Back in 2001-2003, I attended York University to gain a Master of Arts with a major in Dance. Last month I received an e-mail requesting an interview with Len Milley, the Director of Development for the newly named Arts, Media, Performance, and Design Faculty. He wanted to interview me to discuss how the AMPD and York University have shaped my life since I graduated.
Yesterday we had a 45-minute Zoom interview. I had some answers jotted down to answer the question I had been given and I outlined my comments for him at the beginning of our interview.
I told him I had initially decided to return to school for my Masters for financial reasons. I was a single mom with three children and I had recently acquired my first home and mortgage and I was seeking the highest possible pay I could get. Attaining my Masters raised me in the school board pay scale to the top level. I still had 12 more years before I retired and it gave me time to raise my pension, as it would be based on the best 5 years of my teaching career.
When I returned to university, it was at a difficult time politically for teachers. Mike Harris, the Ontario Premier at the time, had decided that our Ontario education system was in shambles. Teachers weren’t doing their jobs in educating our youth. They were over-payed with poor results. Even though it is the Ministry of Education that decides what and how students learn, the full blame for poor literacy rates was dumped on the teachers and we were being ripped apart in the media. I was afraid to tell people I was a teacher because I would usually have to listen to a tirade of how badly we were doing our jobs. As a student at York University, education was honoured again. My opinions mattered. I was made to feel important and valued. My contributions led to deeper insights and conclusions. We were a thriving, learning community.
I told Len Milley about my new publishing achievements. I had published two books, co-authored another and contributed to three published anthologies. I now confidently claim myself as a writer and author.
I also returned to dance as a passion after my graduation at York. Once again dance became an outlet for creativity and delight as I realized that, even though my body was aging, and I couldn’t take part in formal ballet or contemporary classes, there were many other genres I could enjoy. After graduation I signed up for four international dance retreats over the years; one in Hawaii, and three in Costa Rica and learned about Nia Dance and Conscious Dance. Dancing was a joy again.
Len listened with interest as I finished my monologue, and I thought perhaps we were done. And then the interview took a surprising twist.
He brought up my book 10 – A Story of Love, Life, and Loss, a memoir/cancer journey/love story about Tom’s and my life together. His first question was “How could you sit and write that book after losing someone you loved so much?”
I answered him with, “Have you ever seen the movie Something’s Gotta’ Give with Jack Nicholson and Diane Keaton? There’s a scene in that movie where Keaton, a playwright, decides to write a play about her breakup with Nicholson in a fictional plot. She took her heartbreak out in her writing, sitting at the computer, wailing and sobbing, elephant tears drowning her keyboard and pages. But she kept writing. A comedy, no less. It was cathartic.”
Len shook his head. “You took your grief out in writing and I took a year of therapy to get over mine.” And then he began to tell me about the losses and fears in his life. He had lost his mother, his father, and his brother, all in a short period of time.
We talked about facing death. We talked about living our lives with zest and what that really meant. We talked about not sweating the small stuff and our realization that it was all small. I told him about my angst after eight years after Tom’s death. I read the poem to him that spilled out of me spontaneously at a writing-to-heal workshop I had attended. It revealed a level of anger and grief that I didn’t even know I still harboured at that point of my recovery with my loss.
As our time came to a close, he finished with a few obligatory words about funding for the University and possible donations, which probably was the real reason for his call. He encouraged me to stay involved with the University with upcoming events and let me know he would put my name on a regular newsletter. We both acknowledged how special our conversation had been and he asked if we could talk again in September. I agreed.
How wonderful life can be when we open ourselves up with empathy, honesty, and authenticity. We all walk around with hurts and joys that we don’t normally share with most people. I felt honoured that he could open up with me the way he did, and that he was so accepting and interested in my thoughts and feelings about important life issues. I feel like I’ve made a new friend.
