A few months before retiring, in March of 2005, Jules found himself at his final work conference. It was an all-day affair in Harrisburg. Jules took the Amtrak through Pennsylvania Dutch country. The trip from Philly was a little under two hours. Jules forgot how much he used to love the train. The womb-like sway and the hypnotic rumble of the giant steel wheels on the railroad tracks.
The train reminded Jules of his many trips up to New York City and Boston through the 1960s and early-70s. Nostalgia swept over Jules as the train carried him past the Amish settlements near Lancaster.
Thoughts drifted in and out. An image from Club 47 in Harvard Square. Probably the autumn of 1963, when Jules was just out of college. His girlfriend from senior year was Eva. A poet and watercolor artist with wavy auburn hair who’d transfixed Jules at a party a year earlier. She’d moved back home to Brookline after graduation. They walked the sidewalks of Cambridge, eventually seeing barefoot Joan Baez and Bob Dylan one night, when the seeds of revolution were sprouting all over the northeast and west coast. Jules daydreamed of his youth while the train rattled west.
Another moment in time came into focus. Years later, stumbling around Alphabet City in the early years of his time with Lisa. Sharing a joint and a beer, people watching at the café, and then stopping in for a show. 1971. A weekend trip before their wedding. The year before Reva arrived and they settled into married life.
On this particular trip in 2005, Jules had Santa Barbara and sunshine on his mind. He and Violet spent weekends on her computer, using the internet, continuously searching on a real estate company’s site for possible homes to visit that summer. They planned to move a year later, but wanted to buy before the move. The Philly winter was finally nearing its end. An April snowstorm was the worst. Late-March was second-worst. Jules didn’t mind if he never saw a shovel again.
The thrilling subject of the work conference: modernizing educational textbooks with technology (PDFs!) with the newly-adopted Pennsylvania state standards now in place. When he sat down at the conference table, Jules found a yellow six-sided foam cube in the center. One of a handful of objects laid out on a tray, next to Altoids, keychains, bottled water, small packages of snacks, pens and post-its. He kept the old cube at his desk now. The letters were fading but he could still make them out.
On one side, it read: Be calm, be quiet, be kind. Jules thought of a free giveaway cube that said the opposite: be erratic, be loud, be cruel. On another side, it read: Strong, smart, fearless. It didn’t read: weak, daft, terrified. As he flipped it to another side, it read: Make it happen! It didn’t read: Don’t make anything happen. Rotating it again, the cube read: Yes! I can do it. It didn’t read: I’d prefer not to do it unless required. On yet another side, it read: Take a deep breath. It did not read: hyperventilate. On the final side, it read: Don't give up. It didn’t read: Give up very quietly, so nobody notices.
After the conference ended, Jules felt a sense of relief. His final day-long work conference was behind him. He boarded the train, feeling victorious. Violet met him in the early-evening dark at the Ardmore Station and then took him out for a celebratory Thai dinner. The next day, he brought the cube to work and shared it with his nearby office companion, Eugene. At Jules’ retirement party, Eugene gave him a similar six-sided foam cube, this one was green. Eugene had it specially made with the less-motivational sayings. When Jules was feeling especially depressed, he took out Eugene’s foam cube and rolled it.
It was there on the desk now. Jules rolled it. Hyperventilate. It wasn’t safe to hyperventilate past age 80. He rolled it again. Weak, daft, terrified. One more roll. Give up very quietly, so nobody notices.
Eugene was in his 60s now, much younger than Jules. He’d moved on from educational publishing a few years after Jules left the office. Eugene and his partner had started a bed-and-breakfast near Eugene, Oregon. Jules sat down at his computer and emailed Eugene in Eugene.
Eugene,
I’m here at my desk and I saw that retirement gift. It still makes me laugh. I’m sitting here after having met Ako. She will be my new daily helper in the mornings. She is organized and pleasant. She loves Joel Embiid, so we can watch the Sixers together. My fears of being a helpless old man are coming true, but it’s not so bad. Hope you and Tony are happy and the inn is occupied!
Love,
Jules