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May 01, 2020
New theme for May
To begin this month of May, I will not be writing the usual group of stems I develop from each letter of the new theme word. Ordinarily those 'stems' become beginning lines of blog posts. I did this last month however, not pleased with the results, I am dispensing with this exercise. A different but happy coincidence is that today's writers group 'assignment' provided me with the first line for tonight's blog: 'It was the first day of May.'
Over the past month in fairly early pandemic times, my characters have shown times of great confidence or times of insecurity. Both are human traits that we all share. In that light, I have decided that this month’s theme will be Confidence. This story, the first for the month of May, highlights Digby’s most unusual lack of confidence. Digby’s Conundrum is written as much as possible in the language of Digby. Correct and clear.
June 13, 2020
Review, Edit and Update: Not much to fix for Episode 38.
Digby’s Conundrum takes us into the privacy of Digby’s mind. A private and very reserved man, dealing with feelings is not one of his skills, nor is asking for help. However, when faced with a problem, Digby is resourceful, even in the face of discomfort.
Digby’s Conundrum
It was the first day of May. Digby sincerely wanted to do something for Martha. Her birthday was coming up soon. Because he conducted all their employment interviews, Digby knew all the staff’s birth dates, not just Martha's. James Edward Digby, longtime butler for the Beaufort Estate, was troubled. Digby did not like feeling troubled. Problems or issues always had solutions. Some more difficult than others, but always solvable. This particular issue had become a constant worry in his otherwise ordered and orderly life. Sitting at his desk in his modest house just outside of the grounds of the Beaufort Estate, he was trying to prepare the Agenda for the upcoming Staff meeting.
Giles, chauffeur for the Beaufort Estate, had pressed him on how he and Martha were when he visited one afternoon. Maintaining the correct social distance, and enjoying a lovely spring afternoon, they had taken their lunch and chairs to the orchard. Looking down the rows of newly flowering apple trees, Digby could not help but be reminded of Martha. He really couldn’t say what it was, because he had no facility with such words. When Giles tried to have him speak of any ‘relationship’ between he and Martha, he wanted to fidget, get up and return home. Digby, however, did not do such things. He maintained a professional demeanour at all times with his staff. Martha was, in fact, one of the staff. Exceptional in her work as Housekeeper for the Beaufort Estate, he relied on her judgement, her candour and her kindness.
Digby had trained himself to carefully deflect any unpleasantness or issues of a personal nature using diplomacy and tact. He was praised by guests and staff alike, even Mrs. Beaufort, for this trait. This particular issue however had melted away his inflexible exterior. He had been unable to show his affection for Martha and at the same time maintain his professionalism. His father, his mentor and role model for his career, never seemed to have that problem. Was it because he was already married? He and Digby’s mother loved each other dearly. Was it because of his way of laughing at the simplicity of life’s issues? Or could it be that…..Digby stopped. His thoughts were running wild. This time, above all others, was when he missed his father’s counsel greatly. Giles had often reminded him of his father. They shared the same amusement and great sensitively to Digby’s plight.
Would the staff meeting be the correct venue to show his affection or would it be dreadfully inappropriate? He hadn’t realized that the single red rose surrounded by carnations was a topic of speculation by the staff; bouquets that he sent regularly for the kitchen table. When asked for his speculation, Digby suggested that they may just for all to enjoy.
Digby had his work to do. He knew he must set the agenda for this first staff meeting. The first since returning from isolation. Covid19 restrictions would have their place on the agenda. For this meeting, the main issue was how they would be returning to work. Would this be all on the same day? If so what restrictions were needed to maintain distance but allow the right work to be done? Which doors should be designated entry and exit? Mrs. Beaufort was next on the agenda. Digby was annoyed with himself. She should be first on the agenda. Initially, she was going to attend the whole meeting, an action very unlike her, however this had changed. At first, she had wanted to present some ideas of community outreach in aid of Covid19 relief. She had since told Digby that her only appearance would be a brief.
Digby ordinarily created well-ordered agendas very quickly. Martha's face and voice continued to ruffle the otherwise calm waters of his mind. What am I to do, father? He could only imagine his father’s reply. Well, my boy ~ my all too serious boy ~ maybe you need to talk with somebody else. I’m no longer on your earthly plain. Who could you talk with? You know that even the greatest men need someone to talk with who are flesh and blood.” Digby often had such conversations with his father but often disturbingly more distant and unsatisfactory. Digby kept himself to himself and truly believed he had no need for a confidante. As long as he could remember his father clearly, there was no need. Giles had become the closest he could come to having that sort of support.
But Digby still had the Agenda to clear up.
- Each staff member: ideas about return to work and plans.
- Questions when Mrs. Beaufort is present:
- Job status
- Pay status
- Do we need a schedule for numbers of staff present each day.
- Other precautions that need to be in place: gloves, masks, designated doors for exit and entry.
Digby was not satisfied with this agenda. Another ruffle in his placid world. The addition of items during a meeting were inconsequential. Martha. He should be angry with her for upsetting his clear and concise state of mind. But he just couldn’t. She was too much like the single rose in those bouquets. She had done nothing but be a gentle, kind and sweetly chatty woman. Martha reminded him of the one girl who had wrapped around his affections. It was the first of May. They were in high school in a tiny town in the Interior of B.C. Each year on the first of May, there was a May Day celebration. The town of Trumble didn’t have much to put it on the map except for their May Pole and the annual celebration. Digby remembered little of those years, especially when Charlotte was in his presence. A shy boy, young James was entranced by the young girls weaving patterns with beautifully coloured ribbons around the Maypole. One girl shone more beautifully than the others. Her long auburn hair glistened in the sunlight. Her face was aglow with her joy in the dance. Her creamy skin seemed almost translucent. Her laugh was so very musical. James could still remember that first MayDay. Charlotte Milford was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. Too timid, he only watched her from afar. At 56, he was still that shy boy. Should I not be able to approach Martha privately? Yes indeed. I know what I need to do. Talk to Giles. Find out the right way to do this, to talk with her outside of work. Digby set aside the frustrating Agenda and picked up his phone.
“Good evening Giles. I have something I would like to discuss with you. I know it’s late tonight. Could you meet me tomorrow morning at the Estate? About nine?”
“Sure can, James. What’s up?”
“I have a personal matter I’d like to discuss. There’s something important I want to do. I need some advice about how to go about it.”
“From me, James? You usually have everything quite organized. Does it have anything to do with Martha?”
“Giles, I don’t wish to talk about the specifics over the phone. I’ll get to the Estate early to make coffee and warm up some of Cook’s cinnamon buns that you like so much.”
“Whatever you say, James. Coffee and Cook’s baking sounds great. I’ll be there at 9 a.m. sharp.”
“My feelings are too loud for words and too shy for the world.”
~ Dejan Stojanovic
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