One of the dictionary definitions of conundrum is "an intricate and difficult problem." (Merriam-Webster's Collegiate dictionary). My conundrum now is "how to fit eleven rooms full of stuff from forty-six years into two rooms plus bath and one closet." I have recently moved from my house of the past nineteen years to the Pioneer Home, a home for retired people. We had an estate sale at my house, so that took care of the furniture and furnishings that I didn't want to take with me and cleaned out the house. But my house had such an abundance of storage space, and I think I filled up every extra space with memorabilia, writers course and conference notes, college notes and papers, letters, cards, pictures, etc. Now it is my job to sort through all that and throw much away. I don't want to throw it away until I read it or at least look at it, so I'm overwhelmed. One of the blessings is reading letters from my parents, sisters and friends. It seems people understood my situations and cared for me more than I thought at the time. Now I'd like to contact them again, but many are gone from this earth. However, I am writing a "Christmas in May" letter to contact as many as possible. So much for my "conundrum."
Here is a sample of my fiction writing showing how two teenagers solved their conundrum.
A Ticket Fiasco From the day I’d first seen our new neighbor, Lily, I’d wanted to be her special friend, maybe even take her to the prom. Butch said, “Dream on, buddy. Better find someone your own skin color!” We are all in the same Sunday School class so, ignoring Butch, I asked Lily if I could give her a ride to the bus the day of the culture day trip, and she readily agreed. The day started out great. I picked up our bus tickets from school, then rode my scooter to her house. “Good morning, Lily,” I said. “We should make it to the Greyhound station in plenty of time for the ten o’clock departure.” We knew something was wrong when we walked into the nearly empty station. Where are our classmates? We were all supposed to ride the same bus. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I asked at the ticket booth. His answer felt like a club hitting me in the chest. “That bus left at 9.” I stared at him numbly, then dug out our tickets and stared at them. “Uh oh!” “What’s the matter, Antonio?” Lily asked. I looked into her sweet, blue eyes. How could I deliver this blow? “The bus left at nine.” “Oh no! You told me ten.” (She was absent the day we got the bus announcement.) “I know. I’m so sorry.” Lily crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “So what do we do now?” I studied the tickets, hoping they’d change their minds. Oh God! What should I do? We found a bench nearby and sat down. I could feel her irritation. It burned a hole in my dreams. So much for friendship. “There’s no way we could catch that bus with your scooter.” “No, I’m not even allowed to take the scooter out on the highway.” Lily leaned back against the wall, sighing. “I suppose we’ll get an F since we won’t be able to do this assignment. She sounded defeated. “Yeah.” I kicked a pebble away. “No, wait a minute!” I turned to her, feeling lit up like a light bulb. “Lily, what exactly did the assignment say?” With a puzzled look, she quoted: “Write a paper about the differences between two cultures.” “That’s all, right?” “Yes.” “OK. So the busload is going to a museum which has a Black History display and a Hispanic display. We can’t experience the culture the way the rest of the class will. But you and I have our own two cultures. You’re Caucasian-American and I’m African-American. We can interview each other and go to the library. If we write good papers, we should get good grades.” Lily’s eyes lit up like a sunrise. “We can also look at that display at the tea shop—they have some paintings of black people and some of white.” “I don’t remember seeing that.” “They just put it up recently in honor of Martin Luther King Day and President’s day.” We high-fived and picked up our backpacks. “Let’s go to the tea shop first. We can look at the paintings, then sit in a booth and write our impressions…” “then interview each other over lunch,” she added, eyes shining Alright, I thought. Maybe this day will turn out better than I thought a few minutes ago. Suddenly, Lily turned around as we walked out the door, bumping into me. I knocked my head on the door frame and nearly fell. “Ohhh, Sorry!” Lily exclaimed. “I just thought...since we can’t use the bus tickets, can you get a refund?” I rubbed my head. “Good idea. Lunch money.” I went to the ticket desk and had to wait several minutes, but finally got a refund. At the tea shop, I parked the scooter and we went in. “What differences do you notice in these pictures?” I asked, pointing to two, “They dress a little differently, don’t they?” “Yes, but I think these are depicting scenes from a couple hundred years ago. Do you see that much difference now?” “No. ‘Course, we are both Americans." In a booth, after ordering lunch, we interviewed each other. “Holiday traditions? Family relationships?” After discussing these and other questions, we discovered something. Since we both came from Christian families, we had more similarities than differences. After lunch, we went to the Public Library and asked the librarian for help on finding information about cultures. We checked into dances, celebrations, clothes, attitudes toward relatives, and several other things. “I think we have enough material to write good papers, don’t you, Lily?” “Yes. We should go now.” At Lily’s house later, she said, “Thanks Antonio. I had a lot of fun and we solved our problem together. You’ve become a good friend today.” As she went inside, I smiled and pumped my fist in the air.
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