Twas Brillig

(PLEASE tell me the song from of the same title by Missing Persons from the early 80’s punk era is going through your mind now. Please! If I could find a sound or video clip, I’d TOTALLY have it playing right now.)

I guess my question was, when does it become my business?

So, you remember our little crisis last night? Well, everything’s fine. Okay, “fine” is relative. She’s fine, in that she is not injured, dead, or missing.

But, besides that, she’s so. not. fine. I wish I could tell you more, but I really can’t—I don’t know more, because apparently, it ain’t none of my business.

I guess I was just wondering, at what point does it become my business? I would think that around the time there’s someone sitting on my doorstep, freaking out, and begging for my help, it becomes my business. Or, when I begin pounding down doors, jumping over fences and, finally, coordinating the search party, perhaps then it becomes my business.

Aahhhh, no.

After we passed off the mystery onto other people—her family, friends, church leaders—we slipped away quietly, allowing them to do what they needed to do. Time went by, and Hubby and I waited, wondering if they’d call us, if we should call them, or what? But we were just dying to know if there was an ending to the story. We hesitated, because was it really any of our business? WHY did we want to know the ending—because we were curious? Concerned? Anyway, Hubby made the call, and was informed that she had been found. At home. In the dark. On the phone. Going through some kind of crisis, the details of which we “didn’t even want to know.” Which is just a polite way of saying “you don’t NEED to know.”

True. We didn’t, technically. But hadn’t we earned the right to know what really happened? We hadn’t asked to be involved—involvement was thrust upon us. And it only seemed fair to have the whole story given to us.

But as the hours have passed since all of this, I’ve analyzed myself a bit, and realized that my reasons for wanting to know are really because I’m curious, gossipy, and I love a good soap opera. All I needed to know is that she’s not hurt, and she’s not missing.

And the people that I resented this morning are now the very people that I would turn to and trust, should my own “time of crisis” arise. How wonderful that her story wasn’t gossiped all over the neighborhood! How wonderful that she can recover from whatever this thing is that’s plaguing her, and she can move on with her life without wondering what I think of her!

And so, it’s just done. And I won’t press it now, and I have the utmost respect for those who want to protect her privacy. Because, really, it ain’t none of my business!