Wednesday, October 14, 2015


  LOSS


                      In 1957, I lost my Dad a shocking, painful blow, I was terribly sad; I really missed him!  Mother followed Dad too quickly.  It is not supposed to happen that devastating way.  I had not time to mourn, to empathize with Mother’s torn heart.  And it was deeply torn.  “He needs me”, she wept, “You kids are doing just fine!”  She understood our comfortable marriages.  Her words were meant to smooth the moment when we needed soothing.  I did not understand, she was already on her way to Dad.  She left me no time to weep or to whine. 

                      In two month’s time, she did indeed follow Dad.  That did not rime with the rhythm of my pain.  Only yesterday I felt Dad’s hand holding mine and I still had more questions for my Mom.  Suddenly, she too was gone, she was not there, she landed in my heart along with Dad.

                      Then my dear brother sighed his last in 2007, fifty years after Mother and Dad.  I was not ready then either, he still had much to teach me.  Then to add the final blow, the coup de grace, my beloved Erv followed Ben in 2008!  Erv had lost his verve; he could no longer wait for me.  He broke his promise that we would go together perhaps jump off a cliff, holding hands!  He had to go and leave me with only my memories for company. They continue to glow despite the terrifying blow.  Missing is a heavy weight to bear.  Nevertheless,  I will always honor my dear ones, my lost ones by living, doing, hoping, trusting, remembering and embracing them.

Monday, October 12, 2015

Many Davids


   The Men in My Life              8/12/15

     David & Joel are among my closest friends.  They share their wisdom, their love and their listening ears with me. I cherish and depend upon their friendship.  I do believe that we share each others lives as true friends are supposed to do.  We are interested in on another and always challenged.  They are my brothers.

     Once upon a time I had a brother with whom I shared genes and arguments. He was four years older than I.  When we were children I did not think so much of his wisdom but was embattled more by his huge intellect and his physical strength.  He could painfully twist my arm without breaking it; he could do it and elicit my screams and get in trouble with our Mom.  That big intelligence failed to threaten me as much as it encouraged me to lay back and refuse to compete.  As we grew and became adults, he and I found a developing respect for one another.  I depended upon his political know-how, he stopped treating me as a kid sister.

     I recall the day that he won Junior Phi Beta Kappa, after the excitement simmered down I realized that I was next up.  I made a decision, said to my parents, “Do not expect anything like that from me.”  I met my own mark; I was a good student throughout school: valedictorian in the eighth grade; along the way to college there was the high school honor society and advanced classes, with an easy acceptance to the University of Michigan. Perhaps my brother was a role model that stretched me just far enough to do well, I was also encouraged by my parents to be myself. There is no Phi Beta Kappa in my history, no sense of disappointment either. At the University, I was not the most popular girl on campus, but I had fun; I had a boyfriend whose name was David.  That name has been attached to meaningful men in my life.  Even in high school, there was a boy named David who was one of my best friends.  Today he is a retired Hollywood director.

     Why the name David has an especially warm and wonderful ring for me, I will never understand.  So much so that when we adopted our son, there was no question that he would have the name David.  Because we also wished to honor my husband’s grandfather whose name had been Jacob, we chose Jeffrey David for our son.  His Hebrew name was Yaacov David.

     I did not marry a David.  My husband’s name was Erwin Lee, it too always landed softly onto my ears.  The reason that we did not name our son after my husband, it is against Jewish tradition to name a child after someone living.  Like so many “old wives tales” this was explained to me this way: if you name a child after the living, the Angel of Death may come by and make a mistake.  Davids come and go in my life. At the moment I have a good friend, my counselor who helps me navigate some of the rough spots that occur in life.  Yes, his name is David!

     In these late years of mine, I have found that a friendship with a man is valuable and fun without romance.  Men and women share many viewpoints, but there are huge differences among people; I am always happy to understand another side of the story.  The men in my life today and those there yesterday have always been supportive, helpful and challenging.  I am so grateful to be alive and enjoying my friends. Of course my very best friend was my husband of almost 63 years.  He is a story unto himself.

    

Saturday, October 3, 2015

1945


                                                1945             October 3, 2015


1945 was a very good year,

With one exception that’s clear.

FDR died in ’45.

A man who honestly did strive

 

To be the great President who

Saw us through World War II.

He slew the giant, the monster

We called him, Hitler the gangster.

 

Roosevelt kept us safe, unharmed

He really did it and unarmed:

He said,

We read:

       The test of our progress is not

         whether we add more to the abundance

         of those who have much;

        it is whether we provide

        enough for those who have too little.”

 

I believed in Roosevelt

I liked the hand he dealt.

’45 was a very good year

It brought little fear.

 

‘Twas the year we married

We were in love, never tarried.

Seventy years this month I’ll mark

Each year was a celebratory lark.

 

I score the day quietly, alone.

Sadness will be the day’s mood and tone.

The joy and the happiness I had

Bring memories that make me sad,

 

  Remind me of the great years we shared,

  Recall for me today how much we cared.

  Franklin Roosevelt kept us alive

   in 19 hundred and 45!

 

  Yes, it was a truly special year!

  Though October 7th brings a tear.