Immanence

By Sherryl Brown

Immanence lets the reader experience David Bankss demise and redemption against the background of his mother and sisters. Because his fractured life is grounded in art, his chosen profession, he is able to transcend his prejudices. His singular existence began long before his conception and birth. It comes from a life force that is universal; it has no personal identity, and it is pure. Art drives the story and illuminates the dynamic interplay between each character who has a part to play in the unfolding story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781546207252

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The singular existence that was to become David Banks began long before his conception and birth. It was a life force that has no personal identity and it is pure. It is neither innate nor acquired but a potentiality subsisting in an energy field that touches on the transcendental. The great modern philosophers Gilles Deluze, David Hume and Friedrich Nietzsche struggled with this concept, bringing new insights into the human condition with their writings

Because immanence is a philosophical term, it represents lives continually in the making; as Nietzsche wrote in his book, Will to Power, the more closely we adhere to a singular existence without dominance or judgment, the more fulfilling our lives can be. He has often been misunderstood in this construct. In Nietzsche’s view, the will to power consists not in coveting or even in taking but in creating and giving.

All three philosophers came to understand the vital importance of art, which encompasses all forms of creativity including music, dance, painting, cinematography, architecture and drama. We need a metaphor to extract the truth of our existence, and art fulfills this function by revealing the plane of immanence which denies both subject and object in the quest for a transcendent existence devoid of psychic pain and guilt. We human beings need help in living to our full potential, and so I have chosen this concept for the title of this novel. It is my hope that the reader will come into a new understanding of how art is intrinsically bound up with the fundamental questions of our time.

CHAPTER 1

October 3, 2011

In the conference room at the Dallas Museum of Art twenty-two of the most respected philanthropists, city officials, artists and scholars in North Texas are attending a three-day seminar, discussing ideas for fundamentally changing the direction of the city. The resulting plan will be presented to the Dallas Citizens Council, the mayor and city staff as well as county officials. This seminar is committed to the transformation of Dallas to save it. These civic innovators have a stake in change. They collectively believe that Dallas should become the arts capital of the United States, and in so doing, they will reverse the inevitable decline brought about by the neglect of an increasingly volatile underclass. Inspiration will come from Paris, France, the arts capital of Europe, Detroit and New Orleans. These cities reflect of the power of art to elevate the human condition and to contribute to wide-sweeping changes that can bring about rebirth. Speakers from Dallas, New Orleans and Detroit will each give testimony to the ability of an American city to transform itself.

David Banks, Dallas art dealer and gallery owner, is a leader in this movement. He believes Dallas must find a way to overcome its chronically poor-performing public schools, its high crime rate and increasing poverty rates. He is scheduled to speak on the third day of the meeting. He knows most of the people in the room, and because of his successes, as well as his failures, he enjoys a high degree of respect, even with the faculty and administrators from universities like SMU, TCU and UT Dallas. He is a scholar and a serious student of the history of Dallas who believes that the city still suffers the aftereffects of the second most horrific event in 20th Century America, next to Pearl Harbor in 1941, the Kennedy assassination. Besides the sitcom Dallas, David’s city will always be known for the right- wing extremism that led to John Kennedy’s death. He and his colleagues are hoping to change this perception by re-making Dallas into a new model for civic inclusiveness.

David, the oldest of three siblings born to Avis and Frank Banks, enjoys his status as titular head of the Banks family. His father has been dead for six years and his mother, Avis, lives in a retirement facility, Preston Manor, in downtown Dallas. The Banks family was prominent in Mineral Wells, Texas for forty years, and that may explain why David has such fire in his belly. He was raised to believe that he had a special destiny. His mother, Avis, clearly favored him growing up over his two sisters, Julia and Elaine. This conference will be the means whereby David can leave his mark on the world. Even though he served a two-and-a half year federal prison sentence in Bastrop, Texas, he is no common criminal. On the contrary, he is a well-respected art dealer, art appraiser and consultant. He just made a few errors of judgment and paid a heavy price.

