As you know, I am a very smart lady. But the book club I frequent is one at which I am (relatively) not the smartest lady. I attend my college alumni book club and if you know anything about the University of Chicago, then you know that book club is made up of knowledgeable people who I cannot possibly “one-up”. It’s nice to be among peers or strangers and have something interesting or unique to say. My fellow alumni, however, have heard it all. They do their own research on the book, EVEN THOUGH I am the designated leader. They use words (millenarian), that I do not know. They outwit, outplay and outlast. But, honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s completely invigorating and I am so glad that I choose this book club rather than one that is perhaps a bit more diverse.
A few things that I noticed at tonight’s discussion of “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time” (which is fabulous by the way):
1. I am the youngest book club member by about 20 years
2. I am the poorest book club member by about 100,000/year
3. I am the least educated book club member (I don't have a PhD)
3. I am the shyest book club member
4. I am the only non-Jewish book club member
Most interesting for me was the reawakening of my interest in old(er) people. I’ve always had a rapport with the ole grey-hairs. I love the confidence that comes with aging. They’re not PC, or concerned with a right (or even relevant!) answer. They’ve come to terms with their life and everyone in it. I love older couples. There’s no strife (because you worked it all out when you were younger). There’s just familiarity and even a bit of playfulness that I think is lost when the concepts of youth and beauty factor into (and sometimes even form the basis of) a relationship. I love how if they get your attention, they just talk—even if other people are talking about something else. I love going to bed at 9! I love that they are interested in all the things that I’m interested in. I truly feel sometimes that my peer group is more the senior citizen crowd than the young adult crowd. I also love the stubbornness and feistiness of old age. Needless to say, I look forward to the day my gentleman friend and I take our teeth out and leave them in the bathroom, only to mix them up the next day. Or when we forget to wear underwear and read big print books in bed. I also look forward to young stuff too, but it’s the old stuff that makes me laugh (with, not at).
New obsession: Entering The New Yorker caption writing contest. I’ve been playing along with the game for a few months, but I finally decided to take it to the next level and enter the contest. I don’t anticipate ever winning, but it’s really fun to try and think of the perfect New Yorker caption. Dry, clever irony can be so hard to nail down! When actually entering, it’s no longer enough to come up with the concept for the cartoon and then a vague spattering of words to illustrate the concept. No...if you’re pressing the submit button, then you’ve brainstormed and worked out your phrasing. I think it's an activity that could be more fun/successful with a partner (2 brains are better than 1), but it’s still deeply satisfying alone.
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