Two weeks ago an elderly woman asked me for a cigarette. She was hunched-over, frowningly out of air, and clearly struggling for the courage to place the request. Perhaps I was too intimidating while smoking on my backyard porch, perching in reflective fascination with "color" and "thought", but she asked me anyway and I gave her a smoke. We talked then, quite briefly as one should allow, about names, places, things, weather observations, and general awkward stupidity of herp derp narf crap. Her name was Helen and she had just moved into a garage-studio apartment in my San Diego alley from Pittsburgh.
Tonight she asked me for another cigarette, but the conversation lasted four hours. I can honestly say I have never met a more fascinating, compassionate, experienced, happy, or wise person in my entire life. I mean no disrespect towards anyone, not even my parents, but fuckall if a conversation with Helen didn't make me appreciate being a person smaller than the stars during daylight.
So... Helen: At the age of 18, Helen left home to join a convent and became a nun. She was celibate, single, and devoted to Catholicism for the next 15 years. At the age of 33, she left the convent and enrolled in graduate courses. She earned her Bachelors, Masters, and Ph.D in Religious Studies by her 37th birthday (that's 4 years later, folks). After she completed her doctorate, she served under a Catholic bishop ("who was constantly drunk at mass and horny for boys") to further her experience. At 40 she wrote a letter to the Vatican requesting a dismissal from her vows. After a lengthy appeal process, she finally received a "retirement" of her vows. For the next 32 years, Helen was a professor and chair of Religious Studies at USD (University of San Diego), a private prestigious university that costs well over $30,000 in tuition per year to attend. Two years ago, Helen sold her two houses and moved into my alley, at the ripe retirement age of 74. So, to recap, Helen asked me for a second cigarette tonight and we talked.
After 30 minutes of venting my overly-personal current list of depressionist reflection of the usual life of me, I, thinking, we, self, stress, blah blah bullshit of crap if in an else otherwise while negotiable what the fuck are you reading? Helen didn't even blink. Ever realize that you've just over-exposed yourself to someone? That things, the conversation you've just been monologuing, have gone way too far beyond personal? I interrupted myself and asked Helen to tell me her story. The next three hours could be summed up as follows:
Me: "But Helen, were you happy?"
Helen: "Ohh.. YES!!! Absolutely."
You've lived for 74 years, never married, no kids, never had sex, but you're okay with that?
I'm thrilled, never been better.
But when you left the convent, you must've had some life-changing rebellion of faith/identity?
Yeah, that's why I went to school.
Do you still believe in God?
Yes, absolutely.
Why?
Because everyone either needs or wants a reason to exist.
Why didn't you ever get married?
I didn't find the right person.
Are you SURE that you've been happy?
Yes, Ben, I'm sure.
...I could fill in the details, but there's really no point unless I publish a book of the conversation. The bottom line is... you should start smoking so awesome old people will ask you for cigarettes, or something. Helen was convinced that I was lying when I told her what I've done since I was 18. Education, Africa, church intern, Asia, military, teacher... she really thought I was a liar. I'm proud of the doubt I created in an ex-nun.
Meh, I'll probably forget this entire conversation soon, like tomorrow or the day after.
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