His achievement in the business of selling art is quite remarkable. Starting out in graphic arts after college, he succeeded beyond his wildest dreams at Trinity Graphics, a Dallas firm that gave him his first big commission. He stayed with the firm while he continued to build his reputation as an expert in American contemporary representational art. Early in his career he moved from creating art to buying and selling art.

He knows many artists who eschew wealth, but David strives for singular status and the financial success associated with the great auction houses of America like Sotheby’s and Christie’s. He is charming and liked by both men and women for his engaging personality and good looks, yet at 63, he can see that his time is short to achieve all his personal goals. It concerns him that he is now single after his second failed marriage, but he tells himself that he is better off unencumbered. He no longer must watch the clock or meet expectations, something he was never good at. He expresses his gratitude that he does not have children when he kneels to pray at church. His one big responsibility is to take care of his aging mother with the help of his two sisters, Elaine and Julia.

His college sweetheart from their undergraduate days at University of Texas in Austin, Colleen Richardson, is also attending the Dallas conference. She will be the keynote speaker on Paris, France. An associate professor at SMU and frequent public speaker, she teaches art history and French. This Monday morning, David and Colleen are seeing each other for the first time in twelve years. It is a bit awkward for Colleen, because when they were at the University of Texas in Austin, she thought she had found the man she would spend the rest of her life with. She was deeply in love with David, the kind of love that hurts to the core when it suddenly ends, which it did in her junior year. She never quite got over the breakup. The previous evening as she was looking at the program she saw David Banks’ name on the program as speaker. It came as a shock.

Now, this Monday morning they somewhat awkwardly run into each other as Colleen exits the women’s restroom. She immediately recognizes David, but he doesn’t recognize her as quickly.

David! Hi, it’s Colleen. She takes a step forward so he can see her and looks him square in the face. A light turns on in his head.

Colleen! After a momentary hesitation, he reaches out to give her a hug.

I saw your name a few weeks ago on the program. How are you?

I’m doing very well, thanks. You are looking well. How’s the art business coming along?

It’s a rough business, but I love it. No two days are the same, and I get to learn a lot about art along the way. You’ll have to stop by my gallery sometime.

I certainly will. Colleen hesitates and then says, We’d better move on in there, or we’ll be late. I hope we will have some time to get together and catch up.

Me too. Can we go to lunch today?

Sure. I would like that.

At 9 am they are sitting at one of the meeting room tables chatting with other attendees anxious to get started with the first session. This morning Colleen has been asked to give the group an historical perspective on Paris and great art. She will also be speaking tomorrow about how Paris transformed itself in the 1850’s from an overcrowded, rather dismal city into one of the most beloved cities in the world. David is looking forward to hearing her presentation, to learn how far she has come since their university days together.

The twenty-two attendees seem happy to be included in this forward-thinking group. They will discuss concepts like the Creative Class, Smart Growth, and how art innovation in the business community can impact depressed areas. The first session is just getting started. The moderator, Dr. Geoffrey Howell, Dean of Fine Arts at SMU walks up to the lectern and begins.

Greetings everyone! I am thrilled to be part of this gathering of professionals, and I am very excited at the prospect of working with you these next three days with our focus on the arts. The visioning committee authorized by the county and city has been so bold as to state that we want to re-make Dallas into a city that brings the visual and performing arts into a greater place of prominence than it already enjoys. We can apply terms like arts capital or magnet for the arts or entrepreneurial arts ecology to our discussions, but it is my hope that we can agree that if Dallas should succeed in becoming the arts capital of the United States" many of our other nagging problems will be solved in the process.

More than anything, as moderator, I want to help us focus on the practical aspects of how we can achieve such an ambitious goal. It is so easy to talk endlessly about our problems. Everyone in this room knows very well how economic blight afflicts South Dallas. You are well-aware of educational inequality throughout the city, the escalation in crime in the last few decades, and other issues. If we keep our recommendations to the city and county within a positive and achievable framework, we can be successful. Let us resist telling others what they are doing wrong, and where they have failed in the past. Let’s take a new approach to change and simply find solutions based on solid socio/economic research. There will be homework. You will recall the reading list that was sent to you a month ago. I especially want to emphasize that you study Benjamin Barber’s seminal book, If Mayors Ruled the World. Everyone here should be familiar with the history of Dallas. I’ve listed several excellent histories, among them, Dallas, the Making of a Modern City". Please study your notes from those readings. It will give you the perspective you need to be a constructive voice for the transformation we envision.

