Apparently, I’m not done being ridiculous. I stumbled into being a moderator for a Black Lives Matter ally book club. I hadn’t intended to start a book club let alone try to lead one to support Black Lives Matter, an area in which I consistently make the very mistakes that liberals make that promote racism. I will probably tell you a whole bunch of embarrassing stories about my journey but today is one more good example.
This week, I struggled to figure out how I could stay at home to keep my family protected against the pandemic and still become an ally. I sent a letter to my local police department. I haven’t gotten a response, but that’s a great opportunity to be lame, not to follow up if I don’t get a response. Then, I drove through the Black Lives Matter protest in my area and beeped my horn a bunch of times and cheered people. I drove back and forth a few more times, then went home with my banners still in my windows. I can’t tell you how ridiculous I felt when I realized that I probably honked and shouted over a black leader who was trying to make a point and deserved to be heard.
Then, I posted that I wanted to discuss Ijeoma Oluo’s book So You Want to Talk About Race and a bunch of people responded, people I know who are up on social justice, and me. Anyway, I began to organize. I bought a copy of her book because when I read it before, I’d checked it out from the library. It was time for me to have a copy, to make notes, and to send monetary support a black author I liked. I was excited that it was scheduled to arrive in two days. That would be today in the afternoon! Then, a friend who was joining the group asked me if I could pick up another copy while I was there.
Where? I was shopping online!
So, I ordered her a copy, sent it to her house. Even that said it should arrive on Sunday in the afternoon. I was already a great moderator, wasn’t I?
Yesterday, I sat down on my computer and figured out all the email addresses of people who didn’t respond when I asked for email so I could send them a Zoom link. I looked at updating to pay for a longer session, but figured we could squeeze everything into the free forty minutes. Then, I figured out why my computer wouldn’t let me set up a recurring meeting and what that blip was that stopped me regarding the password. Mike helped me through that. I interrupted him working for his actual job to help me crawl out of the technical hole I’d dug for myself.
Five minutes after I sent the email, someone emailed me to say they had a paid subscription and we could use that if I wanted. I did want, but I was worried that this woman was notoriously late. I’d have to eat it and say yes for the sake of the time. We would probably need that time. It was just one more way I would be ridiculous as the moderator of this group.
And speaking of ridiculous, I’m the person who talks too much, who forgets herself and interrupts. Who on earth thought I would make a great moderator?
I did. Or rather, I didn’t think, but I leaped in without thinking.
This afternoon, I checked Amazon to see if my book was here yet. I was too lazy to walk around to all the places they’ve delivered packages in the past.
Yup. It was delivered. I walked around the house to all the places they’ve delivered packages in the past. Nothing.
I checked again. The delivered copy was my friend’s copy that was delivered to her house. Check. I’m helping.
My copy, however, would be delivered tomorrow evening.
Tomorrow? How could I moderate a book club about a book that I didn’t even have in my hot little hands? How could I remember what I’d read more than a year and a half ago? Why had the Universe plotted to let my friend’s copy arrive in time and mine a day too late?
Because I am ridiculous. Even Amazon wishes it to be so.
Thank you for listening, jules