“Do you think you could give that last speech now?” We’re halfway through our annual dinner with the editorial team, editorial board, foundation board, and our student and freelance contributors. Café Abrahams Look is nice and crowded, and the conversation around my table is lively. I hesitate; I’m comfortable here, and I already climbed up on a chair earlier this evening to say a few words about Anita Jansen, our departing foundation board chair (our rock – no-nonsense, witty and always on the go), as well as Paul and Brenda Nekeman, the translation duo who handled nearly all our translations for twenty years with speed, skill and flexibility. They retired on 1 July.
Creative mind
I’d also planned to address a few words to Line-Marie Eichhorst, a University College Maastricht student and one of our regular columnists these past few years, but she hadn’t arrived yet. Classic Line, we all agreed with knowing smiles – a creative mind can sometimes be a bit chaotic and lose track of time. But a quick text asking, “Are you still coming?” worked like a charm.
Over the past year, Line never once missed a deadline, and her weekly columns were warmly received. With a bright smile, she accepted my compliments and her farewell gift – In Cold Blood by Truman Capote, fitting for someone considering a career in journalism.
Sense of unease
Seeing her standing there, I suddenly recalled a day early in the academic year when her mentor, WB, wanted to discuss one of her columns with her in person. After all, it’s easier to give detailed feedback face-to-face than by email. The only available space in the office was the tiny little room where we usually put together the newspaper layout. They weren’t quite sitting on top of each other, but it was a warm day, and WB was already in his cycling shorts, ready to head home afterwards. They closed the door between my office and the room behind them.
Sitting at my desk, a sense of unease crept over me. I thought about how many lecturers now keep their office doors open when meeting students – total transparency to avoid any later complaints about awkward or inappropriate situations. I knocked on the door with a casual excuse: wouldn’t they like to open a window for a bit of fresh air? WB looked up, startled and puzzled; no, they were fine, the window was already open. Line said nothing. Later, WB was surprised by my concern. I called him naive.
At ease
At this week’s dinner, Line told us she’d understood perfectly why I poked my head in that day. Not only is she a skilled writer, but she’s also adept at reading between the lines. She assured me that she’d felt entirely at ease in that little room, as had WB.