One basic dream: that I make an authentic
life as a writer. A better way to put it: I am living
an authentic life as a writer, making the dream a
reality. (Thank you to The Fearless
Blog for cheerleading the idea
that we must think something to make it
so.)
Would you like bloodworms with that?
He sold the whirligig mallards and Canada geese at a produce stand on Route 213. They were solid moneymakers, big sellers with the weekenders who clogged the roads every Friday and Sunday night. Lined up outside the stand, a bank of lures staked to the ground against a backdrop of cantaloupe and corn, the birds would be set off by the breeze, wings turning frantically in a frustrated pantomime of flight.
Wing tracing was not enough to keep sixteen-year-old me occupied for two months, however. That’s how I ended up, after a lot of maternal arm-twisting, as the sole employee at Eastern Shore Marine, a small marine supply store in Chesapeake City.
Eastern Shore Marine was a muddle of motors and Docksiders, winches and water-skis. It didn’t know exactly what kind of store it wanted to be: hardcore marine supplies (motor oil, pumps, pulleys) or day on the water store (skis, shoes, inner tubes). For the fishermen, we had a refrigerator full of packaged live bloodworms. If you wanted to toss some cash at an Evinrude motor, we could get you one. And towards the end, Eastern Shore Marine became the local dealer for Motorola car phones, exotic objects with a limited range, toys for the gadget aficionado.
Every day at the shop offered me a new opportunity to feel stupid. I knew nothing about boating. People would question me about sailing pulleys, or what weight motor oil they would need, would quiz me on outboard motor horsepower and I would stammer through a non-answer, look dumbly at the shelves, hope for an epiphany.
The store’s owner, John Jackson, wasn’t much help. When he was there, it was mainly to down beers in the back with his buddies, an off-duty Maryland state cop and the rug cleaning guy from the shop next door. From the clenched jaw, one-sided phone conversations I overheard, I could tell that John’s marriage was disintegrating along with his business. Maybe the responsibility for both was too much for him, too many things to juggle.
Over the two summers I worked for him, John became more and more erratic. Though he hardly ever showed up during my shifts, my boyfriend Derek and I would sometimes run into him at Bennett's Liquors or at the Canal House, the local boater's watering hole. He'd greet us with a high-pitched hello and a tight grin, insist upon giving us ice or a drink. "Want some iiice?!" became our catchphrase for him, a reference to the night he filled Derek's cooler with an intensity beyond the task.
John was a no show for my last week of work, the week before I left for my freshman year in college. Even his wife was calling, trying to track him down. Then another call would come in on the line, John's distant voice over car phone static. He'd be at the store by noon. It never worked out that way.
Alone, I’d pace the aisles, line my white MIA shoes heel to pointy toe in a circuitous route around boating supplies. The occasional customer would show, hopefully with a simple request. I waited for business, drank diet Dr. Pepper, ran my finger along the bottles of teak oil. The sailing equipment fascinated me and I would finger the pulleys, try to figure out the knot chart.
When Dan, one of our suppliers, dropped by with beer for a farewell visit on my last day, I didn’t see a problem with cracking one open. We sat in the office and talked over a couple of Coors, had a meandering goodbye conversation about John, my college plans. At the end of my shift, I emptied the cash register, doled out my weekly salary. I locked up and delivered the keys to the rug cleaner, then hopped into my grandfather's waiting car.
Within six months, Eastern Shore Marine was closed. I never saw John again.
Watch this space
The hours were long and being exposed to the inner workings of the legislative branch got old. The head of our department liked her iron grip and crushed what little joy we had in our dark basement space. I quit and went to cooking school. Finished cooking school and had a baby. And when part of me slowly reawakened, I began writing.
One of the things I miss about the working world is creating things for the Web (another thing that might have my old colleagues scratching their heads). Although I'm not sure how many people read or use the Virtual Reference Desk, I am still proud of it. I'm also proud of helping to develop and maintain the Active Legislation list, which is a truly useful online document for those who are keeping up with federal bills that are in the news.
I'm in the middle of redesigning this blog and putting together an Internet site using Rapidweaver. It's kind of like the old days, except I have more control and no technical support. I'm limping my way through and it's slow going. Hopefully it will be up in a week or so, but until it is I may not be posting as much or checking in with my friends.
See you soon.