followed the easiest possible path. I had married my last boyfriend out of high school and had easily flowed through twenty years of normalcy without anyone ever challenging or questioning me, least of all myself.
4
Rosie’s next scheduled interview was on a local cable TV talk show hosted by David Foster. She asked me to cancel it.
“Why?” I asked.
“I’m tired of evading the issue of my sexual orientation.
Foster is bound to ask me about it. He’s not a particularly kind interviewer.”
“Maybe you should quit evading the issue,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“Answer his questions.”
She said nothing, appearing unsure.
“What have we got to lose?” I asked.
“Let me think about it. There’s not much fight left in me, Jean. I’m tired. A couple more weeks and we can get on with our lives. After this, I’m going to try to rest up for a while. How about you?”
I stuttered. “Uh, I don’t know.” Soon it would all be over.
The idea panicked me. I’d have to find something else to do.
“My daughter gave me a copy of the course catalog from her college,” I said. “I’ve been looking through it, trying to decide on a practical, job-oriented class. I’m just not sure what would make sense.” I produced the catalog and handed it to Rosie.
“Something to do with business, I guess.” Rosie flipped through the pages. “How about beginning economics? That’s a practical, useful starting point.”
“I don’t know. I think money matters are beyond me.”
Rosie stared. “Jean!” She picked up the ledger on the edge of my desk. “What do you call this? For a month, you’ve been keeping the books for my campaign. This is money matters.”
“But all you need to know to do that is how to add and subtract.”
She frowned and put the ledger down. “I wish you’d quit underestimating yourself. It’s getting on my nerves.” Rosie, irritated with me, went into her office and shut the door.
Was I underestimating myself? I opened the ledger and looked at the columns of handwritten figures. We should be doing this on a computer, I thought. And then I remembered that 4
I didn’t know how. That evening I sat in the den at our computer with one of Jerry’s Excel books and Rosie’s campaign ledger and began to teach myself how to build a spreadsheet.
Amy came and looked over my shoulder. “What are you doing, Mom?”
“Teaching myself Excel.”
“They’ve got a class at school.”
“I can’t wait that long. Do you know this, Amy?”
“Nope. Don’t know it, don’t want to know it and don’t care.”
When Jerry got home, he answered a couple of questions for me, but became almost immediately impatient. “Now look what you’ve done,” he said, pointing to a cell on the grid. “You’ve got a circular reference. It won’t work that way.”
“Instead of trying to make me feel stupid,” I said, “why don’t you help me?”
“I wasn’t trying to make you feel stupid.”
“Well, you are.”
“Fine. Do it yourself.” He left me alone, for which, I realized, I was grateful. His help was tinged with criticism. So I looked up “circular reference” in the online help to see what kind of sin I had committed. After a couple hours, I was beginning to understand how the thing worked. It wasn’t so complicated after all. In fact, it worked almost exactly the same as it did on paper.
At ten o’ clock, Jerry came in, saying, “Are you going to be playing with that thing all night?”
“I might,” I said coldly. He came up and looked over my shoulder. I was filling in figures now, having completed the formulas.
“That’s not bad,” he said, “for a first attempt.” How gracious he was. “May I make a suggestion?”
“Yes.”
“Change this formula from a simple addition to a sum. If you need to add another row later, you won’t have to recreate the formula.”
It was a good piece of advice. I made the change. I’d apparently 50
gained
4
Rosie’s next scheduled interview was on a local cable TV talk show hosted by David Foster. She asked me to cancel it.
“Why?” I asked.
“I’m tired of evading the issue of my sexual orientation.
Foster is bound to ask me about it. He’s not a particularly kind interviewer.”
“Maybe you should quit evading the issue,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“Answer his questions.”
She said nothing, appearing unsure.
“What have we got to lose?” I asked.
“Let me think about it. There’s not much fight left in me, Jean. I’m tired. A couple more weeks and we can get on with our lives. After this, I’m going to try to rest up for a while. How about you?”
I stuttered. “Uh, I don’t know.” Soon it would all be over.
The idea panicked me. I’d have to find something else to do.
“My daughter gave me a copy of the course catalog from her college,” I said. “I’ve been looking through it, trying to decide on a practical, job-oriented class. I’m just not sure what would make sense.” I produced the catalog and handed it to Rosie.
“Something to do with business, I guess.” Rosie flipped through the pages. “How about beginning economics? That’s a practical, useful starting point.”
“I don’t know. I think money matters are beyond me.”
Rosie stared. “Jean!” She picked up the ledger on the edge of my desk. “What do you call this? For a month, you’ve been keeping the books for my campaign. This is money matters.”
“But all you need to know to do that is how to add and subtract.”
She frowned and put the ledger down. “I wish you’d quit underestimating yourself. It’s getting on my nerves.” Rosie, irritated with me, went into her office and shut the door.
Was I underestimating myself? I opened the ledger and looked at the columns of handwritten figures. We should be doing this on a computer, I thought. And then I remembered that 4
I didn’t know how. That evening I sat in the den at our computer with one of Jerry’s Excel books and Rosie’s campaign ledger and began to teach myself how to build a spreadsheet.
Amy came and looked over my shoulder. “What are you doing, Mom?”
“Teaching myself Excel.”
“They’ve got a class at school.”
“I can’t wait that long. Do you know this, Amy?”
“Nope. Don’t know it, don’t want to know it and don’t care.”
When Jerry got home, he answered a couple of questions for me, but became almost immediately impatient. “Now look what you’ve done,” he said, pointing to a cell on the grid. “You’ve got a circular reference. It won’t work that way.”
“Instead of trying to make me feel stupid,” I said, “why don’t you help me?”
“I wasn’t trying to make you feel stupid.”
“Well, you are.”
“Fine. Do it yourself.” He left me alone, for which, I realized, I was grateful. His help was tinged with criticism. So I looked up “circular reference” in the online help to see what kind of sin I had committed. After a couple hours, I was beginning to understand how the thing worked. It wasn’t so complicated after all. In fact, it worked almost exactly the same as it did on paper.
At ten o’ clock, Jerry came in, saying, “Are you going to be playing with that thing all night?”
“I might,” I said coldly. He came up and looked over my shoulder. I was filling in figures now, having completed the formulas.
“That’s not bad,” he said, “for a first attempt.” How gracious he was. “May I make a suggestion?”
“Yes.”
“Change this formula from a simple addition to a sum. If you need to add another row later, you won’t have to recreate the formula.”
It was a good piece of advice. I made the change. I’d apparently 50
gained
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