Topic 94: An Apology for Bores

Carol:

   An Apology for Schmucks

Dear Family:
 

I have been distracted from my daily theme responsibilities, what with Christmas preparations, having family home for the holidays,  taking the California trip, acting as tour guide for my Canadian visitors, and… yada-yada-yada. Some might call my routine boring, but I like knowing where I will be on Monday through Friday at 7:15 a.m. (walking the dog) and Monday through Friday at 9:15 a.m. (writing the daily theme).
 
Writing takes concentration and quiet, which I have not had. My work has suffered, the typos left unattended and my standards slackened. I am beginning to sound like a bore, worse yet a bore who can’t  spell. Not so today. I am back from (walking the dog), all is quiet, and I have 2 hours to devote to my writing. I am setting a new standard,  no banal or boring attempts to address the topics.  I am a writer, not a hack.
 

First, I do want to remind you that the word “essay” comes from the French,  meaning” to attempt.” And, an apology by definition  is more than an “I’m sorry.” It is also an argument, a logically-constructed  defense of a position. The professors who assigned topic #94 to their Ivy League students in the 1920’s expected these future politicians, tycoons, and academics to apply formal philosophical principles to the debate of any topic, no matter how seemingly inane.  In fact, the challenge would be to elevate the banal by the skillful use of vocabulary, logic, and appropriate humor. One might even  write an “An Apology for Boring Topics,”  arguing that anyone can write an interesting essay about a unique or challenging topic but it takes extraordinary skill to “essayer” an essay about something boring: hairpins, dogs, bank accounts.

Dear family, you may be wondering at this point why I have addressed topic #94 specifically to the people who know me best when there must be at least 8 people outside the family and our college roommates who regularly read “The Daily Theme.” Well, I’m just going to come out and say it. I don’t want to write an apology for bores today, I want to write a confessional.  I apologize.  I am supremely, contritely sorry for having myself become the biggest bore you know.
 

I intended to write a carefully researched essay on the world’s most famous bores, or a clever comparison of the delightful 1998 French film The Dinner Game-- as the French called it Le Diner de Cons-- and the 2010 American yawner Dinner for Schmucks. But,  as my brain is wont to do when I take the Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday etc. 7:15 a.m. walk with the dog, I realized  in mid-stride at 7:20 a.m. that the only person I know who would  be invited to a diner de cons or  dinner for schmucks is… ME.

I hope that my zeal for language,  literature,  movies and books has been equally interesting and entertaining for my family and friends. In retrospect, I realize that my passionate enthusiasm for learning can be overbearing and, yes, overboring.   I have begun to intuit that my latest passion, three years of intensive family history and genealogical research, has stretched your patience to its limits. I seem to punctuate all of my dinner-table revelations with “I know you get tired of hearing about this, but…” or “Can I just tell you one more thing I learned today about…”
 

So, family and friends, I have used today’s essay not to craft an apology for bores but to profess an apology from a bore. After all these years of carefully explaining the nuances of language, the importance of, nay the beauty of, linguistic precision, I hope that you appreciate the difference between the two.
                    Your humble wife, mother, sister, and friend
                                                       C. H.  

 

Megan:

I don’t think I know any boring people. Sometimes I am bored by what interests other people, but that’s not the same thing. I don’t hold it against them. It bothers me when people don’t get to the point fast enough—when they are more concerned with accuracy than telling a good story:

“Six years ago… or was it 5? Bush’s first term it was, so that must make it… Junior was still in college so …” That makes me crazy. I’d rather tell a good story and sacrifice any semblance of accuracy. I believe the technical term for this habit is exaggeration.

Anyway, I had a prisoner who worked for me who told the longest winded stories ever and it was a real chore not to completely zone out. Sometimes he would tell the entire plot of a TV show, and it would take longer to listen to him than to watch it live. I could always tell when he was gearing up for a long one when he would lean against the counter, take off his glasses and run his fingers through his cropped short hair.
    “Well, Megan, did you uh happen to catch last night’s episode of True Blood on BBC One?
    “No Joe. I don’t have a TV.”
    “Oh that’s right you told me that before. Don’t know why I can’t remember. But you are familiar with the show?”
    “Yes.” This is the fatal mistake.

We always let him talk though because he didn’t fit well into the prison. He was older than most of the other inmates, but only recently been convicted. His wife had killed herself and his children did not visit him, and in an alcoholic black-out he beat to death his 87 year old neighbor who had refused to loan him money.

I once overheard him discussing his crime with the other orderlies who worked in the library – the only time he didn’t go into detail. “I can’t remember doing it, but the evidence was there. It must have been me.”

Most of the time people get bored because they do not understand the details, and the topic does not inspire their imagination. Sometimes the language gets in the way; the jargon can be distracting. I don’t understand the language of geneology, which is why its sometimes hard for me to get excited about 9th great-grandfathers. I’m never sure how related we are. In England, I didn’t have a TV so I was never able to participate in the daily recaps of popular shows with my colleagues. Instead, we found other things to talk about, like books and movies, and the prisoners we served.

Sometimes its hard for me to talk about my job, because librarianship does not seem like an interesting occupation. For many incarcerated people, prison is their first experience with libraries. That’s why it was so important to be friendly and welcoming and professional.  Most people’s opinions on librarianship have been shaped by their experience as a patron, and whether or not the staff were helpful. In many libraries, it is often impossible to distinguish the librarians from the assistants,and from the pages and volunteers;  a library is judged by the quality of its customer service as much as its resources. This makes sense, but it limits the general public’s awareness of the variety of duties and the skills required to perform them. Mention a cataloging problem to anyone but a librarian and it’s like hitting a snooze button. I try to get around this problem by reeling my audience in with a prison anecdote and then I hit them with the library.

Sorry.