Portrait by Margo Bendery
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A funny thing happened on the way to my nineties. I
discovered that life was as enjoyable as ever. Although I railed against Father Time
for leaning on my head and scrunching me down into a little old lady,
still, the perks are many:
- accepting with pleasure the
fact that my formerly plebeian knee-length terrycloth robe is now
luxuriously ankle length
- marveling over the miraculous
arrival of 3 great-grandsons (Update 2017) 5 great-grandsons and 1 great-granddaughter
- rejoicing that their parents
don’t expect me to babysit
- driving twice a week to
duplicate bridge games where partner and I seesaw between triumphant
highs and ignominious lows
- learning to
my wonderment that posts on this blog are visited by hundreds of thousands in the U. S. and
thousands in European countries.
- editing daughter Kathie’s
latest textbook on war and peace
- dropping in on her blog, http://engagingpeace.com, with its sketches
by Margo Bendery, our Vonnie’s childhood pal
My deepest
values are: Live and Let Live (my mother's philosophy), pro-choice,
anti-bigotry, pro women's and men's liberation. Other profundities:
Darwin yes, God maybe, tea parties, no.
I'm getting a
lot of this material from an album titled "Grandmother Remembers," given to me
when my first grandchild, Teddy, was born on January 4, 1979. The album
asked, what are you most proud of?
Answers: my first, second, third and fourth child, my first published article, my first solo, Kathie's winning tenure at BU, teaching psychology from her wheelchair after an automobile accident in 1965, my children's parenting skills, Vonnie's incredibly great letters,Ted's stepping up to raise Michael after Vonnie died in an automobile accident in 1976, Timmy's articles in National Fisherman and his helpful computer expertise, and staying friends with my ex-husband.
Answers: my first, second, third and fourth child, my first published article, my first solo, Kathie's winning tenure at BU, teaching psychology from her wheelchair after an automobile accident in 1965, my children's parenting skills, Vonnie's incredibly great letters,Ted's stepping up to raise Michael after Vonnie died in an automobile accident in 1976, Timmy's articles in National Fisherman and his helpful computer expertise, and staying friends with my ex-husband.
Another album
topic: "Everyone thought I shouldn't, but I'm glad I. . . married
young."
In those days you were bounced out of college if you got married (which had seemed like a neat idea to me, since I was pregnant). My mother, at first crushed, became devoted to Ed.
Ernestine dedicated one of her books, The Story of Lengthwise: "To my son-in-law, Edward W. Malley, Jr. and his wife Barbara, under whose merry roof this story was written."
In those days you were bounced out of college if you got married (which had seemed like a neat idea to me, since I was pregnant). My mother, at first crushed, became devoted to Ed.
Ernestine dedicated one of her books, The Story of Lengthwise: "To my son-in-law, Edward W. Malley, Jr. and his wife Barbara, under whose merry roof this story was written."
But who is Isha?
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When I die and pass through the pearly gates
(a
destination my born-again brother--bless
him!--
regards
as fundamentally unlikely),
I will first seek (if I have
eyes to seek with)
Sergei Rachmaninv in order to thank
him
from the bottom of my heart (wherever that
is)
and admire
(if I have ears to hear with)
whatever soul-stirring composition
he is playing on his harp.
And
oh, how many of you I would want to hug
(if I had arms to hug with)—Mother, Vaughan,
Vonnie,
Ed, my forever cherished ex-husband, Ted,
Floyd
Rinker, Maggie, Darrell McClure,
Ed Brecher, Jack, Naomi, Moppet.
. .
All I
ask is one hour with all my senses.
Surely
this is not an unreasonable request.
I
think not . . . therefore I am.
Circa
2013
As weeks race by on their
fast-forward track, I find myself giving
serious thought to that hard-to-believe event, the end of my
life. To be, then not to be, that is the answer. Or so it seems in my semi-agnostic opinion.
And yet, anything is possible, I suppose, in this strange, wonder-filled,
unknowable universe. Even immortality. I'm confident my born-again brother will forgive me for using my God-given brain to question
what will happen after said brain turns to ashes. There will either be
Something or there will be Nothing. The Something would be excitingly comprehensible.
"Oh, so that's the way it is!" I would
think, awe-stricken that I was still able to think. "Now I get
it!"
WITH BROTHER DICK |
On the other hand, I see nothing to dread if there is Nothing.
Wasn't Nothing what I had been before I was conceived?
Should I look back on Nothingness-before-life as a terrifying state to be
in? I had been unaware of my Nothingness and thus
unafraid. I would also be unaware of Nothing-ness-after-death, if that is what awaits us. What's scary about that?
Agnostics, Muslems, Jews, Buddhists, and other heretics were barred from my brother's heaven; I want no part of an ascension to an exclusive club. The fact that I was conceived is miracle enough. But if heaven does exist, how joyfully I will greet my precious mother Ernestine and my beloved second mother, Vaughan. And of course my sorely missed daughter Vonnie, forever thirty-one years old after the accident. How I long to hug her again at last. Another hug for dear Ted, whom we lost in the spring of 2017 to ALS disease. And a big hug for Ed, whom I immortalized in Take My Ex-Husband, Please--But Not Too Far.
Agnostics, Muslems, Jews, Buddhists, and other heretics were barred from my brother's heaven; I want no part of an ascension to an exclusive club. The fact that I was conceived is miracle enough. But if heaven does exist, how joyfully I will greet my precious mother Ernestine and my beloved second mother, Vaughan. And of course my sorely missed daughter Vonnie, forever thirty-one years old after the accident. How I long to hug her again at last. Another hug for dear Ted, whom we lost in the spring of 2017 to ALS disease. And a big hug for Ed, whom I immortalized in Take My Ex-Husband, Please--But Not Too Far.
"You thought you'd escaped, didn't you," I'll tease. And he'll come back with some smart remark, out-teasing me as he always could, divorce or
no divorce, heaven or no heaven. Rarely did I ever get the last word
until now.
Such an amazing post! Thank you so much for sharing and warm greetings from Montreal, Canada. on (1) A MAN CANNOT BE WHIPPED INTO SHAPE. NEITHER CAN A CHILD.safe: "1 replies."
ReplyDeleteDear Linda -- You have given this old girl (94) a heart full of joy. It has been a long time since anyone took the time to comment on my meanderings, and yours is such a lovely one! Warm greetings gratefully returned! on (1) A MAN CANNOT BE WHIPPED INTO SHAPE. NEITHER CAN A CHILD.
in response to Such an amazing post! Thank you so much for sharing and warm greetings from Montreal, Canada., by Linda.
Thank you for sharing EVERYTHING. I have such fond memories of my childhood due to you, Dear Other Mother. You made my life!
ReplyDeleteAnd you continue to add happiness to mine, sweetheart. I've thought of a way to respond to those who say "Hi, how are you?" "Hanging in there" seems appropriate if accompanied by a smile.
ReplyDelete