ON SHARING A LIFE
“For
God’s sake, Janice, can’t you ever be reasonable? You know I can’t go
on that river tour today. I have to meet the ambassador at one o’clock,
and we’ll probably be tied up for the rest of the afternoon.”
“But you promised, and the kids have been counting on it so much.”
“I can’t help it. This is
important and is the only time I could arrange to see the ambassador. You’ll just have to take them yourself.”
“But they want to have you
along. You haven’t spent more than ten minutes with either of them in I
don’t know how long. They need you John. We all need you. Can’t you
take just two little hours of your time to be
with us?”
“Listen, Janice, I’m sorry, but
you’ll have to understand that in my kind of work certain sacrifices
have to be made. I explained all that to you when we married. I have a
career to think about and a position to uphold,
and there are a lot of people depending on me. Now you take the kids
and have a good time, and I promise I’ll take all of you out to dinner
tonight."
An empty promise, I knew. How
many times had I broken similar promises in my life as a diplomat? I
could hardly blame Janice for the discouraged look she gave me as I
hurriedly kissed her goodbye and rushed out the
door.
I had to get away early so I
could have a few minutes to look over the proposals I was to present to
the ambassador concerning expansion of trade channels with Yugoslavia
and other Iron Curtain countries.
It was sunny and warm as I sat
down for a quick noontime chi in the sidewalk café on Bulevar
Revolucije. As I sipped the warm tea and breathed the fresh spring air,
I set aside the proposals for a moment and let my
mind drift back to my youth and those carefree summer days when Janice
and I would pack a lunch and pedal my grandmother’s old two-seat bicycle
down to one of the secluded California beaches near our home near
Eureka. I still remember that crazy red panama
hat I always had to wear and those green and orange plaid Bermuda
shorts. I guess we were so young and immature that we didn’t care about
anything.
But that was a long time ago,
and Belgrade, Yugoslavia, is a long way from Eureka, California. How
many years and how many miles later is it now? Ten years by my
calculation, countless miles through almost every corner
of the Earth. Can I be the same person as I was then? All the travel,
the conferences, the cocktail parties, the harried days and long
nights, never any time to stop and take a really deep breath of fresh
air or a long look at myself. But then, I’m a diplomat,
and I chose this way of life freely, so why should I complain when I
don’t have as much time as I would like to spend with my family. I like
it this way.
However, after eight years of
packing and unpacking, hellos and goodbyes, outpost assignments, and
stolen belongings, worrisome incidents and constant harassment, planes,
hotel rooms, and long periods of separation,
I’m beginning to feel as though Janice has almost had enough. She
wants a home, community, lasting friendships, but most of all,
security — all of the things that millions of everyday people have.
Not me! Never a common life for me. Eight
to five, subways, television, PTA …. give it all to others. I want
travel, adventure, excitement, and most of all a feeling of importance. With eight years' seniority and an established
reputation in the diplomatic corps, I could not conceive of myself
risking it all for something as trivial as a boat trip on the Danube.
As I sat there feeling the warm
rays of sunlight penetrating my new Oxford suit, I noticed a rather odd
looking spectacle slowly moving up the boulevard, delaying the hurried
noon-hour traffic. It was a small wooden
wagon being pulled by what first appeared to be two men. But as they
drew closer, I could tell that they were a man and a woman, both well
past middle age. They were talking and laughing as they struggled to
make the old metal wheels move over the resisting cobblestone
pavement. They seemed oblivious to the horn blowing of the irate
drivers behind them.
On the wagon was a heavy metal
brewing pot, blackened with age, and an old rusty set of bed springs. Neither could have been worth more than fifty dinars, but these ancient
relics were being towed down the main boulevard
of this capital city as if they were intended for the use of Marshall
Tito.
As the two came opposite to the
café where I was sitting, they halted, gave each other a quick furtive
glance, dropped the tongue, and plopped down on the curb to rest.
She was wearing man-type work shoes, heavy
stockings, a tattered, shin-length skirt, topped by an equally tattered
long-sleeve sweater. Around her semi-grey hair was a printed scarf. His clothes were much dirtier and ragged than
hers, except for a spotless brown derby hat which topped his unshaven
face that made him appear almost humorous.
Traffic would bottle up behind the wagon
until the left lane cleared, then the cursing drivers would whip around
the motionless obstacle and rush away to their demanding destinations. None of this seemed to faze the couple, and
their laughing chatter continued.
At one particularly enrapturing comment
from the man, the old woman gave a wide semi-toothless grin and reached
over and knocked his derby down over his eyes. He responded with a
gentle pinch to her thigh, and they both giggled.
Their seeming happiness fascinated me. How
could two people with so little be so happy? They were acting almost
like a young couple in love in the springtime. And it was springtime. But what could they possibly see in each other
to delight in, especially at that age and under those conditions? I
could see nothing that could make them so happy and carefree.
As I watched I had a tremendous urge to
walk across the plaza and ask them what they could possibly be laughing
at. But while the thought was still rolling around in my mind, a husky
policeman approached and, in a rough sounding
melee of words, ordered them to move on.
With lowered heads they lifted the tongue
and once more began their struggle up the hillside boulevard. I saw
them exchange quick smiles, and soon I could hear them laughing again.
And then I remembered the appointment to meet the ambassador at one o'clock.
