SCOT BELLAVIA: I got a new job, part 2

In my previous article, I didn’t give seniors a pretty fair shake. I read into their bitter sweet desires and pulled from it something they didn’t know they were spreading – that I had reluctantly clocked in the workroom and was finally moving to a job that promised no sadness or crying or pain

I support the argument in the last work: that jobs create the final position of the scale; they are instead places where we can have mercy on others in our presence if we darken the doors. Still, the goodbyes I received from my last jobs were cordial, especially on the last day.

I don’t know if it’s the right side of my brain to find poetry out of the ordinary, which makes me think the last day was so perfect, or maybe it was so perfect. Either way, the heresy of what happened will make that backyard party a lasting memory.

My last ping pong game was played with two regular and first timers. It felt so appropriate that the newcomer was there so I could move the baton, the paddle. This last game went small, as did all the ping pong games worth playing or watching. I won it, but I am convinced that one opposition deliberately surrendered. Still, it was appropriate that he let me win, not so that I could go high note, but so Id remember him as the man he is.

Another table tennis buddy, an 84-year-old who smoked a cigar and spent most of his work literally putting out fires in DC, sent me away with a tight handshake and until then a sentence I would have thought unnatural but heard it, I finally knew him. He said I love you, like it or not.

In fact, there felt a lot of open spiritual feelings that day. Whether verbal or written, their profound statements would have caused anger in the strictest separation of church and state, but our knowledge of all gave up all worries that religion was technically in that government building.

The most significant event of the day was my son, who was taken by my boss. He had invited the most loyal seniors I had really gotten close to.

My wife brought our 14-month-old child, who was party life, and her infant cry was not annoying but worshiped. We sat and talked about the little talk between the carrot cakes and the lime hips. The boss’s husband threatened to cheer, Speech! Speech! Fortunately, nothing like that happened, and I was only allowed to enjoy the conversations and argue with my son.

It felt like retirement, and even more so than a wedding, because it wouldn’t have been far from assuming they were going to form a tunnel and throw rice when I made my final departure.

At one point, my boss was busy ordering food and general hospitality, so during my last hour I answered two calls. Wading in the parties, I repeatedly heard the joke that they made me continue to work. I was glad I answered because the calls were satisfactory cherries.

My last last call was from someone who recently moved into town and had questions about the center. As a first-time ping pong player, this represented the circle of life; until my departure the others begin.

My second and final call, which my wife happily rejoices while being there to hear my regular phone greeting swan song, was with a parent I remember meeting when I first started. He apologized for missing out on ice travel and wished me well.

And with that, I didn’t burn bridges, I was asked to promise repeated visits, and I moved on to the next chapter of my life, as they say.

– Bellavia, Scotland