Keeping in mind these pillars of masculinity, I discovered that murses cause the trappings and the spirit masculinity to contradict one another. Preparing to lead a field trip through Arezzo and Perugia, I learned that cold front had settled on central Italy, the weathermen calling for snow tonight and tomorrow. At the train station tomorrow morning, I will meet fifty-five students, mostly twenty year-old coeds, blurry-eyed and skeptical of spending the day touring cities on foot through the cold and snow for the sake of architectural history. Besides force-marching this group through weather clogged streets, my responsibilities include managing logistics, transportation, museum passes, and hundreds of Euro in cash, divided across separate class accounts. After touring two cities, we will return to Florence just before 20:00, a full twelve hours of Syracuse's famous scholarship in action.
This field trip presented me with a dilemma. I had to accept my role as a teaching assistant, that is slitting the throat of many idle Saturdays in sacrifice to the education of the future of America, and developing, as one of the manlinest men that I ever knew used to hammer into my skull, a system. I needed to organize and manage each trip effectively on the fly. Pockets were prone to being picked and did not provide enough space for the reams of receipts, money, and handouts I would be carrying. It was also unwise to lug around a bookbag all day. Besides its weight, its extra space, as many TAs has learned, is an invitation to carry students' and professors' items.
Only one option was left: the murse, and I struggled with the idea. The word "murse" induces visions on one hand of sensitives male nurses and on the other of overly perfumed men strutting like roosters through Florence. The fact that Indiana Jones carried a murse-like satchel was of little comfort. "Murse" canoted ridiculousness, the thing itself anathema to gritty, fire-bellied manliness. I could not see myself joining the ranks of murse carrying men.
But slowly I came to realize that the spirit of manliness is more important than how manliness appears. More important than prevailing fashions or the opinions of others is finding the most simple and practical solution to a given problem.
This afternoon, I purchased a murse. I now have a system, along with the added benefit of being able to slip more easily, at least as easily as a large, Anglo-Saxon can, into the Italian social fabric. As a man, I have come to terms with my murse and feel comfortable sporting it, especially in a country that understands and appreciates many contradictions.
