The search for a noble cause

My grandpa was the kind of guy who looked at his retirement home as a death march. He hated bingo and probably wanted to start an underground fight club at Wynnfield Crossing, just like the valiant old men in tonight’s episode of Private Practice. My grandpa boxed back in the day. He also fought in World War II, hopped trains out West in hopes of making it into the movies, survived the Depression, started several businesses throughout his lifetime, fathered six children and loved my grandma and his children with his whole being.

My grandma went to college at a time when women didn’t much care about higher education. She moved from her small Indiana town to L.A. and then Chicago, much to her parents’ disapproval. She too survived the Depression, gave birth to six children, supported my grandpa in his ventures, and committed herself to her family.

It’s no wonder, then, that I turned out the way I did. Heck, if I have to claim my grandma’s bunions, I’m going to also stake claim in her adventurous attitude and “I don’t care if it’s never been done before” mentality. I’m also going to claim my grandpa’s entrepreneurial spirit and iron-clad commitment. Some seem to think those two qualities don’t mix well, but my sanity is banking on the chance that they do.

I just received notification that I’ve been invited to interview for a New York City teaching fellowship. It’s an impressive fellowship, not to mention somewhat selective, but I find myself hesitating because moving to New York would just add one more location to the laundry list of places I’ve lived in the past four years. Will my family members roll their eyes and start a collection for therapy? (I’d take it if they did.) Will my friends stop being supportive of my vagabond nature? Will I one day end up like Chris McCandless, wandering in the wilderness and losing all perspective on what life’s really about purely because I tried so hard to figure out what life’s really about?

I’ll continue contemplating all of the above, but, for now, I know that corporate America is not my home. Helping form the life of an underprivileged, inner-city New York student who is trying to master the English language in a foreign land? Now that seems like a noble cause. For now, I’ll continue to pray that God will take my hand and lead me in his direction.