Bernice Worries

Not that she was a suspicious person, knock wood, but all her children seemed to be happy.  At the moment.  This was unheard of, so Bernice knew something was going on.  But with which one of them?  Or—all?

Riley had given up her career as an educator and was working as a secretary.  Well, Riley called it executive assistant because no one has a secretary anymore.  She’s working for someone everyone in the office seemed to call Chairman Wu.  Riley wrote that his birth name was Wu Huang Liu.  But now he was officially “Richard” and none dare care him “Dick,” at least to his face.  In fact, his preference was Dr. Wu.  And she wouldn’t think of calling him anything else.

Dr. Wu was a transfer from Seattle and still getting the hang of Pittsburgh, its weather, its sports teams.  Part of her job was to prepare a brief on all sports action and have it on his desk first thing every morning.  For this she got an education, Bernice wondered.

But Riley seemed happy.  “Not a moment to breathe,” she told her mother when she called on Sunday.  And then, “I was at a reception with our congressman last night.”  “I spend most of my days out of the office, representing Dr. Wu.”  Also, “I’m making so many connections.”

Bernice wondered what the connections were for.  On the other hand, the bump in pay was very nice, and Riley was on the verge of buying a townhouse, where she could finally have a garden.

Speaking of houses, what’s with Frank?  Bernice had suggested several times that she visit and see what progress he was making on his house.  But he kept putting her off, saying he didn’t want her to see it until it was finished.  Was he afraid she would object to his decor or something?  Very weird.  At least he drove over to visit her once a month, which was in itself unusual, as he hadn’t been doing that before he bought the house.  You’d think he’d use the weekends to work on the renovation.

At least he wasn’t complaining about his work so much, just seemed to take it in stride.  That in itself was a relief.  But why had he stopped complaining?  Had he accepted this was his fate in life, instead of feeling pushed into lawyering by his father?

And then there’s Eden.  It appears she has a friend of the opposite sex.  “It’s a great relationship,” Eden said, when she called.  “I hardly ever see him.”

“What’s great about that?” Bernice asked.

“If you knew him, you’d understand.  We’re at different levels—intellectually.”

Well, what did that mean!  Bernice insisted on knowing.  Was he an electrician or a plumber or—and Eden an intellectual?  Something Bernice never considered in regards to Eden.  “Please explain.”

“He’s, like, some sort of computer genius or something and works for a security firm.  While I’m very much involved in the arts.  Obviously.  But only some arts.  He likes chamber music.  Says it’s mathematical.  As you know, math was never my subject.  I keep having to make excuses not to go with him when he has tickets.  He finally confronted me and said, if I don’t like chamber music, just say so and we’ll do something else.  So I took him at his word and told him.  In what I suspect as retaliation, he took me to a concert of electronic music.  Then I had free tickets to Swan Lake.  Who doesn’t like Swan Lake?  I always cry at the end.  All he did was hand me his handkerchief and looked at me as if I was weird.   Also, we like different tv shows.  I love a good mystery, but he always spoils it by telling me the ending ten minutes into the show.  He likes all those reality contests.  Boring!”

“Can’t you just get two tv’s?” Bernice asked in a rather deadly fashion.”

“We’re not living together, Mom,” Eden retorted.  “He travels a lot, but we get together when we’re both available.

“So in other words, you’re not exactly taken with him.”

“Well, I can’t say that—exactly.  He’s generous and fun in his way.  He wants me to meet his parents.”

“Eden!  My goodness.  So this is serious?”

“No.  I think he just wants his parents to know he’s dating someone.  He says they’ve had problems adjusting to his personality.  Like, you’re telling me.”

“So are you going to meet his parents?”

“Might as well.  They live near Chads Ford so we’ll be able to go to the Brandywine and see the Wyeths.”

Bernice loved her daughter’s priorities.  But Eden was still in her twenties and now people aren’t even getting married until maybe forty, if they get married at all.  There was time.

As far as her own life, Bernice had been put in charge of moderating “Past and Present,” a discussion group held at the library every other Thursday night at seven.   It was allegedly cultural enrichment, but sometimes turned into a slug fest, depending on which “scholar” was leading the discussion.  While the topics were announced ahead of time, there was no real required reading.  Some of the discussions were easygoing like “Inside Greenhouses, You Can Do It,” or, “Crafting in America/Bring Your Own Examples.”  A jolly time was had by all.  But then—history?

For this all-embracing subject, Carla, the head of the library, brought in Professor Thad Dunkirk from the SUNY system as the alleged expert.  This invitation was continuously issued despite the fact that every time Dunkirk led the discussion, everything turned chaotic quite quickly.  People left early, some in tears.  Take the topic of the French and Indian wars.  Professor Dunkirk insisted they be called the Seven Years War, as the American continent was only a small part of the total action, which spread across Europe, most notably England and Prussia against France and Spain.  Confusion reigned, as some people conflated this with Bernard Cornwell’s Sharp and the Napoleonic wars, while others assumed the French and Indian wars were part of the American Revolution, including one woman who was a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution.  This caused Dunkirk to digress and proclaim the DAR a racist organization.  At which point the DAR member wondered threateningly if Dunkirk had tenure.

Every time Dunkirk was invited, Bernice felt she knew what having an ulcer must feel like.  But here he was, again on the schedule, this time to discuss Manifest Destiny.  Dare she hope the library patrons would boycott Dunkirk?  Or would she once again have to sit there as a moderator and try to—moderate?

She appealed to Carla once again.  They had to drop Dunkirk.  But Carla remarked that the same people who were upset by Dunkirk’s views were the same people who wanted to ban books.  “But this was supposed to be bringing members of the community together, not tearing them apart,” Bernice stressed.

“We do not give in to the masses,” Carla replied briskly.

In which case, why did they always order twenty copies of every new Danielle Steel book?  After the first two weeks everyone who wanted to read them had, and then they were left to molder on the shelf.

But hers not to reason why.  Part time job.  All she had to do was put in the hours.  At least it was better than sitting alone in her apartment, trying to find something to watch on the tv, despite five streaming channels.

Although she had to wonder why Carla was so intent on bringing Dunkirk in.  Was there something going on between the two of them?  Carla had been head of the library for years now, even kept the position when her husband was transferred to South Carolina. Marriage woes?  Of which Bernice knew quite a bit.  Now that would be a good subject of discussion—but perhaps not in the library.

Bernice decided she would catch Professor Dunkirk this time as he came into the library and warn him to be more civil.  If he was offended, so much the better.  Maybe he’d turn and walk away, and then they could discuss something else, like the latest best sellers and perhaps why they were on the list.