"Speak what we feel . . ."

I just spent a couple of hours re-reading sections (okay, most of) “King Lear.” I hope my students will have read it at least once.

This is such a great play, but so depressing. It presents a picture of a “tough world” that offers no justice, a world where power is everything and divine help an illusion. When Lear can no longer force his daughters to care for him, they desert him. When Cordelia lies, dead, at the end of the play, Lear laments, “Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life,/And thou no breath at all? Thou’lt come no more,/Never, never, never, never, never!” (V.iii.304-06). This is so heartbreaking, yet universal for those who face the truth of death—the good do, sometimes, die young, much too young, and we wonder “why?” and we try to wrap our minds around that “never, never, never . . .” but we just can't.

Yet there is a kind of hopefulness in the play, too. Lear, exposed to the cruelty of the world, develops compassion. Cornwall’s cruelty is challenged by a brave servant, and an aged tenant overcomes his class antagonisms to help Gloucester find Edgar in the heath. And, of course, Cordelia remains the voice of love, forgiveness, and honesty. The play offers us the hope that we can bring love to life in our own acts of compassion.

It also presents us with a challenge, the challenge that closes the play when Edgar urges us to “Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say . . .” (V.iii.323). This is the challenge I’ve taken on myself. This is why I can’t be ordained as a minister in the church. This is at least one of the reasons why my whole career seems off track. I want to say what I feel, and not what I ought to say.

Of course, I don’t, not really. Instead of saying what I feel out loud, I write it down; I put words into the mouths of invented characters, I shroud what I feel in essays clothed with intellectual sophistication. Can we really live with other people if we say what we feel, and not what we ought to say? Yet, this is what I want to do: I want to say what I feel, and not what I ought . . .

What else did I do today?

Well, I got the big kids ready for school, then watched the little girls for a few minutes while my wife took a shower, then I went out to my garage and worked for a while on some memoir stuff (my only work space at home is in our garage). Then I went to church, after looking at Scotchman’s (flat). I tried to work at my office there for a couple of hours, answering email, contacting people at Y & R, trying to put out the fires that go along with my church job . . .

Then a couple of guys from the GAO called me about working for them. The job sounded pretty good. It includes travel, teamwork, chances to learn about new things, do research, write, and make a difference. It still probably ranks as a third or fourth career choice with me, but it beats being homeless.

I heard some demographer on “Marketplace” today. He described our demographic situation as a kind of hourglass: the baby-boomers represent a big group that is approaching retirement, and the twenty-somethings today represent another big bulge. Guess who’s fucked? That’s right: Gen X-ers. He was saying what we already know, the Baby Boomers will hold onto all the really good jobs until it’s too late for Gen X-ers to get them, but not so late that we won’t have to somehow think of a way to fund social security for them. Yes, I’m a whiney, bitter, Gen X cliché.

I said I would go surfing today, no matter how flat it was, and I did. I spent about 25 minutes carving up two-foot slop at 28th Street. Despite the horrible conditions, it was fun.

I watched/listened to several innings here and there of what amounted to a devastating defeat for the Angels, but tomorrow is another day, and Schilling won’t be pitching.

I watched the Vice-Presidential Debate. I can’t help it, but every time I see Dick Cheney I hear that Darth Vader theme music in my head.

I also had to watch the kids for a couple of hours while Barbara helped out with the schools’ book fair.

I was feeling pretty lonely today, but Shakespeare is a pretty good friend, and Neptune hardly ever lets me down when I give him a chance.