"Each of us has strong opinions on the social, economic and educational issues we will be discussing. Let us re-examine these beliefs considering the realities we face here in Dallas. Let’s put our focus on solutions. Let’s not pit the business community against the arts. Let’s think fusion, co-operation and visioning.

"I am optimistic that the recommendations to the City of Dallas that we make will have considerable traction, because our mayor and the City Council have expressed their willingness to take a broad approach to the changes we will recommend. We have buy-in from so many entities, powerful entities that can and will make things happen. We are focused on Dallas, but we have to take into consideration the political realities of the region. Trust me. This is a momentous time for re-building Dallas, and I am not just talking about bricks and mortar. I am talking about the dynamics of human beings capable of achieving great things given the right cultural environment.

Every session for the next three days will be digitally recorded and transcribed, so I encourage you to speak out. Drop your inhibitions and make a thoughtful contribution to the template that will surely emerge from our deliberations. For the next half hour, I welcome any comments you wish to make regarding our stated purpose.

David immediately raises his hand.

Dr. Howell, if I may make a few comments regarding our purpose here. I will remind everyone present that this town still has a reputation worldwide for extremism, and we have become so individualized in our quest for financial gain, we no longer even use the term community. And further, how can we re-build this city when the social fragmentation is so massive? I don’t want to be sounding like a naysayer, but we have got to figure out how to move the discussion from money and financing to social change. Anytime a public entity wants to do something, the discussion always turns to money. Let’s not fall into the money trap. Let’s try to solve the underlying problems and assume the money is always there for just causes. This is how the business of selling art works. It is first and foremost a people business.

A few of the other attendees nod their heads in agreement, but David senses he has opened a can of worms as evidenced by the seat squirming and sudden coughing spasms erupting in the room. He wants to tell all the dreamers that he loves Dallas, his adopted city, as much as they do. But he has seen too much to believe that economic disparity can be overcome with a roomful of powerful community leaders with widely divergent political philosophies. He has seen the ugly underbelly of high unemployment and urban decay in South and Central Dallas. He represents artists who live there in near poverty.

Dallas, a city of extremes thinks of itself as a city of unlimited opportunity, not unlike the great city of Chicago. It is a voice from one of the major donors to the Meadows School of Art, Robert Evans. He holds up his note pad, as though the words he is about to speak are engraved there in stone and says, If our goal is to become the arts capital of the United States, we should work to bring the private and public sectors closer together to create a ‘live large, think big’ mentality that will overcome the divisions that have existed since the founding of this city. I believe we can do it.

Colleen Richardson raises her hand but doesn’t wait for a nod from Dean Howell and begins speaking. I agree with your perspective, Robert. This is how Paris France became the great city it is today. People come to Paris from all over the world for art, culinary delights, architecture and countless other cultural attractions. It’s not enough to sit and ponder the magic they experience just by being there. We need an historical perspective and analytical approach.

Before anyone can react, Colleen goes on to say, The premise of our discussion is utopianism, and Dallas long ago missed the opportunity to establish an egalitarian society based on utopian ideals. Dallas failed in that effort and subsequently, the door was left open for laisse faire capitalism. Did you know that there was once a French Utopian Colony in Dallas, not far from where the Dallas Market is? It tried to establish a network where artists and musicians and businesses could co-exist in harmony, but it only lasted a decade. Why? Fear of socialism and geographic divisions that exist to this day. The only way we can transform Dallas is to solve the problems of an under educated work force and poverty. I’m sure we can create a new model through collaboration and inclusiveness.

Colleen looks over at David Banks and leans back in her chair; they give each other knowing looks. Just like old times; their minds in total sync.

