I understood that they were just made up, that Henderson was a writer, that there weren’t any People, that nobody was going to find me and sort out my teenage angst and teach me to fly—and then again, on the other hand…
A The New Yorker copy editor, that is! I especially liked her comment that “The hours at The New Yorker are from ten to six, and I try to be on time, as it is embarrassing to be chronically late when you don’t have to be at the office till ten.” It’s interesting to find out the differences with book editing (and with the processes we have at UU World).
Although my details differ, I have this same feeling about my job:
The thing I like most about my job is that it draws on my entire background. I know a little Italian and Greek that sometimes come in handy. I once caught a mistake in Middle English (in a piece by Andrew Porter yet)—the only time my graduate degree has ever had a practical use. I know the name of the airport in Cleveland, and that can be useful when you’re reading a piece of fiction by a Southern writer who is making things up about northern Ohio. It’s redemptive to have a practical use for the arcana of Roman Catholicism.
The gates of repentance are open to anyone who approaches them with an open heart. There is an infinite source of love available to us, and we are always already forgiven. We just have to come knocking.
As I begin a week of 50th-birthday related vacation, I’ve been pondering what I will reap in my second half-century. And the thing that popped out at me is that I can enjoy a loving and healthy relationship with both my parents. This wasn’t always a given over the last fifty years (especially during the middle portion). It was a lot of work and patience, and just waiting for time to change things, on both sides. And it is worth it.