Mysteries of Working

I took a little detour the last couple of weeks to read a Ruth Rendell mystery--her latest, No Man's Nightingale--as a reward for staying on my diet for an entire week. (More on that in my diet blog, Following Shirley.) But yesterday I went back to reading Studs Terkel's Working and was once again reminded of what an excellent book it is.

One of the things that struck me about Working is its descriptions of jobs that are no longer available to people. There were quite a few, but those I remember the best so far are telephone operator and installment dealer.

The job of telephone operator was very important back before direct dialing was common and when people didn't have long distance because it was so expensive or because they didn't have a private line. Also very common then was to use a pay phone. So there were a lot of operators, but they weren't paid very well, probably because they were women for the most part and because it wasn't a highly skilled job (at least, according to employers). But the interviewee's description made the work sound very difficult--long days spent sitting in one spot in an uncomfortable chair with a headset on, talking, talking, talking, pulling and pushing the connectors, biting her tongue when a caller was rude or abusive.

The operators weren't allowed many breaks and they weren't allowed to waste time chatting with a caller. Sometimes that was a problem, such as when the person on the other end of the line seemed to desperately need to talk to someone. The operator Terkel interviewed said that she felt bad when a soldier would call from Vietnam and the number he was wanting was busy or not answering and she would have to disconnect even though she could tell he was really lonely and wanted to talk to her.

That made me remember the song by Jim Croce, "Operator," in which he tells the operator that she was "so much more than kind" to stay on the line with him when he was trying to call his old girlfriend who had dumped him for his best friend. I also remembered how little we cared about the soldier during the Vietnam War and how now we would bend over backward to provide the soldier with someone to talk to. Of course, these days we provide them with cell phones and Skype and every other kind of communication device such as email and Facebook and Twitter so they can stay in touch with their loved ones. It makes me feel sad that we were so indifferent to those guys during the Vietnam War.

The job of installment dealer was one I'd never heard of. The man being interviewed said that he sells credit rather than merchandise. He goes door to door asking people what they need and he gets it for them on the installment plan. He works for himself, catering to people who can't go shopping or don't want to and extends credit to them for the cost of the item. He then collects the weekly payment in person. It's amazing to think that this service was still needed back in 1970 when these interviews were being conducted. No one needs the service anymore, of course, thanks to the ubiquity of credit cards, catalogs and online shopping opportunities. And that's too bad, I think. Another opportunity for face-to-face human interaction is gone.

The dealer told an interesting story about riots in the city where he worked (Chicago, probably) following the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. in 1968. He had many customers in the ghetto, he said, and had a hard time getting to them to collect his weekly payment during and after the riots. A few of his customers were burned out. Some of them, afraid for his life, sent him the payments in the mail. In his description, he speaks respectfully of his impoverished customers. I think he really felt he was needed and was doing them a genuine service. When later in his career he changed to working in the white suburbs, he said, he was dealing with "honkies" who fled the city due to the changing racial mix. He didn't seem to have as much respect for those people.

This is a fascinating collection of stories and one I believe everyone should read. But it's a thick book, so I'll be dwelling in this world a while longer.

Until next time . . .

They're Still There

Bloods, by Wallace Terry, was a great book--disturbing, enlightening, depressing, thought-provoking.  I hadn't read any Vietnam veteran literature for quite some time and this compilation of oral history narratives reminded me of what a complicated war that was and what a shattering experience it was for so many veterans.

The experiences of black veterans is the focus of this collection; their additional difficulties dealing with race issues made their war stories more interesting and in many ways different from the accounts of white or other race combatants who survived the conflict that spanned a decade.

What really struck me about the stories presented in this book is the range of attitudes the men expressed toward Vietnam, the Vietnamese people, the military, the U.S., their reception when they returned home, as well as the impact of race relations and the civil rights struggle that was going on during that time.

Some of the men were bitter or traumatized by what they saw and did while there and angry with the government who sent them there, especially when they were treated so poorly at home.  Others were not critical of the military or the policies that required them to fight. Some believed we were right to go there and still believe it.  Some started out believing in the mission but changed their minds after they'd been there a while.

Some didn't see much action; others saw too much.  A number of them spoke frankly about atrocities that they witnessed (on both sides) or participated in. Those were chilling accounts. Those who seemed to be the most well adjusted were ones who stayed in the military and made a career out of it.  I've always thought that to be true; being around other soldiers probably allowed them to adjust to peacetime in a more gradual way. They had people to talk to who understood what they went through. They weren't judged or feared; they were appreciated.

I've read other accounts from Vietnam veterans, but I think this collection was the most balanced, giving a fuller picture, I think, than those which try to present a more unified view of the war, whether pro or con. I recommend it highly, especially now that we're having to deal with a whole new generation of war veterans. Even though we give them parades and presents, awards and decorations, we shouldn't lose sight of the fact that they are still going to be deeply affected in unpredictable ways by what they have gone through.

And I think we should not lose sight of the fact that many of the Vietnam vets are still out there, still suffering and continue to need our help.  Just because we want to forget how we treated them doesn't mean we should forget them. 

After Bloods I read a light, fluffy little book that was really more of a reference book: French Fun: The Real Spoken Language of Quebec, by Steve Timmins.  It was a dictionary-style collection of French Canadian idioms. It's designed for English-speaking students of French who live in Canada, though, as the author admits, it can also be useful for non-Canadian English speakers.  There were some pretty funny idioms that, when translated literally, evoked a comical mental picture, accompanied, in some cases, by an actual picture--a drawing depicting its literal meaning. It was a much more entertaining read than I had imagined it would be.  Another "T" book accomplished!

Until next time!