Lives in process

The short story "The Lady with the Dog," by Anton Chekhov, draws the reader along without relying on traditional plot conventions, like a clear conflict or problem, a climax, or a resolution. It is the story of a man who falls in love with a woman while he's on vacation in Yalta, on the Black Sea. Initially, he doesn't think the attachment is particularly strong, as he has had other affairs before that have been flashes in the pan. But when he goes home, he can't free his mind of Anna, and eventually goes to her city. They continue the affair, but it is not a joyous relationship. They love each other, but by the end both parties realise that they are in for a long and arduous trek. The story ends like this:

"And it seemed as though in a little while the solution would be found, and then a new and splendid life would begin; and it was clear to both of them that they had still a long, long road before them, and that the most complicated and difficult part of it was only just beginning."

I read this story this morning, and then looked up commentary on it. Apparently it's one of the most influential stories ever written. Chekhov had massive impact on the 20th century, and was called in the secondary sources I found this morning the father of modern theatre and short story. TLWTD epitomises what set his fiction apart, and it was indeed this flouting of convention, particularly the lack of resolved ending. He was one of the first to bring fiction into line with the more realistic rhythms of human life, which never reach a point of closure, as each ending is, just as what is written above indicates, the beginning of the next chapter. 

But even chapter is the wrong word. Chapters are discreet from one another, not overlapping. My next chapter, in Indiana, has already begun, in my mind, and in my duties (health forms, scholarship applications, pre-readings, housing arrangements) while the RFS chapter lives on in my physical realm. The students are in their exam chapters, but the twelfth graders are living, to some degree, in their chosen locations for college next year, and 11th graders are trying on seniorhood. 

The Chekhov story is not concerned with preserving or memorialising the past in any way. Each step of human life moves smoothly on, and there is hardly a backward glance. Such was not the case with the Nakba day activities yesterday on campus, which sought to remind students of the war in 1948 when their parents and grandparents were driven from their homes by the new citizens of Israel. The courtyard had refugee tents on it; inside photo displays showed towns that had been left behind and occupied by Israelis; the symbol of the key was dominant, the key which will unlock these territories and allow Palestinians to return to their home land. 

Images of Arab culture in Palestine from before 1948 move me because they show such a normal looking society. Peaceful, and so similar in rhythm and habit to the community I grew up in. That was less than 70 years ago, but how things have changed. 

Here's Y dressed in thob, the traditional embroidered Palestinian dress, using a real stone grinder which was used for grains and lentils. 

Another Y showed me around the exhibit, explaining the Arabic labels.