January 28, 2019 – “When are you going to rehang the curtains?”

        Yes, we have been living in a literal fish bowl the last few days.  The double window in the formal dining room is naked – yes, and all the neighbors can look in as they drive by.

         And, honestly, many are slowing down and peering in to see what we are up to.  One neighbor caught me on the 3-step ladder painting the woodwork and even paused to give me a big smile and wave.

         Maybe the entire neighborhood will get the “improvement” bug and the property values will go up.  Then the taxes will go up – I’m not sure I like the latter part of that theory. 

         Wall number two is now painted and I can safely put back up the curtains.

         Wall number three is coming up a little later today – this will require the scaffolding.  I’ve never worked on scaffolding so I am looking forward to the experience.

         In the next few days I might be off line – I will have to shut the computer down and remove it to safety in the next few days – but I am not gone – only “gone dark” temporarily.

         But, living in a “fish bowl” brings back a poignant memory from the time we lived in Seaford, Delaware, during one of many corporate moves.   

         I helped packed my husband’s travel bag for a business trip to Florida where he was going to work on a special project at a satellite plant.  I was working at a law office and he called me midday with last minute reminders and kisses. He was flying out that afternoon and would touch bases with me in the morning when he had a telephone number where he could be reached in case of emergency.  [This was way before cell phones even came into existence.]

         On the way home from work I decided to do a bit of grocery shopping and deciding to make my life easier, I picked up a few frozen dinners.  Back in the old days they were called TV dinners and sometimes I even revert to that quaint name now.   Back then, I did not have a microwave so what I picked up were the little tin trays with the frozen food in same and then capped with a tinfoil top which were baked in a conventional oven.

         I casually picked up one of this, one of that, oh, that looks interesting, and put a weeks’ worth in my cart.

         The next morning as I was making my coffee prior to going off to work, my husband telephoned.

         “We live in a fish bowl,” were the his first words.

         “What?”

         “I hadn’t even got to having dinner with the boss down here and I got the report that ‘your poor wife has been reduced to frozen dinners’.

         “Are you serious?”

         “Yes – you did buy frozen dinners when you were shopping yesterday after work?”

         “I thought it would be easier than cooking for just one.”

         “Well someone saw you and it hit the wild-fire gossip mill.  I was embarrassed to say the least.”

         “I didn’t see anyone I knew in the grocery store.”

         “Well you wouldn’t, you haven’t met all the troops.”  [Troops is what he called his employees.]

         “How would they even know me?”

         “I’ve brought you to the plant a few times for you to see the new tools, everyone knows everyone in that burg.”

         “Well, what am I supposed to do?”

         “Just know that you are being watched and they will probably be reporting everything you do.  Use discretion.”

         He didn’t say I miss you or I love you or any endearment because he felt ‘company ears’ were listening to his telephone call.

         Use discretion.  What was that supposed to mean? 

         I didn’t know anyone except plant management and their wives and the people I worked with in a small three-person law office.

         I mentioned the situation to my attorney-boss. He had the biggest belly laugh but confirmed the strength and breadth of the gossip mill in the area pointing out there were only three big places of employment in town, and my husband worked at one of them.  There were few outsiders and most everyone was born and raised in the area. 

         That was the day my attorney-boss mentioned that I shouldn’t even shop at “that” particular grocery store as it was for the blacks.  I didn’t comprehend what he was really saying as the prices were good and the store was close to the office.

         “Why?”

         “Let me phrase this differently, don’t shop after dark at ‘that’ store. But, if you still want to grocery shop at ‘that’ store please do it at lunch time and take your groceries home and don’t worry if you return to work late.”

         I ate every one of those dreadful TV dinners for several evenings waiting for my husband’s return.

         The first night back he took me out to dinner at a nice restaurant hoping the gossip mill could report to the boss that I was being treated like a corporate wife should be treated.

         We know the real meaning of living in a fish bowl.