E tenebras, lux dormiens

I sometimes marvel . . .

I sometimes marvel how liberal my mother could seem to be. She was telling me this story about her manager being very impatience, about her former manager who was demoted and yet continued to act pompous and all-knowing when he is just an ignoramous, akin to Dilbert's manager, full of sound and fury, and you know the rest.

That was not the point of the story, I just like to tell you that. But I'm getting closer to explaining why I am mentioning my mother's liberal streak. What was going on, was that I asked her about my dad's boss. (They work for the same Wells Fargo Company, Mom as programmer, Dad as technical consultant.)

In the times that Mom met Dad's manager (f.), in party and social gatherings she said that the manager was very nice and soft-spoken. Here is the dialogue, dramatized for the time allotted:
"I've had many managers, so I'm used to it. But your dad's manager was a nice person," she said and chuckled. "Some people said she was a lesbian."

I raised my eyebrows in interest in what my good dear mother had to say. She continued, "But you know, I don't care about her personal life, but the way she works with people is very important."

Sometimes I marvel at how liberal my mom seems to be. Yet I do wonder, but do you care about my personal life? What about me? Do you care if I were to just find a boy with whom to live? Do you care to such extent that you refuse to accept that I am that I am, not that I am what I was? That I, my body, require a different ingredient, a different recipe, a different something, for my happiness?


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