In honor of William Faulkner’s
birthday today, I thought I’d revisit one of my favorite short stories of his
called “A Rose for Emily”. But before I
delve into the nuances of Southern culture and societal expectation, the above
quote by Faulkner reminds me of a review I read lately called “Philippe
Petit: Cheating the Impossible”. The
review focused on the story of a woman on her hands and knees cleaning the
floor of an airport. The part of the
review that reminded me of the above Faulkner quote and really touched me was
this:
“This
woman was crawling on her hands and knees across the airport, picking up every
bit of detritus, from cigarette butts to strands of lint, and then placing each
handful into a trash receptacle. Petit watched her work at her task undisturbed
for three straight hours.
The lesson he garnered from the experience as that no task was
impossible. If we focus with absolute conviction upon the next minuscule task
ahead of us, we will achieve any larger goal composed of those smaller
objectives.
In that way, a woman can clean up an entire airport by hand;
likewise, a man can fly across the ocean, break into a skyscraper, and walk a
tightrope between them.
I put the book down thinking about the things I have left to do
to achieve my own impossible dreams. Following his advice, I let the larger
obstacle fade away, and focused all of my attention and intention instead upon
the next tiny task at hand, understanding that in achieving that tiny task I am
moving steadily forward towards my larger mission.” ~Jeff
Suwak – http://www.JeffSuwak.com
I
sometimes need to remind myself of this lesson, to keep my focus on the smaller
goals before me, so I can achieve the larger dream down the road. Being in this business requires a lot of
patience and persistence, a good measure of hope, and bucket full of sheer dumb
luck.
In
A
Rose for Emily by William Faulkner, I can’t help but grieve for poor
Emily Grierson. Not because she may have
been a mentally disturbed woman, but because I can see the pressures that may
have drove her to that state. Faulkner
does a great job capturing the heartbeat of the time-worn Southern culture, one
still prevalent in the Deep South today.
I
suppose I relate a lot to Emily Grierson in many ways. Growing up, I had an overbearing father that
made it impossible to have a healthy, normal dating life as a teenager – the time
where you learn boundaries, explore emotional connections, experience first
loves, first heartbreaks, and all the other nuances that having young
relationships teach us.
Here
in Georgia, family traditions and roots run deep. Though I come from a large family, I’ve
always felt abandoned and orphaned, without roots, a wild flower, and tumbleweed. Yet, I live in a culture steeped in
tradition, a sense of family and strong faith.
No matter how much I fall in line, dress the part, and repeat the
mantras, I don’t fit. I never have, and
they’ll never accept me, because I’m a free spirit, I question everything, and
I could care less what my grandma, or my great-grandma said, because I never had
a grandma or a great-grandma love and teach me anything. Even if I had, I would probably question their
wisdom, because that’s who I am.
I
have been married for two decades into a family with very deep roots in this
area, yet after all that time, though they know my name, know where I live, I doubt
they barely notice I’m gone, other than being the example of gossip and failure
– as the town and two cousins from Alabama was so interested in helping poor
Emily Grierson with her ‘sad’ predicament (being an unmarried woman approaching
30 and in the company of a scandalous man).
Don’t
even get me started with the whole Baptists thinking they have to save you,
even if you don’t need to be saved, but perhaps from the judgment and tyranny
of religious dogma. Don’t get me wrong. I’m in no way opposed to a personal, intimate
relationship with God, but being here in the South and seeing how religion is
pretty much a requirement to participate in society, it leaves a bad taste in
my mouth. Too many profess a faith they don’t practice in deed. They practice with words and masks inside
their four walls, and anything odd, strange and peculiar outside the acceptable
boxes… well, are left to scrutiny, much like Emily and the need to for the
Baptist approval or disapproval of her relationship with a Northern carpetbagger.
As a ‘monument’ to this particular southern town, there were a lot of outrageous
expectations placed on Miss Emily, which ultimately forced her into a life of
solitude and to murder her lover. While Southern
society accepts more casual decisions in civic behavior, there is still a
strong traditional value system that makes odd characters like Emily and me
feel like outsiders. Like Emily, I was born and raised in this culture, yet
often shut myself away from the expectations and disappointments in being who I
am.
So,
do not wait and throw a rose on my casket with false accolades of love and acceptance. Love me as I am and throw a rose for all of
us weirdoes in celebration of our uniqueness.
Till
next time,
~T.L.
Gray
I've felt like an outsider all my life. Yet I lead a happy existence, in my own realm, in my writing, in my dreams, in the things I love doing.
ReplyDeleteGood post.