Years ago a colleague pulled the curtains tight so his neighbors wouldn't be appalled by what was going on inside: a small child's birthday party.
On September 11, 2001.
What can you do when personal glee intersects with public gloom?
I've been wondering that today as I'm enjoying a marvelous time with my
adorable granddaughter while my colleagues digest a proposal that, if
adopted, will gut some departments very close to my heart. We're out
here splashing in puddles and looking at eagles and throwing rocks in
the creek while people I care about are wondering what they'll do if
they suddenly find themselves up the creek without a paddle.
We're having fun! But everywhere I go, I see signs of distress and gloom. I ought to be commiserating with my colleagues, but instead I'm chasing after a perpetual-laughing machine (at a time when laughter is really unseemly).
Ah well, I'll have time for gloom tomorrow after the little jumping-bean goes back home. Meanwhile, we'll just pull the curtains shut and share our joy in private where we won't disturb the mournful.