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Alex Goodman

Oct 25, 2010

Life is supposed to hand you surprises when you least expect them. A Law Firm nestled in heart of New York’s financial district, which I had reluctantly resigned my summer to, was the last place I anticipated excitement. The first time I met Dara Douglas*, it was my first week on the job as a file clerk. She came up to me and introduced herself, and then peered down at my shoes. “Oh my god aren’t you hot in those? Those are winter shoes!” she exclaimed. Admittedly, I was hot. I was unaware of the summer dress code and was glad I had been provided with some lenience. Dara had no qualms about sharing her views, and was eager in helping me shape my own. As the days went on, Dara would place the arts section of The New York Times on my desk everyday before I got there, and then was sure to remind me that she did so. On my last day on Wall St, Dara bought me a veggie wrap, and sent me off, saying: “We’ll have to light one up soon.”

The crisp October air had fortunately arrived, and so did Dara as she shuffled through the side door of the East Village Ukrainian Diner Veselka equipped with, of course the appropriate fall attire. She sat down immediately, and thumbed through only one page of the extensive menu, while simultaneously taking a look at my attire. This time, we were both practical. Dara did not skip a beat, as she ordered a cup of coffee and a veggie burger, and assured the waitress that the restaurant had fantastic food.

The redheaded 53-year-old legal secretary from Long Island had no problem reciting her views, it was almost as if she could recite them in her sleep. We touched upon gay rights, outsourcing money, and the idea of true democracy. Dara’s political reservations were few and far between, especially when it came to the Republican Party. “There is no humanity out there, because you have morons like Christine O’Donnell from the Tea Bagger party.”

Her casually aggressive political opinions were interrupted by shockingly maternal ones, as she placed French fries on my plate, and repeated, “I’m so glad to see you eating” throughout the course of the meal.

Dara, who even in the middle of her life remains a size Four, does not have a very decadent appetite herself. This choice has very much to do with the removal of meat from her diet. “Being a zoologist, eating meat is just hypocritical. Plus, there are so many steroids in meat. Seeing a ten year old, look like an eighteen year old is disturbing. Roman Polanski might have not had so much trouble if the girl actually looked thirteen.”

Agaisnt the backdrop of a downtown Law Firm, Dara was my breath of fresh air. She glided from cubicle to cubicle shedding her insights with expressive vulgarity. When the office had a bed bugs scare, she was the first to identify them, and the first to tell you how much Clorox bleach to use around the perimeter of your apartment, and never failed to comment on which snack I decided to get at the vending machine. She was partial to pretzels. Though her zoology background was underworked at the Law Firm, she assured me that she lived out her passions through her love of extreme sports, and her rescue Beagle Lab Mix, Charlie.

One of Dara’s major concerns was with the rapidly changing environment. “The environment is my id, you know, my identity. I can’t ski if there is no snow.” Upon articulating Gas and Oil distributor BP’s, desire to drill in the arctic Dara places a pile of unwanted tomatoes on my plate. “I hate having things on my plate that I don’t like” engulfing her veggie burger, she states: “BP had 750 claims against them for bad pipes. BP is not so green.”

Dara responds to all of my political and environmental questions quickly, and with great ferocity. Tapping the pages of my journal, she suggests that I get a tape recorder: “If you think I’m chatty now just wait until I’m stoned.”

Upon first glance, one might not anticipate Dara’s disdain for meat, or advocacy of Marijuana. But she assures me that, “My most important subject is marijuana—I want that shit legalized.” However, Dara’s expressive nature is not exclusively for shock value. Dara cultivated her own political views by the time she was 18, inhaled her first breath of marijuana at age 12, and was immensely involved in the no-nuke movement prior to her enrollment at Cornell. To some Dara may reflect a living breathing contradiction, a legal secretary by day, and a hippy by night. But to others, she is a wiry framed rebel breaking the standards of the corporate sphere. “Ask me anything,” she says while aggressively signaling for the check “I promise I’ll be honest.”

*Dara is not her real name