Resignation
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In order to get a boatload of bucks, I said “yes” to an aggressive technology company that wants my services.
But that means I have to quit my current job. I went to the office yesterday and typed out a contrite resignation and slipped it under the door of my erstwhile boss. He is a good guy and he is probably at the office already.
So that bridge is merrily burning this morning. .
It was a pretty eloquent note of departure. I certainly hope the new job works out.
This is a lousy morning for writing. I woke up in my chair with the History Channel on the tube. There was an analysis of the equipment the Airborne troops carried at Normandy, and that transitioned to the saga of the 101st Division in that war and then Vietnam. I watched in grim fascination. Then the alarms went off and the bed was so cozy and inviting that I could not stay awake after the alarm went off. I traveled through the Morning Update on the BBC in a fugue state, and am only now really coming to anything like awareness. My mind is filled with words like “hostage,” and “August 6th President’s Brief,” and “70 FBI investigations.”
I have not idea what it all means. But that is not unusual. The hostages now are from seven countries and there are more dead Marines, three I think, but that could change through the day.
The President is monitoring the situation closely from his ranch in Crawford, Texas.
The news is thus mixed up with the grainy images of other wars, young kids with Mohawk haircuts jumping out of planes to become impaled on church steeples and trees miles from where they were supposed to go, shot like passenger pigeons by the Germans.
Both my guys checked in yesterday and are doing fine. My younger was scheming on how to have a nice Easter dinner- all the kids from Enormous State University went home for Easter, even though it is not an “official” holiday. He asked if he could charge a meal on his credit card. I told him he could, and then talked to my older boy who is poised to graduate in one more semester, ins’Hallah
He was feeling sleek and happy. He is looking forward to the summer, and being home, and both of the boys were watching golf, for goodness sake.
The three of us were all excited about Phil Mickelson’s victory at the Masters in Augusta. Phil has been so close so often. He is the son of a Navy Captain and grew up around familiar things to the boys. This is his first win in 43 major tournaments. He was on cloud nine when he finished. Since the advertisers refuse to get involved with the tournament because of Augusta National President Hootie Johnson’s support of the no-women-members policy, the four days were commercial-free. It was refreshing, like a gigantic public service presentation.
The younger boy says he will drop his objection to the sport on the grounds that it is too bourgeois, and may come out and play with us this summer.
I had been flailing around through the weekend, trying to replace my refrigerator because the freezer stopped freezing. I was cooking the melting food in batches all weekend and then I reached in to cook another box of frozen macaroni and cheese when I discovered the thing had healed itself.
I assume something had frozen itself in the duct that feeds chill air into the compartment. So I have once more bought something I don’t really need.
Oh well, story of this Srping. I imagine the President feels that way, too..
It is sort of like the 32-year-old Mercedes I have sitting out in the parking lot. But I do need another car. My younger was very pointed in trying to get me to commit to a new vehicle so they can each have a car. I just told him I might bet a “beater” for the summer and let the ex drive my Chrysler. That would be a way around the insurance, which measures risk in very large dollars for teen-age drivers.
Maybe it will work. He also was concerned about the prospect having to pay his own health insurance after he is 23, or ceases to be a full-time student. I was pleased to see him looking ahead. He views that as an outrage. It is interesting to watch them approach the great gulf between the extended childhood we have provided them and the world in which we live. He seems resigned to it, which is a sign of something or other.
I’m glad he is in school, and I suspect he is feeing the same way. I’m glad there is no draft.
He could be a Marine now, and working elsewhere.
Copyright 2004 Vic Socotra |
April 12, 2004
DailySocotra
