Gramma, then middle-aged, was very pleased in seeing her youngest child soaring above her class in academics, her mind as sharp and inquisitive as a mother could hope to see in a child. The whole family had high hopes for Marjorie. Sherry, at that time married and with children, hoped to see Marjorie in some college or university setting, where her competitive nature and whip-crack mind would be exercised in their full glory. Gramma and Grandpa, both still alive at the time, wished to see her in a lucrative, rewarding career, so that she could remain independent, as her attitude suggested she might.
Gramma was reluctant to send her youngest out of the house and into the foreign, unpredictable world of post-secondary education. Although she acknowledged the dogged determination and razor-edge wit of her youngest, she could not defeat a premonition that such drive and idealism on a campus would lead her into unusual trouble… radical groups, intellectual cults, political movements and the like. The family was not accustomed to accommodating or dealing with the fringe elements of society.
Marjorie, a spry youth as always, recognized this anxiety in the months leading up to her departure. In a brief moment of conscientious clarity, sympathizing with her aged mother, she had addressed her concerns while packing up her clothes, ready to move out and onto a campus:
“Mother, we are all sovereign individuals, free to mould and shape our fates inside the paradigms of our time and culture. Every human being is an eternal, ethereal spirit with a brief, timely command over a body, and the actions of one are not as the ripples that disperse over a pond, but rather an earthquake that sends shockwaves through land and water alike, and over great distances of time and space. Our greatest, innermost fear is coming to terms with the realization that our presence in our current and future societal contexts is influential beyond our understanding, powerful beyond our imaginations, and that the effects of our actions will be felt by generations far in the future, even as wind and dust obscure the letters on our headstones.
“I wish for you to understand, Mother, that I’m not going to college simply to acquire the means of a satisfying career and academic fulfillment. While this is true, and I do want any children I may raise to have a substantial inheritance, I pursue an idea that is much more grandiose: I want to live every day of my life with the knowledge that my legacy to future generations of the world will be a greater understanding of the world and its machinations. My desire is that human beings who are yet to be conceived will have a better understanding than us about the fundamental plight of humanity; the plots of the wicked and the hopes of the pure; the ruthless nature of the powerful and the mercy of the poor; the hedonism of the debauched and the indignation of the righteous. I want so badly to be a benefactor of this trans-generational enlightenment, and to learn at the university will accelerate my progress towards that goal.
“Do not be afraid, Mother, that I will become a martyr for an obscure cause in a faraway land. Even if I were to be tempted into such an impulsive act of sensuality, history and logic indicate that we are much more likely to make great impressions on the human landscape by living for a cause, rather than by dying for it. Of the millions of nameless victims who died at the hands of despots throughout history, only a fraction of a percentage of them have become historical figures whose works and words live on, and by these factors will I live. A better and more effective legacy is to pass on to future generations that which we have learned over our years; to consolidate our wisdoms and share our treasures are greater and more profound gestures than the noblest death.
“Of course, all the knowledge in the world would be in vain if we, as a species, had no conduit through which to filter and transmit our ideas. A clean, clear conscience is necessary to navigate the minefield of a free society, and I must make sure that the ends which I pursue do not contradict the means to which I have pledged my work and attention. I know I have been haughty and proud, and that there have been times that my pursuit of knowledge and passion for elaboration has strangled my dwindling humility. I am working on this change so that those around me will be more pleased to engage in my discourse, and so that I become a more tolerable force with you, Dad, and everyone else.
“That is the reason I am packing my bags.”
With such a vivid and memorable declaration of intent for her mother, Marjorie left home in high spirits, with her mother’s blessing and fullest confidence. She arrived on campus with a head full of ideas and an indomitable spirit. Within weeks she was involved in a variety of campus groups, was neck-deep in her studies, and loving every minute of it.
However, her mentality began to take an unpredictable turn before the end of her freshman year. Behind the straight A’s, academic commendations, and club-based leadership awards, her worldview took a turn towards cynicism and doubt. Like anything Marjorie did, though, she fully committed to its resolution.
What was peculiar about this ideological shift, however, was the stress Marjorie felt when considering it. Her passion for studies and achievement had taken a backseat to personal deliberation and anguish. Right up through finals week of her spring semester, she was consumed with her new ideas.
She decided to not return to school as a sophomore, and spent the following year in and out of various jobs, unable to keep one for more than a few weeks. No matter where her paychecks came from, she felt an awkward, inward sort of shame about the whole process of labor and payment. Quite soon, her credibility was very low, as was her self-image. Despite the absence of a career, the young lady was still quite curious and spent a great deal of her time reading, as if she were on a permanent summer vacation; though, the zeal she exhibited in her youth was quickly fading.
Her siblings voiced concerns occasionally about the state of her health and happiness, but were quite wrapped up in furthering their own careers and starting families. The bulk of lectures came from her concerned parents, but whereas butting heads with any other young adult would typically result in stubbornness and expositions of passion, a disagreement with Marjorie’s sharp wit and scourged heart resulted in a verbal tour-de-force of conviction.
During this hiatus of sorts, her family would occasionally voice their concerns or administer a short lecture. Parents and siblings alike informed her that there was nothing wrong with finding the college lifestyle dissatisfying, and that finding a job or an apprenticeship is as respectable and dignified as any tenured position in higher education. What they continually failed to understand is that this was nowhere near the heart of the issue.
One breezy, cool afternoon in late autumn of the same year, Gramma approached her daughter lying on a blanket in the backyard, staring at the clouds overhead. She cautiously conveyed her worry for her youngest daughter’s posterity, and encouraged her to try the labor lifestyle once again (“There’s no shame in it whatsoever!”). Sensing that her family’s motivational campaign would continue endlessly unless she made some attempt to stifle it, she replied with explanations of her world-bending philosophies on life and culture:
“Consider events throughout human history, Mother. When any impoverished mass of people are oppressed, their most reliable, if not most effective, means of waging war is passive, nonviolent resistance; violence and coercion are the means of tyrants and bigots. Whether the occasion warranted a large-scale occupation for a demonstration, the boycott of particular products or services, publicity and awareness campaigns, or a large-scale political movement, social change has only ever been achieved and perpetuated by the oppressed with means of passive, nonviolent resistance.
“Causes are historically preceded by sentiments that are emotionally, intuitively justified by the public. Wherever despots and tyrants have been overthrown, it was mankind’s self-evident rights to life and liberty that watered the seed of revolution. All throughout history, humanity has waged war with itself over premises of territory, wealth, race, ideology, and class. All of these conflicts, at any point throughout history or place on the globe, have been the manifestations of mankind’s frustration with their oppressors. Millions of people have died in hopeless battles believing, ‘If only I could help free the next generation from the malicious rule of these tyrants, they will live happily and peacefully.’ Warriors in ages past found conviction in the idea that personal and political freedoms will lead their children to happiness; they sought to make their inheritance sovereignty.