July 17, 1999

Today I was chauffeur for my brother Pat. Picked him up at O'Hare, carried him out to a friend's wedding picnic in northern Cook County, shuffled him down to my sister's office in Hyde Park, at which point she took over to hurl themselves downstate to Mom's. The payoff is that I got to spend some time with my brother who is no ordinary English professor and my best friend. All the driving convinced me of this one deep truth: there are too many cars in Chicago.

At the picnic it rained consistently through the afternoon and was fun to watch the big and little kids splashing in puddles and playing volleyball. But I was reminded of that statement from Emerson that I've used for the message board: "I am made for chronic relations not for moments, and am wretched with fine people who are only there for an hour." I met Lisa who has written a novel or two, Myron who lawyers in Dallas, Rich who's involved with GLSEN, Joe who's a doctor and the groom's father, and Dave and Steph who just got married. These were very fine people, but it was hard to connect, knowing that we're not likely to meet again.

Last night I encountered another Web phenomenon: Instant Messages from complete strangers. These were pleasant enough. One had been referred by someone I do know. The other popped on to ask for help getting an idea for a school assignment, a paper on Henry IV, part 1....My AOL profile identifies me as an English teacher, so I guess I'm fair game.

I like these intrusions (at least for now)...but I wonder why. I've just finished saying how pointless I felt those brief encounters at the picnic were. Then I turn around and admit to enjoying the presence of strangers on my computer screen. I need to think about this. Maybe I'm afraid of faces, glances, tones of voice...all that's absent on the screen. The anonymity of us all on this machine may be a great gift. Could it be all we are capable of, the most we can expect? I am of at least two minds on this. I need to think some more.