On my return from Italy last week, the flight from Rome was full, with physician, scientists, and vendors headed to Chicago for a very large annual radiology conference. This lead to plenty of polite chatter before and after the mid-flight naps. Coming back into the US requires going through both immigration and customs. A two step process with less than welcoming lines, and a fair bit of confusion for the uninitiated traveler. It really makes the US look a bit unfriendly, compared to entering the EU.
I got put in a line that was not moving. Literally. I could see ahead a couple of people that the white haired immigration official was talking intently at a somewhat cowering middle aged man. From a distance he seemed to be scolding the man, took his photo, took his palm prints, and kept talking at the man. Naturally those of in this line going nowhere watched with irritation as everyone around us whizzed pass their immigration official.
Finally I got close. I could hear the lady ahead of me say that that she had been Italy as a cupcake consultant. Really, that's what I heard. My turn.
The white haired man asked where have you been?
Italy
For how long?
Two weeks.
Business of pleasure?
A little business and a lot of pleasure.
(he smiled, vaguely)
What to do you do?
I'm a professor.
What do you profess?
I burst out laughing. He grinned widely, with that "got ya" look. Then he said that teachers always explain what they teach, but professors always laugh. I asked what was the best answer he had heard. He replied "as little as possible." I nodded. He handed me my passport and I moved on.
But, the question dangles. What do I profess? It's one of those questions against which to measure a life and a life's work. Like the "in this I believe" essays. So rarely do we pause and take stock of where we are and where we are headed.
Some time ago, I decided, after a considerable amount of trying on ideas, that I believe in curiosity. I like that I now have a new question to ponder, to nudge my self-awareness.