By the time David and Colleen graduated in 1996, their relationship had ended, due in large part to David’s inability to have a monogamous relationship at that time. They both tried to remain friends and to build an easy companionship devoid of expectations, but as soon as they graduated they parted ways.

Colleen, became an expert on the history of Paris, France, living in the Montmartre district of Paris off and on for ten years. Not only did she study the history of art, but she got sidetracked researching Napoleon III and Georges Haussmann, Napoleon’s civic architect who envisioned a modern Paris in the 1840’s. They wanted to completely transform Paris from the bottom up, and so they set about demolishing nearly 70% of the inner city. Today Colleen asks herself if these pragmatic, ultra conservative Dallas city planners have any idea of what they are attempting to accomplish? Do they even know of other cities that have succeeded?

With your permission, Dean Howell, I would like to speak briefly about my presentation tomorrow and tie in some of the key concepts with what David Banks just said. Colleen says.

Looking to her left, then to her right, she sees a few eyes glazing over, but she persists.

I think telling the story of how Paris, France became a great international city will allow this group to conceptualize how we can take a distressed city like Dallas, and with buy in from all sides, really re-build it from the bottom up. It’s never been done in America, except for Chicago, after the Great Fire in 1871, and of course in recent times, Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans. But we could use examples of other world cities too. We have a lot more going for us than Paris, France did in the 1840’s, so we wouldn’t have to raze the existing infrastructure and start over like Napoléon did.

Tomorrow I will be speaking in detail about Paris, however, let me just give you a quick synopsis of Paris as it appeared to the visitor in 1848.

Paris wasn’t always the magnificent city we know today. In 1842 when Napoleon III, the nephew of Napoleon Bonaparte, wrote from his prison in the fortress of Ham that he wanted to rebuild Paris in the same manner that Augustus rebuilt Rome, Paris was a teeming cesspool of dense make-shift housing sliced randomly by narrow cart paths barely wide enough for a Volkswagen Beetle. There were no comprehensive street maps of Paris, and transportation was only enjoyed by the upper classes along the few streets within the walls of the city. Tenement houses were piled on top of tenement houses as the population grew beyond the city’s capacity to contain its inhabitants within the fortified walls, the remnants of its feudal past. Colleen pauses again to see if she is capturing her audience’s interest. They all appear to be looking at her with some degree of interest. She presses on.

"In 1850 there were only a handful of parks. For example, Luxembourg Jardine and the Jardine des Plantes, and as I said, there were few boulevards or open spaces. Sections of the city enjoyed more prosperity than others, but these upper-class enclaves were a very small percentage of the total square mileage. Napoleon III proposed a complete redesign. He also knew that to build a modern city, the priority must be to build an underground sewer system capable of containing the human waste of more than two million people. The Ile de la Cite provided slum housing for approximately fourteen thousand people alone, and sewage ran along the ditches that flowed into the Seine creating health hazards of staggering proportions.

"Baron Haussmann, Napoleon’s architect of the Paris reconstruction project, knew firsthand of the difficulties of simply walking from one district to another, because as a law student in the 1830’s he had to navigate the narrow, and at times, impassable streets to reach the School of Law from his home in the Latin Quarter. In those days Parisians didn’t move about from district to district. They stayed within the close confines of their neighborhoods and rarely had any contact with residents in other parts of the sprawling city. It was by all accounts a smelly city, an environment that no American would tolerate, the droppings of 37,000 horses, open sewers, garbage rotting in the alleyways and streets and excrement flowing into the canals and rivers that crisscrossed Paris.

When I do my presentation tomorrow, I’ll explain to you how Napoleon III managed to extricate himself from confined exile and return to Paris with the authority and financial means to rebuild Paris literally from the bottom up. As you can see, this is just a thumbnail sketch of a brief period in the long history of Paris, France. I assume you have a basic understanding of European history, so I won’t drone on. Thank you.

