The Door With My Real Name On It
by David Hoffman
It was one of those rare moments when the past, present and future converge in a burst of energy and meaning. I stood at the rail above the Retriever Activities Center floor two weeks ago, looking down at the hopeful/confused/bored/excited faces of the assembled members of UMBC's entering class, and the university leaders on the platform in front of them. Diane Lee, UMBC's Vice Provost and Dean of Undergraduate Education, stepped to the podium and began to speak about a poem called "The Banjo."
I knew the poem well. Twenty years earlier, I had been working, very unhappily, at a big Los Angeles law firm, spending endless days litigating over the balance sheets of companies so big that the millions of dollars at stake were drops in an ocean. I had felt completely stifled and totally insignificant. Then I had quit the firm and started searching for another path. Months later, when I walked into my law school to browse the listings in its career services center, I felt totally adrift. I wanted so badly to make a meaningful contribution with my life, and to do work through which I could enact the real me. I ran into a staff member who remembered me and listened to my story, then flashed a sympathetic smile and handed me a piece of paper, with a poem. "The Banjo," by Robert Winner. I wasn't much of a poetry reader, but of course I gave it a look.
The narrator works at a job among rigid people camouflaged in their business suits,
while somewhere in the life I forgot to live,
an old rapscallion banjo sleeps with dust.
Feeling trapped in his own life, he imagines bringing the banjo to work and strumming, strumming to disrupt that world and wake the people in it to dancing. But it is a vision he does not know how to fulfill. The poem's last two, haunting lines captured my own dilemma perfectly:
It’s hard to know which life is sleep
Or where the door is with my real name on it.
That poem became a way of accessing and staying true to myself. The image of the door with my real name on it came to define my hopes for my professional life. When Diane Lee offered up "The Banjo" as a source of inspiration to the newest members of the UMBC community, it was as if she was sending a message back in time to my younger self: Have no fear, for one day you will work with others to build your doors together, at a university where people are eager to embrace and develop their best selves, and to enact their identities and purposes through meaningful contributions to the common good.
I'd love to hear about the poems, songs and books that have made a difference for you. What words and tunes have helped to define and transform you? What are the stories that connect you to them?
Co-Create UMBC is a blog for and about UMBC, written by David Hoffman and Craig Berger from the Office of Student Life. Join the Co-Create UMBC group on MyUMBC. Like Co-Create UMBC on Facebook. And follow David and Craig on Twitter.
It was one of those rare moments when the past, present and future converge in a burst of energy and meaning. I stood at the rail above the Retriever Activities Center floor two weeks ago, looking down at the hopeful/confused/bored/excited faces of the assembled members of UMBC's entering class, and the university leaders on the platform in front of them. Diane Lee, UMBC's Vice Provost and Dean of Undergraduate Education, stepped to the podium and began to speak about a poem called "The Banjo."
I knew the poem well. Twenty years earlier, I had been working, very unhappily, at a big Los Angeles law firm, spending endless days litigating over the balance sheets of companies so big that the millions of dollars at stake were drops in an ocean. I had felt completely stifled and totally insignificant. Then I had quit the firm and started searching for another path. Months later, when I walked into my law school to browse the listings in its career services center, I felt totally adrift. I wanted so badly to make a meaningful contribution with my life, and to do work through which I could enact the real me. I ran into a staff member who remembered me and listened to my story, then flashed a sympathetic smile and handed me a piece of paper, with a poem. "The Banjo," by Robert Winner. I wasn't much of a poetry reader, but of course I gave it a look.
The narrator works at a job among rigid people camouflaged in their business suits,
while somewhere in the life I forgot to live,
an old rapscallion banjo sleeps with dust.
Feeling trapped in his own life, he imagines bringing the banjo to work and strumming, strumming to disrupt that world and wake the people in it to dancing. But it is a vision he does not know how to fulfill. The poem's last two, haunting lines captured my own dilemma perfectly:
It’s hard to know which life is sleep
Or where the door is with my real name on it.
That poem became a way of accessing and staying true to myself. The image of the door with my real name on it came to define my hopes for my professional life. When Diane Lee offered up "The Banjo" as a source of inspiration to the newest members of the UMBC community, it was as if she was sending a message back in time to my younger self: Have no fear, for one day you will work with others to build your doors together, at a university where people are eager to embrace and develop their best selves, and to enact their identities and purposes through meaningful contributions to the common good.
I'd love to hear about the poems, songs and books that have made a difference for you. What words and tunes have helped to define and transform you? What are the stories that connect you to them?
Co-Create UMBC is a blog for and about UMBC, written by David Hoffman and Craig Berger from the Office of Student Life. Join the Co-Create UMBC group on MyUMBC. Like Co-Create UMBC on Facebook. And follow David and Craig on Twitter.
Posted: September 9, 2013, 8:49 AM