Journal of a Sabbatical

September 28, 1999

now what?

Link of the Day:

Jeffrey Masson

Today's Starting Pitcher Sox vs. Sox rained out.

Today's Reading: Danube by Claudio Magris

The insurance adjuster finally looked at the car this morning, and of all things, he pronounced it fixable. I find it hard to believe it's not totaled but the insurance adjuster's word is law. I honestly don't know whether I am happy about this or not. On the one hand, I want my car back, not a new car that hasn't developed a history yet. On the other hand, can they fix it as good as new? Will it be safe? Will I feel strange in it knowing that the thieves were in it? And what are they doing with my sunglasses and beach chair? Presumably they've sold the binoculars and scope.

I remain clueless about the content of the message the universe is trying to send me. I joked to Nancy that His Holiness has put a curse on me for canceling the Milan trip because my real purpose was to see Joan-west and not His Holiness. Let's see, if bad speech karma caused the road at Vajrapani to wash out (as opposed to bad road grading karma?), what kind of transgression caused my bad car karma? I have no idea. Nancy says that the universe ought to be sending me good things like used books.

Speaking of used books: Evidently I mistyped my credit card number when I ordered Food Habits of North American Diving Ducks through bibliofind.com. I got e-mail from the book dealer in Manitoba telling me the credit card wouldn't go through and requesting confirmation of the number so he could try again. So now I have bad credit card karma too? What's next? Another round of bad long distance service karma?

My plan was to go to Newburyport early tonight so I could spend some time browsing at Old Port Books before the MRFRS dinner. I figure it's pointless to go look at migrating shorebirds without binoculars so used books are the next best thing. The Jeffrey Masson book signing (for his new (to be released on Thursday) book, The Emperor's Embrace, about fatherhood in animals) is at 5:00 and dinner is at 6:30.

I've felt sort of crappy all day so I reconsidered and stayed close to home cleaning and messing with the computer and reading until 5:30 then drove up to Newburyport just in time for the dinner.

My knowledge of Newburyport is imperfect. I hadn't realized until tonight that The Phoenix Room is right above Old Port Books. Somebody should've taken Masson downstairs to meet Domino and watch her intuit his taste in used books. That would definitely convince him to write about cats.

Dinner was vegetarian of course - we're all animal lovers. Masson was an entertaining and charismatic speaker who doesn't know much about cats. He told some great stories about encounters with wild elephants, psychoanalysis, dogs, Sanskrit, and what he'd like to learn about cats. He talked about a future project in which he'd live in Newburyport and get to know our feral cats and the cats at our shelter and then write a book about cat emotions.

People did share stories with Masson at his invitation, especially Josh the special needs kid who folds laundry in the afternoon (whom Jaguar adores). Josh is pretty observant and is uninhibited about sharing his thoughts. It was interesting to watch Masson interact with him. Our table actually was quite engaged in the discussion. Regina, the vet who owns the building and has her clinic downstairs, answered some questions he raised about the effects of neutering on dogs' personalities, and some other stuff. I got the impression that one could have some pretty entertaining conversations with this guy.

One thing I would have liked to hear him talk about, though it would be more interesting after he does his "live in Newburyport and get to know feral cats" project, is what it's like for an outsider to discover that behind the upscale shops and the carefully preserved Federalist period architecture Newburyport is a real city. When you come to Newburyport from Berkeley or elsewhere in the big wide world, Newburyport can look like a New England maritime history theme park. Do the tourists notice the cats? Do they see how much healthier they are? Do the tourists encounter the current poet laureate, Christopher Michael, and do they know he's in a tradition that goes back to Jonathan Plummer who was crowned poet laureate by Timothy Dexter with an actual laurel wreath? And do they know he adopted a cat from us? Have they met Christopher Michael's neighbor Charlie, the one-legged guy who adopted our three-legged cat, Lefty, and sends us newsy notes signed "Yours in Christ, Lefty"?

I came home wishing I could get it together to write a book about Jaguar's inner life or Wilbur's. Somehow I ought to be able to use all my experience to get and communicate some insight on the inner lives of cats, but cats really are as inscrutable as the pundits say they are. I wish Masson luck in his cat project if he really attempts it.