The John Steinbeck House, Museum, and Restaurant in Salinas, the lettuce-bowl of California.
This week the Steinbeck Festival celebrates its 30th Anniversary at the National Steinbeck Center in Salinas, CA. Since I live fairly close (45 miles north or so), I’ve attended many events over the years. Hanging out at a place that celebrates writing and honors a Nobel Prize Winner for Literature is my idea of fun!
The bedroom of John Steinbeck's parents and where he was born in 1902.
This year I signed up for the tour and a luncheon at the boyhood home of John Steinbeck. It was fun at the beginning, but not at the end. A man at our table basically told me to shut up while I was answering a question he had asked me. Guess he didn’t like my answer! Or was it my outfit? My hair? My gender? Did I look like his ex-wife?
Or maybe the attention wasn’t on him anymore? Was I supposed to know his name as a “beloved journalist” from Santa Barbara? Or maybe he was channeling Steinbeck, who was known to display an uncouth side from time to time?
Oh who cares?
Well, part of me must have because I fumed in my car on the way home. I wish I had said something SNOTTY like, “Well excuuuuse me! I guess I’ll put my BURQA on so you won’t have to deal with me.”
OR: I wish I would have leaped across the table at him, grabbed him by the shirt collar, and growled in a low scary Clint Eastwood kinda way, “You talk to me like that again, mister, and you won’t recognize your face when you wake up.”
Instead, I acquiesced. I laughed and apologized and said I can get carried away talking about my blog. Within seconds (when my REAL self emerged) I was mad at myself for not calling out the curmudgeon for what he was: A Jerk.
No offense to the other previously lovely and well-mannered people at the table, but they all sat there like bumps on logs.
The dining room where Steinbeck and his family ate, which is now a restaurant. I don't know how John felt, but I sure don't have fond memories of this room!
I was appalled at the insult. And embarrassed. Where is a chivalrous man when you need him? (Oh yeah, mine was at work.) I couldn’t wait to get out of Steinbeck’s house.
On the way home, I also thought about the implications of a men who want to silence women. What’s that about? There are probably lots of reasons; probably most of which are a control/power thing or have fear-based motives.
I think we need as many voices to be heard as possible. So in the middle of the scrum of cacophony, harmony may emerge—or at least a hummable tune we can all dance to.
I think the road to silencing women ends in a cesspool in hell called the Taliban.
When I got home, I googled the guy and obtained his email. I shot off this jolly little communiqué:
Hi Beloved Journalist,
I sat across from you at lunch today at the Steinbeck House. You asked me about my blog. I explained what and why I write–with ‘tad bit’ of passion! –that I guess was too much for you?
You interrupted me and in a haughty tone, barked at me, “Can we get back to John Steinbeck?!” (You should have seen the contorted look emanating from your face. Très icky.)
In case you are not familiar with basic polite discourse in public with people you don’t know, interrupting me and spitting out a demand was rude and disrespectful.
Had my husband insulted someone like that in public I would have told him to apologize. But being a gentleman, he would never engage in such boorish behavior.
Hope you and your wife are having a fun summer of traveling.
Sincerely,
Toni Dockter
P.S. In case you didn’t notice, during said offense (either mine or yours depending how you look at it), the conversation about Steinbeck had long since expired.
*-*
Last thought: Do you think Admiral Thad Allen would bark at a woman?