Dean Howell holds up his hand and announces that the participants will be viewing a documentary film on how American cities have failed in the 20th Century to bring jobs to the inner city and to build a high quality of life. He dims the lights and hits the icon on his computer that begins the hour-long film. It is a nasty expose of everything that has gone wrong, even when large amounts of capital and planning have been implemented.

When the film concludes, David catches Colleen’s eye and points to his watch.

Let’s take a longer lunch today, Geoffrey Howell, the moderator announces. We’ll get back together at 1:45 this afternoon. Enjoy.

CHAPTER 2

Just south of downtown Dallas, Avis Banks, David’s mother, looks out her bay window on the third floor of her retirement complex. She is unaware of the discussions going on at the Dallas Museum of Art. She doesn’t know that David is involved in this two-month project with civic leaders, appointed by the mayor to come up with a visioning template for Dallas’ future greatness. Perhaps because of her age, 84, she prefers to occupy her mind with less vexing matters. After all, she doesn’t read the Dallas Morning News or pay attention to local politics anymore. Her time has passed, and yet, she feels unsettled, even in the security of her comfortably appointed apartment, with a view out to the busy street just off the well-manicured grounds. She wishes she could fly away to Mexico, or perhaps to a coastal town in Oregon where small bungalows dot the ocean front, and the fresh air invigorates people along the strand.

Had Avis Banks listened in on this discussion at the Dallas Museum of Art, she might have perked up. Perhaps her immense pride in her son would have bolstered her flagging spirits. How did she get into this situation, she wonders?

In 2009 Avis finally succumbed to David and his two siblings’ protestations. She sold her home in Mineral Wells and moved to Dallas so that she could live closer to her two grown children, David and her daughter Julia. Now she asks herself why she feels so restless and unhappy. Her every need is met, at least her physical needs, but she is overwhelmed with loneliness living in such a closed community among so many old people. The problem, as she sees it, is not the age of the residents; it is their behavior. It’s as though they are on a stage rehearsing day in and day out the final scene. That’s not exactly true, because Avis can see that there are many lovely people with whom she interacts daily; parents, grandparents and great grandparents whose lives are defined by these important ties. She admits to herself that most of her fellow residents manage to keep a cheery demeanor. Avis tries to be upbeat and happy with the changes imposed on her by David and Julia. And then there is Elaine, her middle daughter who now lives in Ft. Bragg, California. Of course, the three offspring only want the best for her, and now they are making the decisions as though she suddenly is unable to manage her life.

It is being institutionalized that bothers her most of all, and she is powerless to do anything about it; so, she writes. In the absence of anyone she can candidly talk to about what has happened to her, she pens page after page in the library, a rambling account of her experiences and insights. She doesn’t tell her family she is writing, yet the staff knows and keeps her secret out of respect for her privacy. An excerpt from her writings in 2010:

Today I went outside, determined that I would leave the grounds on my own. I wanted to walk and see the surrounding neighborhood here in the center of Dallas; so, I took my cane and left the walker. That way I wouldn’t attract too much attention. I turned right when I walked out the gate, noticing the cracked and buckled sidewalk from years of neglect. I stepped carefully keeping my eyes on the sidewalk to avoid a fall, but I missed the very thing I had intended to accomplish. I just wanted to look at the houses and see a few people. As I stepped along the irregular slabs of concrete I realized that I had never walked alone in any neighborhood my entire adult life. I had been totally dependent on the car. However, growing up in Long Beach, California my sister and I walked everywhere, or skated on wide and level sidewalks. How can these homeowners tolerate these broken sidewalks? And the streets are not much better. Periodically I would stop and lean on a stop sign post and just take time to look at a house or someone’s garden.

Suddenly I was filled with longing for a home of my own again. Oh, the security of those closed doors with locks and awnings to block the setting sun! How tidy and compact they all seemed as I made my way down the street. Do the occupants realize how fortunate they are to have a home? Did I realize how blessed I was in Mineral Wells with my five- bedroom home? I am afraid I took it all for granted, never thinking that it would be taken away from me. It never crossed my mind!!

