Big Birthday Memory #13: Best Friends Forever

NOTE: As I approach my 70th birthday, I’ll reprise a milestone post here each day until the end of May. Today – from November 17, 2007.

cindy and janeThere we are – Jane and me on her porch one summer during college.  Friends since Brownies, we’ve always had a warm, respectful and sturdy relationship, interrupted by years at a time but never diminished.  Recently she sent photos of a family reunion – her four kids and their spouses and all their kids. And some things she had written.  Beautiful things. Especially about her parents.  I knew them well; I spent so many Saturday nights at their house, even going to church with them in the morning.  They never ate breakfast before Communion but Jane’s mom always insisted that I eat something even though I was going with them  After all, I wasn’t taking Communion so why not?.

cindy_and_jane_yearbookA “nice Jewish girl” in a mill town suburb (here I’m on the right and Jane on the left,)I had no Jewish friends; Jane, Catholic, was my dearest.  What might have been a huge cultural gap was just a curiosity; differences in our lives but not in how we felt about one another.  We’d always sworn to be at one another’s weddings; I’ll never forget her beautiful one in the cathedral at Notre Dame.  Years later, when it was my turn, Jane was living in Dallas and already a mother; she just couldn’t make it.
Then, just days before our wedding, she called.  “Do you still have room on that boat of yours?” (We got married on a boat.)  “I have to keep our promise- I’m coming!”  It was so great and meant so much.  Just as she knew it would.
That was 36 years ago; almost twice the age we were when the top photo was taken.  But it doesn’t matter.  The blessing of shared memories — of remembering each other’s parents and the Girl Scout trip to New York and her first love, who died in Vietnam — and mine, who ran off, perpetually stoned, to Santa Barbara —  those memories make her part of so much of who I was and who I’ve become.  What a gift to me that the one whose friendship blessed me was so blessed herself – generous and fine — helping me to be what she knew I had to be when I wasn’t sure myself what that was…not at all.

Farewell to Friends

Ramona and CindyThis is me with my new sister Ramona.  We met when we were looking to share a car to Mont-Saint-Michele and she and her amazing husband decided to join us.  We have had the best week.  Remarkable how quickly relationships form in a travel environment.

Now she is returning to her home in Beirut with her husband to await a new grandchild due within days of ours.  We had a wonderful time with them.  Thanks my friend!  And send pictures.

“There’s not a word yet, for old friends who’ve just met.” 
― Jim Henson,

ROSH HASHANAH ONE REDUX: ONE YEAR AGO

I’m posting this again, one year later, because the feelings remain and the holiday arrived last night.  I’ve set the timer to post this during the holiday [That way I didn’t have to break the rules and post it during down time.]  When you hear about things like the urgency of the bail out vote because of the Jewish Holiday of Rosh Hashanah – this is what they’re talking about.   
September 12, 2007    
A NEW YEAR, A 36th WEDDING ANNIVERSARY, A LOT TO THINK ABOUT

Wedding_familyTonight begins Rosh Hashanah – the New Year celebration that launches the holy season of the Days of Awe that continues until Yom Kippur – the Day of Atonement.  It’s also a huge day for me – in more than one way.  Rick and I were married 36 years ago today.
On a boat on the Monongahela River.   We’ve been through a lot – maybe
more than most couples – but we’ve hung on and we’re reaping the
rewards of a shared history.  So to have this remarkable landmark fall
on the eve of a holy day of renewal is really something.

This is another anniversary, too.  Our third living an observant
life.  We first came here for Rosh Hashanah services 4 years ago, met our remarkable rabbi and began the journey that has led us to a new, moving, inspiring, frustrating, challenging, occasionally painful, sometimes completely uplifting life.
We share new feelings, new friends, new aspirations to goodness and a
sense of God, new challenges and inspirations.  AND we’re still sharing
them with each other.  That too is remarkable.

Now as we move toward observance of these days, toward prayers and
meals and friends and — especially joyful – a visit from one of our
sons and his girl friend, I am both grateful and anxious.  We are
supposed to think about debts and obligations, sins and redemption.  I
still carry a painful resentment – toward someone who
has hurt me deeply and, I suspect, believes that I hurt them.  I need
to deal with this but am still struggling to figure out how.  But I
know I will – that I must.  That’s the other gift of this season – a
confrontation with the personal flaws that impede our prayers and our
happiness. 

