Living in Rome

by Jim Randolph

I shy away from writing about my life since November 18, because most of what I have to say isn’t really the sort of thing people want to hear. And I don’t blame them. Most of my efforts were bent, I now think, towards not really processing an overwhelming grief. That and trying to gain a measure of security, if only of a material kind. The end result was that I managed to recreate a Temple-like work schedule while re-schooling, working as a programmer/analyst and rehabbing 24 houses. I didn’t join groups to effect positive ends, I didn’t develop an addiction, or go to jail, or turn my life around by finding god. None of those things. Really all I did was try to learn the ways of Rome now that I had to live there. But when your tale is mainly of accomplishments in this one arena, telling someone about them sounds like, “Look at me, I did a bunch of houses. Aren’t I grand?” And I don’t have much else to tell about.

Last modified on November 20th, 2013.
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