As I walked along, not one single person bothered me or made me feel self-conscious, although I had to battle within my own mind not to worry about who was looking at me from inside their houses or their cars. I told myself that I have a right to be here, and I won’t be afraid. It was a bit of an adventure and being alone outside, like a cat escaping the confinement of a house, I was rather transformed. Why hadn’t I done this before? Why had I always driven my car to the beauty parlor? Why didn’t I ever walk the distance? I continued walking two blocks north, then turned right down a narrower street lined with trees which formed a canopy over my head. The sidewalks were in better condition. I reached the end of the block and turned again back towards the retirement home. Looking at my watch, I realized it was almost time for lunch, so I doubled back and entered the gate right at 11:45, proud of my accomplishment. I resolved to try to get outside this compound more often. I won’t wait for someone to come get me. I’ll drive my car, or maybe I’ll call a taxi next time and explore another neighborhood. David doesn’t know I have an extra set of keys to my car hidden away.

Avis hears the residents talk among themselves in the dining hall, and a regular topic of discussion is loss…. loss of power, loss of car, loss of bank accounts, loss of control over how they spend holidays and birthdays, not having any say whatsoever in how children and grandchildren raise the next generation.

Oddly, the last thing on the minds of the twelve civic leaders in the large conference room at the Dallas Museum of Art this October morning is the plight of thousands of older people living in Dallas; people isolated from their families, women and men who never adjusted to widowhood, forced by their circumstances to live alone, feeling as though they have no choice but to exist closed in dimly lit apartments or neglected homes. Little thought is given to the men whose wives preceded them in death, leaving them in a state of dismay and helplessness, unable to accomplish the simplest of tasks, burdening their grown children with worries of what they will eat or how they will manage to keep a tidy house. No, the focus in the discussions going on this first day on the second-floor conference room is clearly the next generation, the technologically savvy youth who have the potential to revolutionize how we interact and work. They are the hope of the future, and technology will drive the inevitable changes.

At 11:00 Colleen sends David a text message, Are you still free for lunch? He answers her with, Like old times. I’m yours.

A half hour later Colleen and David walk out onto the sidewalk filled with pedestrian traffic and hook arms as they stride off in the direction of a small bistro not far from the Metro Station.

You are the perfect person to get the process started, he shouts to Colleen over the screeching of the wheels of the Metro rail line. They turn the corner and walk briskly away from the museum district.

How’s your mom doing, David?

She’s just fine. She still has her car, but we’ve taken the keys away. She loves going on all the excursions they plan for the residents. Something is going on all the time. I can’t keep up with it.

Do you visit her often?

I get over there about three or four times a month. Yes, I know it isn’t enough, but it is all I can manage now with my heavy workload.

I know it must be hard, but I’ll bet one phone call from you would be worth ten outings with the activities director there at the retirement center. What did you say the name of the complex is?

It’s not a nursing home, Colleen. Really, it is more like an upscale condo building, only they serve meals, and there are services provided for the residents. It used to be the Huckabee School for Girls, a private secondary school of considerable distinction. Have you heard of it?

I’ve heard of the Huckabee School, but I didn’t know that it was converted to a retirement home! My aunt, Martha went there for high school and loved it.

They round another corner and duck into Valentino’s Bistro. People are standing at the entrance waiting to be called by the hostess. They look around the room to see if they know anyone. Force of habit. Colleen points to a table for four near a small nook overflowing with plants and sky-blue glass blocks along the outside window. The hostess nods in agreement, and they follow her to the table. Regular customers get these kinds of perks. It’s what makes urban living fun and exciting. You never know when you will be treated like a queen or a loser. Usually, it is somewhere in between.

David is quite taken by Colleen’s stature and good looks, and he is clearly pleased to have this opportunity to catch up with her life. He has always seen her as a fellow voyager through the academic maze of graduate school and the employment challenges that inevitably follow. Here it is 2011, and they both have settled in Dallas, which is rather strange, because it wasn’t their intention to stay in Texas. Most of their graduating class at the University of Texas felt it was a necessary rite of passage to leave the state. But David and Colleen don’t want to waste precious time talking about their past struggles to find a professional position. This is a rare opportunity to discuss more interesting matters.

