The Centre Holds

When I talk (or blog) about myself in my younger days, I always joke about what a loser I was and how much I’ve changed since then. That is true—I have matured a lot, especially since I became a mother. My values have changed, I take things much more seriously and I am more responsible. However, two humorous incidents of late have made me wonder how much I’ve really changed.

Friday the phone rang and a stern recorded message asked me to call an 800 number. It turned out it was for a credit agency in Peterborough (the town where I lived in my twenties). BP and I assumed it would be about a parking ticket, but when I called the number and was put on hold for the Provincial Offences Division, I got this nagging feeling this was no parking ticket. Turns out it was an unpaid fine for consuming alcohol in public. I vaguely recall an incident with a traveller, an “uptight” police officer, and a belligerent drunk girl. Anyway, I owe them $95. BP just shook his head and told me my Christmas stocking budget is shot. Something like this is probably wouldn’t happen today. Probably not.

The second funny moment was yesterday when I was working on my term paper about Coleridge’s use of water imagery. As I sat with head in hands studying the Rime of the Ancient Mariner, I recalled a similar moment when I was sixteen. In high school I was a metal head. I hung out with the tough kids, getting high in the smoking area at school. I wore a jean jacket with a big Iron Maiden patch on the back. Iron Maiden had a song called The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. My stoned 16-year old self had gotten a copy of the Coleridge poem to try to gain a better understanding of Iron Maiden. Funny thing was, I fell in love with that poem way back then.

As much as we change, there is a core of ourselves that stays intact. I’ve always loved poetry. I’ll always resent authority.

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