How (Little) We Know

"Is it Kennedy's birthday or something?" Volunteer Art asked, pointing to my display of books about JFK.

"He was assassinated on November 22," I said, pointing to the book in the center of the display: The Death of a President: November 1963.

"Oh. I knew you had a reason."

I've said before that Art doesn't seem that smart, but he is my age, race, & class--how did he miss this?

I. Lonely Girl

In the last week, without intending to, I took a break from the Thriftstore Diary. Keeping it for two+ months––so, thinking more closely about work––was making me feel sad and overburdened. I see so much need and ugliness.
And I feel lonely, being reminded that even my class-mates at the store don't share my General Fund of Knowledge.

It's not the knowing or not knowing of facts that bothers me, per se––it's the whole approach to the getting of wisdom:
only knowing things you happen to encounter, not things you've sought out because you were curious; not reading books; and not asking people direct questions. (This last is seen as threatening, I think.)

I know, I know, I know, this is foolish, but I was a little shocked to be reminded by doing Toys Recreate Art how much I know about art history, and how that never comes up at work.
(Volunteer Art does art and frames, and he fancies himself knowledgeable, but beyond his own areas of interest, he's not.)

More, though: it's how little anyone at work knows ME (for instance, that I know about art) that is maybe the core of my sadness.
They know a whole lot about my personality, from observation, I'm sure! I bet they all have a solid impression of me, not something nebulous.
It wouldn't necessarily be factually true, though.

BJ told me, for instance, that Mary, a manager who has since left the store, had told BJ years ago that she should ask me out on a date.
I do have that lesbian vibe, I know, which is kind of great, but hearing that from BJ, it really bothered me that NO ONE ASKED ME.
Manager Mary had just assumed.

BJ had indeed asked me out foursome years ago--for coffee. It hadn't occur to me it was a date. The topic of sexual preference came up, and I said that I'd been partners with bink for thirteen years, but I no longer identify as gay.

BJ only told me the whole story of how she'd come to ask me out much later.
I kinda figure a lot of my coworkers still assume I'm lesbian.  Again, in itself that is fine--I definitely am queerish. But I hate feeling that no one can do the work to understand me more fully.

I hate that so much is unspoken, unaired, unquestioned, unresearched.
That's putting it strongly.
Do I really hate it?
Writing the Thriftstore Diary, I realized yes, I do.

I don't hate my coworkers for not asking, not at all. They're neat people, a lot of them, and that's one of the rules they live by.
There are strengths in those rules, some of which I am slowly learning, to my good.
But personally, the rules feel restrictive. They only work close-up; they lack extension.

I was never good at math, so I wasn't good at physics, but I learned one great law of physics from my Physics-for-Idiots teacher:

The laws of physics aren't immutable, she said. They are descriptions of phenomenon, necessarily limited by our limited human scope. (I think I got that right?)
This is the important part:
Physicists adopt the description that, in the simplest form (math), offers the most extension.

Some social codes offer more extensions than others.

I fear I sound like a snob.
I'd say that social classes work like tribes, and their rules work for each tribe. I might seek to understand it, but it's not for me to judge or interfere with what works within other tribes.
(Uh, this is complicated, but I'll let that stand. No one likes a social worker coming into their home.)

BUT... What rules work best when tribes meet?
What works if we want to run a city, or travel to the Moon?

I like the scientific rule (method):

Ask questions.
Test your findings.
Share your results.
Repeat.

In groups that forbid or circumvent this process (like my workplace does), for any reason, I feel lonely.

_____________________

II. He Persisted

Art and I annoy each other sometimes, but I give him credit: he does a lot of good.
He's retired, and he volunteers a lot at a lot of places.
He successfully hounded Big Boss into devoting some display space to information about public assistance in housing, which Art worked hard to gather--connecting with County and City services.
He complains a lot, but he puts his money (time) where his mouth is, and he's relentless.

Watching Art hound people, I see what a successful strategy that is.
I told him I admired his persistence.
"I like to think I'm persuasive," he said.

Ha. No.
It isn't the strength of his argument that wins. It's the strength of his pursuit. Luckily, he's arguing for good social services.
"It's our mission," he said.
He's right.

Of course he's right. Not because he read the mission statement but because I'd told him the mission statement describes "a network of friends working to create a more just world".

Art's persistence works, but only up to a point. Art retired early because he got fired from his job with the State because he wouldn't drop some crusade of his.

Trump's arc shows this too. Repetition works. But not forever.