Somewhat hesitatingly Colleen ventures an opener as they unfold their napkins, How is Rachel? Or perhaps I should put it this way, what is Rachel doing with her new life? (Rachael is David’s ex-wife who left him two years earlier.)

She is still determined to have children, so it won’t be long before she has someone lined up.

Didn’t you want children? I can’t remember that we ever talked about it at UT.

Not really, I’m afraid I am too focused on my work to imagine myself in the role of father, although I like children a lot. You know how slow I was to even date in graduate school, fearing any involvement would preclude my success in school.

Tell me about it, Colleen lamented. I tried over and over to convince you that you could marry me and still be successful at school, even after we broke up.

David laughs. You did not! I don’t remember any mention of marriage.

No, I don’t suppose you do, David. You were too compartmentalized with travel, school, your father’s business, sculpting, dating other girls and playing tennis. I can’t blame you really…I wasn’t exactly overt, more like I was conflicted.

I hate to admit it, but you are right.

Interrupted by the sudden appearance of two waiters bearing all manner of olive oil, glasses of water and bread, David and Colleen pick up their menus and order their old standbys, left over from their days in Austin, Italian sausage over penne pasta with marinara sauce for David and eggplant parmesan for Colleen… Italian salad before the meal, of course.

Would you like a glass of our house wine? We have a great French pinot noir this week.

Do we dare? Colleen looks over at David with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

I think it is going to be a long afternoon, so I suggest two glasses of wine each. Ha!

The waiter smiles, then shall I bring you a bottle? He looks over at David. Colleen demurs.

No, just one glass each for starters. Thanks.

Gee, how did we get off on marriage and unborn children? Colleen says. Looking at him in her straightforward professorial manner she says after a short uncomfortable moment, I just want to know if you are happy, and if not, what you are going to do about it.

What about you, Collie Faye? …. a nick name he had conjured up for Colleen when they were in undergraduate school. Now that I’ve bared my soul to you, what is your happiness index?"

Well, it’s quite good, I must say, because I am loving my position at SMU. It’s about freedom, isn’t it? My life is pretty dynamic. She pauses.

When I was a child, I never dreamed I would be able to work with such wonderful people and to travel like I get to do. I live in gratitude, really.

That’s quite remarkable. When I was with Rachel, I was restless. I hate to admit it, but part of me also hates going home alone at night to an empty house. I am my own worst enemy. But, yes, I am happy. David says.

David, I am not alone. Just because I am not sleeping with someone, that doesn’t mean I am alone. I took a lesson from my mother who loved her six children. But she wasn’t very good at the nurturing part, or seeing to our needs. If I had children, I know I would love them with all my heart, but I still would be a lousy mother. I relish my solitude. I always felt that my mother was victimized by the childbearing mandate. She played the role reluctantly, preferring, if the truth were told, a life like mine, or yours, for that matter. She loved art and literature.

David leans back in his chair and smiles. You’re implying that your mother wanted a nanny or perhaps a house husband. It is hard for me to envision my mother with a stay at home husband who would take care of the kids and shop, clean, and prepare meals?

I could. It just wasn’t done in those days, but I’ll bet Avis would have liked even more help with the household than she had, just like my mother.

So, would you want the man in your life to stay at home and cook?

It depends on the man. If he was happy cooking, shopping and cleaning, then yes, of course.

Now you’re talking about a gay man. I don’t know any straight man who would want to stay at home while his wife goes out and works.

Gee, we must really run in different circles. I know of three couples that have such an arrangement, and it works fine. The stay at home husbands are not gay. One works out of their home, that’s Sandy and Phil. The other one is a writer for a national trade magazine, and my friend, Rodger is taking a break from the stresses of corporate America. Two years ago, he and his wife, Gwynne decided to switch roles, and it is working out just fine. She comes home every night to a prepared dinner and a happy house.

Wow, I need to get out more, David counters.

