Loyalty

Bent over, a little bit bored, I plucked leaves off of the vines. It was almost break time, and I was hot, sticky, and day dreaming of the apple I packed in my lunch. I was more than halfway through my first day in the vineyard. But before long, I was asked to help clean the kitchen in the restaurant—and by help, it was meant that I’d do it on my own.

Okay. Cool. I’m not afraid of some hot soap and water and kitchen appliances that apparently have never been cleaned before.

But at some point during that day, I started to ask a few questions.

A lot of people at home would probably say that I’m a hard worker. That I’m a dedicated, loyal, see-it-through-until-the-bitter-end kind of hard worker. And I’ve been told this enough times that I have absolutely no problem bragging about it on any job application/school application/my blog/anything at all. I know it to be true, mostly because I’ve first hand experience with the not-always-so-great consequences of being that sort of person.

But sometime, between scrubbing an oven and washing a million dishes, I started to wonder why it is that I identify with being a hard worker. And what it is that makes me that way.

I thought back to all the times when I’ve worked the hardest, when I’ve been in the most stressful situations, when I’ve put in hours and hours and hours for things like theatre, and swimming, and homework, and literary magazine editing, and camp, and volunteering. Why did I find it so easy to wake up at 5 in the morning to go jump in a freezing pool? How on earth did I make it through late-night rehearsals? Why was it only when I started at BMHCC that I suddenly understood what the whole volunteering brouhaha was all about?

Another question I’ve asked myself a lot is why was I willing to repeat the same lines, the same scenes over and over and over again for theatre, but totally unwilling to practice my violin the same way?

Sitting there, wiping clean the kitchen surfaces, I found myself wondering why I didn’t feel as dedicated to this vineyard as I have felt to other things. I hadn’t yet become that person who jumps in to help without needed to be asked. I hadn’t yet started to seek out jobs that needed to be done. Sitting there in the kitchen, I was surprised to find myself feeling a little disgruntled at the work I was doing.

And after a few days of thinking, I decided that I think it’s a matter of loyalty.

On the swim team, I was always aware of how much of a team sport swimming is, although people who’ve never been a part of the sport might not see that. I was always aware that if I slacked, it would not only hurt my personal performance, but it would hurt my team’s chances.

In theatre, you become a part of something bigger than yourself, a creative effort to contribute something good to the world. This, too, means that I found myself dedicated to a group of people, dedicated to a goal. Here, too, the final product depends on how hard I work. And it is easy to get lost in these team efforts, to give every bit of effort and energy I have, because I love creating and contributing things to the world.

At camp and in the places I’ve volunteered, that becomes about connecting to people. They, too, are places when I’m not the most important thing in the room. Everyone else is the important people, and it’s about making them smile, not me.

Eventually, after a few long days in the kitchen, that feeling of loyalty started coming into the picture at the vineyard. Me and G in the kitchen worked together to keep things moving. There was a wedding at the vineyard and the entire team worked quickly, efficiently, trying to keep things going smoothly. Once again, there’s that feeling of We’re-in-this-together-so-let’s-DO-this-thing.

Having thrown my lot in with these people, I donned my apron without a thought, and picked up the scrub brush, ready for the oncoming and looking forward to the hours of conversation, laughter, and music that came along with them.