If you want to join my Zoom book clubs, you must read the books I assign and attend the discussions on the dates and times I select.
If you want me to share a table with you for lunch, book it for 11 a.m. at a restaurant in my neighborhood. It's 5:30 p.m. for dinner.
And, should you be interested in imbibing a glass of wine with me, I'll see you at 4 p.m. CST on the amenity floor of my Chicago highrise.
It's a wonder I have any friends or followers! But my rules, which some may subscribe to my 83 years, haven't prevented Zoom book squares from being occupied by some 20 people for the last two years. And 35 attended the launch of my second group.
A dear friend, who is half my age, chooses to use "rigid" as a description of me. We have travelled together, and likely wishing to lower my anxiety, has agreed to be at the airport two hours before boarding.
Another longtime friend, exactly my age, has named my routine, "disciplined." This was a compliment.
While I'll allow my advanced years to be the culprit in these portraits, I must admit I've had these tendencies for as long as I can remember. I see myself at the Formica table in the kitchen of our three-room-flat. A high school textbook is opened for study. It is 4 a.m. But because I turned off the TV at 8 p.m., I will gain eight hours of sleep. I continue this early bird schedule to this day.
For the month of June, my antiracism book club will be reading, "Kristin Henning's nonfiction, "The Rage of Innocence." It's scheduled for the second Tuesday, 2 p.m. CST. My Jewish women writer's group will meet the fourth Tuesday of the month, same time, for Rachel Beanland's novel,"Florence Adler Swims Forever."
Behind my back, or in the safety behind the Zoom curtain, some members may scoff at my fiefdom. But most, I believe, appreciate the absence of decision-making. There is no batting about book titles. It's my choice. And the same goes for the date and time, which of course, is most convenient to me.
You may ask why am I not more lenient? Allow someone else to make the selection? Go further and let them pick the date and time? Now broaden their freedom to permit them to host the discussion. They will take on the charge of preparing questions, responding to raised hands, refereeing interruptions, and moving all along to finish in one hour. Anyone want to take this on? Anyone? Anyone?
My travelling friend ascribes my two-hour dalliance at the airport to worrying about being late and missing the plane. This is true, but it also allows the two of us comfortable time to chat. These are minutes, uninterrupted by our schedules, when we can share what's going on in each other's lives. After all, once we board the plane, we may not be seated adjacent. Or we may find the noise hard to overcome. This quirk of mine is really a gift. (See how I make lemonade.)
Perhaps it is my age that is the reason I stick to my preferences. In this last decade of my life, I see fewer reasons to bend. Why not let my comfort rule?
I think this stage has also eased this ready response of mine: "Thank you for the invitation, but I'm unable to join you." There was a time, when I was younger, that I accepted enticing offers. I would tell myself: it won't kill you to stay up past 8 p.m.
On those occasions, when I was compliant, not only was I miserable trying to keep awake, but also my companions were irritated when my attention was focused more on my watch than the event.
This is one of the advantages of my old age. Divorced and widowed, I have no spouse to confer with or consent to. My children are adults and live on either coast. There is no need for me to consult with them. In fact, they would likely advise me to go with my gut.
Those that accept my rigidity, discipline, and sovereignty learned there are advantages to acceptance of this behavior. They can feel magnanimous if they ascribe it to my age. "Let the old girl have her way," they may think.
Or they may like the sheen of compromise my friendship requires. They are the better person by letting me be the victor.
Old age has allowed me to be a tyrant, but a benevolent one.