The background noise seems to quiet down and, David senses the couple at the next table listening in on their conversation. He glances at them, then back at Colleen, back at them, back at Colleen. She smiles.

No really, are you threatened? Colleen asks.

What? For a man to stay at home? No, if that’s what he wants, but I just don’t think I could ever do it, and I don’t know anyone who does.

Roles are changing, David. I’m like you. That’s all I’m saying. I can’t play the stereotypical role that most women fall into. It just isn’t me, and it wouldn’t be fair to marry a man who expected me to fall into that role.

What’s so bad about it?

I can’t believe you are asking me that. Ask Rachel. Maybe she will tell you she loved staying at home when you were married.

David looks away, conceding Colleen’s point just as the waiter places their glasses of wine on the table.

I’ll give that some thought, Colleen…. Now, onto something more pleasant.

David and Colleen leave the bistro with ten minutes to spare. The traffic has eased a bit, so they cross over into the Museum District where the sidewalks are wider. They peek through the cast iron fence at the Nasher Sculpture Center. David remembers the afternoon at the Nasher when he and his ex-wife Rachel sat in the outdoor gardens and had that painful discussion about the direction their relationship was going. Dropping some of the accusatory language they had been using at home, they laid bare the uncomfortable realities of their failing marriage.

Rachel began by gazing at one of the abstract sculptures and exclaiming, I always thought I could make my marriage work by trying hard and doing everything I could to make the man I chose to marry happy, but it backfired. I’ll admit, you are unhappy.

I am unhappy because you are unhappy, David countered.

Gee, what comes first the chicken or the egg? I thought we each would bring a certain level of happiness into the marriage and go from there, but perhaps I was delusional. The fact of the matter is you don’t really enjoy my company. We don’t have similar interests, and I’ve come to realize that the only time I get my needs met is when I am with my girl-friends and sisters. Why is that?

Well, your needs aren’t exactly my needs, are they? David said.

Rachel looked over at David, and said, No, they are not. That is why I think we need to part ways, David. Maybe I’m not meant to be married and master of the household. It is a little late to realize that, but in fairness to you I think this discussion is long overdue.

We’ve changed, Rachel. I can’t do anything about that, but you are right. I didn’t marry you so that I would have a wife who keeps my house clean and orderly, believe me. If we separate, my house will continue to be clean and orderly.

I know. We’ll probably both hire a housekeeper.

David smiled. Then I guess you’ve made up your mind.

Yes, I have. I talked to a divorce lawyer last week just to see what my options would be.

That’s no surprise. All this time I’ve been hanging on for your sake and the sake of our marriage, and you have wanted out anyway.

Let’s stop this one-up-man-ship and agree that we need to move on, Rachael said. A fitting setting for finally recognizing that the marriage was over, thought David.

Now, two years later, David stares at the bench through the wrought iron fence, and remembers how non-pulsed he was, even relieved that at last they had come out to each other. It was rather cathartic.

David, we’ve got five minutes to get back to the museum. Are you all right? Colleen asks.

Yeah, it is just that I have lots of special memories of this place. I wish we had time to go in and see the new exhibits, but you’re right. We need to get back.

At 1:30 the afternoon session begins. Everyone is seated; a low buzz of conversation in the room greets Dr. Howell as he steps up to the podium. Gradually the room goes quiet.

In preparation for this conference, I asked all of you to read, ‘Dallas, the Making of a Modern City’. I believe we all need to understand how really painful Dallas’ development into a vibrant city was. Dr. Miller is just the man to help make sense of that study that left me wondering how anything ever got done with all the backbiting and contentiousness. Many of you will remember that he wrote his very popular coffee table book on the architectural treasures of Dallas followed by a history written in 1975, ‘Dallas at the Crossroads’. Those of us who grew up here know him and his distinguished family’s contribution to the body of knowledge about our city. He now teaches at Dallas Community College and was recently recognized as Professor of the Decade by the Texas Coordinating Board. Help me welcome Dr. Geary Miller.

Spirited applause.

"Thank you,