Gossip

I'm going to pause a moment here in the saga of Spring Quilt Break, to put in my two cents about gossip. I don't like it. It hurts people. Now I could just leave it at that, but instead, I'll tell you what happened in one of my classes over the weekend and why I am a bit upset. C. was in my Friday class, sitting two rows ahead of me in the room. C. and I have been acquainted through our quilt guild, for quite a few years now. C. reminds me of my grandmother, who used to sit at her kitchen table and watch out the window, so she could keep track of what the neighbors were doing. I think this desire to be "in the know," comes from boredom. Anyway, there we were in class. Everyone was busy sewing except C., who mostly sits around in class and complains, driving the teacher crazy trying to help her. Not that C. really wants help; she just likes the attention. I've often wondered why C. even bothers to take classes... The room was quiet, with only the hum of sewing machines making noise. C. asked me a question--from her two rows ahead of me, pertaining to my personal life. I told her it was a sad story and I'd tell her later. She kept on, making several comments to the room in general, about one of my family members. I wondered why she felt the need to share MY personal details with everyone, but I kept sewing, hoping if I ignored her, she's quiet down. One of the other ladies asked me a question about what C. was saying. Gritting my teeth, I answered with a single, "Yes." Someone else said, "uh oh..." and then no one else asked anything! Ha! Not everyone is as dense as C. C. made another comment, directed at me this time. I didn't answer. She repeated herself, adding, "Yvonne, did you hear me?" I said, "yes, C., I heard you." I went back to my sewing. C. got quiet.

During the luncheon lecture that day, Tom called me on my cell phone. I had it on vibrate, so as not to disturb anyone, but I had to leave the room to answer the phone. Turns out the power was out at home and he wanted to know if I had the phone number of the power company anywhere. Yes, dear, in the phone book! He was without power for three hours, due to a drunk slamming their car into the transformer. Poor Tom!

On my way back to the luncheon, I spotted C. sitting out in the hotel lobby. She found Zena's lecture "boring." Huh? She was almost drooling in anticipation, though, because she thought I was going to fill her in on juicy details of the "sad story" she'd asked about in class. Her eyes were shining with delight and a grin was on her face as she prompted me to "tell all." Nope. Not gonna do it! Not now, not ever. Instead, maintaining my usual calm and quiet demeanor, I told her she had been way out of line to have said what she did in class earlier. Speaking to C., I didn't raise my voice, nor did I even sound angry. Good job there, considering inside I was pretty ticked off at her! lol I quietly told her "If I had wanted everyone in there to know my business, I would have told them." Then, turning on my heel, I walked away--back to Zena's marvelous quilts and fascinating stories.

Later in class, C. passed by me twice, each time saying she was sorry she'd offended me. Each time I said, "okay, C..."

This jogged a memory in my mind, from back in 1986. Our youngest son was born too early and only lived 10 hours. After I got home from the very traumatic experience of his death, my "friend," Inez, phoned daily to see how I was doing. As you might imagine, I was an emotional wreck. My baby had died. It was devastating. Inez seemed so concerned and caring--I found myself pouring my heart out to her. Little did I know that she was telling everyone about our conversations and basking in the attention of being "in the know." For her, it was all about the gossip and having something to talk about. I suppose it made her feel important. I was lucky, though, because one of my real friends phoned and told me what Inez was doing and how she was ridiculing and belittling me in her efforts to elevate herself. What a sad person! After that, when Inez would call, I made myself scarce. Ahh, C. and Inez...they have a lot in common.