I received a call yesterday afternoon. The museum director, who’ve I’ve talked to several times over the past few weeks, called and said, “We’d like you to join our team.” I was overjoyed. She wanted me to think it over, but she said that everyone thought I was the perfect person for the job. I have been thinking it over a lot. I’ve prayed about it, and I knew that if this was what was in God’s plan for me then it would happen. I will call later this morning and officially accept the job and begin the process of finding a place to live.
Vermont, here I come. I’ve read what a lot of people say about how rural Vermont is, how unfriendly the people are, and how cold the winters will be. I grew up in a rural area and currently live in a rural area. I am more comfortable here than in a huge city, but Vermont is also one of the most liberal states in the country. Also, everyone I met was incredibly friendly. I realize that I will always be a “flatlander” but I’m ok with that. No one who ever moves to Alabama would ever be a true Alabamian. It’s part of the culture of the United States. As for the winters, I realize that they will be brutal, but I also know one thing, I have always loved cold weather. I hate the heat and humidity of the South. If there were three things I could change about the South, they’d be: the heat, the politics, and the racism. All are so ugly and hateful and cause people to be crazy.
So I am beyond excited to be moving. This is a dream job. It is doing something I love and am very good at, but it is also something that I never thought I’d have the chance to do. I may be teaching some, but I also may not be. We haven’t really discussed that. While I’ll be working at a university, I’ll be working in the university’s museum, not in the classroom. I’m good with that. The last five years teaching high school has traumatized me as far as classrooms go, though college students are always better to teach. The point is, I will be a historian. I didn’t spend all those years in undergrad and grad school studying history not to be a real historian, now that will actually be in my job title.
I’m going to ask today if they will offer a moving compensation package, but since that has not been mentioned, I don’t think it is likely, which means that it will take most of my savings to move and get settled. However, if anyone who reads this has any leads on a place to rent in central Vermont that is affordable, please let me know. Just send me an email (email@example.com). Any help in this regard would be greatly appreciated. I’m told that the university’s HR department is wonderfully helpful with finding places for people to live, but any additional help would be appreciated too.
My happiness cannot be fully expressed in words. When I first saw the announcement for this job, I thought I was the right fit. When I met the staff at the museum, I knew I was the right fit. I just had to convince them of that, and apparently I did. I look forward to moving, I look forward to a new life, and I look forward to living openly (again) as a gay man.
Out of all the joy over the job, and the congratulations from family and friends, there was one thing that happened yesterday that will stay in my memory forever. It something that made me very happy because it was something in all the years of my life, I’d never heard. I’ve had many accomplishments, and quite a few failures. My father never failed to point out those failures. He’s a man who means the words he speaks, but he is not a man who has ever praised his son for a job well done. He would always say that I could have done better. Yet yesterday when I called to tell him that I got the job, his response was, “I’m proud of you.” Not once in my life, when I kept a 4.0 GPA though high school and graduated valedictorian, when I graduated college with honors, when I graduated with my master’s, or any of the other accomplishments of my life has he ever said he was proud of me, but yesterday he did, and words can’t express how that made me feel. My daddy is proud of me. I know that may sound childish to be so happy about that, but I’ve waited nearly thirty-eight years to hear those four words. Yesterday, I heard them.
I hope you all realize that, while I’ve had the nickname of “The Professor” for many years now, I won’t be in the closet anymore, so my blog title, won’t be very accurate. Hmmmm, any suggestions?