To those who have offered us so much guidance and support, with whom
we’ve had such fun and such meaningful prayers (and meals – and visits)
I wish you the gift of as much goodness as you’ve brought us – an
enormous deluge of joy.  To our dear rabbi and his family a special
thanks for being our gateway to this new life and all that it has
meant. 

Rick_cindy
And to Rick, my partner, love and best friend, eternal gratitude to you
for your courage and determination, love and generosity, talents and
humor and incredible incredible soul.  Happy anniversary.  Thanks for
the memories, the adventures, our amazing children,  and this
astonishing, still emerging journey.  L’shana tova.

BEST FRIENDS FOREVER

CindyandjanesmallThere we are** – Jane and me on her porch one summer during college.  Friends since Brownies, we’ve always had a warm, respectful and sturdy relationship, interrupted by years at a time but never diminished.  Recently she sent photos of a family reunion – her four kids and their spouses and all their kids. And some things she had written.  Beautiful things. Especially about her parents.  I knew them well; I spent so many Saturday nights at their house, even going to church with them in the morning.  They never ate breakfast before Communion but Jane’s mom always insisted that I eat something even though I was going with them  After all, I wasn’t taking Communion so why not?.

Cindy_and_jane_yearbook
A "nice Jewish girl" in a milltown suburb (here I"m on the right and Jane on the left, I had no Jewish friends; Jane, Catholic, was my dearest.  What might have been a huge cultural gap was just a curiousity; differences in our lives but not in how we felt about one another.  We’d always sworn to be at one another’s weddings; I’ll never forget her beautiful one in the cathedral at Notre Dame.  Years later, when it was my turn, Jane was living in Dallas and already a mother; she just couldn’t make it.
Then, just days before our wedding, she called.  "Do you still have room on that boat of yours?" (We got married on a boat.)  "I have to keep our promise- I’m coming!"  It was so great and meant so much.  Just as she knew it would.
That was 36 years ago; almost twice the age we were when the top photo was taken.  But it doesn’t matter.  The blessing of shared memories — of remembering each other’s parents and the Girl Scout trip to New York and her first love, who died in Vietnam — and mine, who ran off, perpetually stoned, to Santa Barbara —  those memories make her part of so much of who I was and who I’ve become.  What a gift to me that the one whose friendship blessed me was so blessed herself – generous and fine — helping me to be what she knew I had to be when I wasn’t sure myself what that was…not at all.

***NOTE: In order to observe the Sabbath, this post was written in late October and set to post on Saturday morning November 17th.

A NEW YEAR, A 36th WEDDING ANNIVERSARY, A LOT TO THINK ABOUT

Wedding_familyTonight begins Rosh Hashanah – the New Year celebration that launches the holy season of the Days of Awe that continues until Yom Kippur – the Day of Atonement.  It’s also a huge day for me – in more than one way.  Rick and I were married 36 years ago today.  On a boat on the Monongahela River.   We’ve been through a lot – maybe more than most couples – but we’ve hung on and we’re reaping the rewards of a shared history.  So to have this remarkable landmark fall on the eve of a holy day of renewal is really something.

This is another anniversary, too.  Our third living an observant life.  We first came here for Rosh Hashanah services 4 years ago, met our remarkable rabbi and began the journey that has led us to a new, moving, inspiring, frustrating, challenging, occasionally painful, sometimes completely uplifting life.  We share new feelings, new friends, new aspirations to goodness and a sense of God, new challenges and inspirations.  AND we’re still sharing them with each other.  That too is remarkable.

Now as we move toward observance of these days, toward prayers and meals and friends and — especially joyful – a visit from one of our sons and his girl friend, I am both grateful and anxious.  We are supposed to think about debts and obligations, sins and redemption.  I still carry a painful family resentment – toward someone I love but who has hurt me deeply and , I suspect, believes that I hurt her.  I need to deal with this but am still struggling to figure out how.  But I know I will – that I must.  That’s the other gift of this season – a confrontation with the personal flaws that impede our prayers and our happiness.  My dear one, if you read this, know how much I love you and that we will find our way past this – I promise.

To those who have offered us so much guidance and support, with whom we’ve had such fun and such meaningful prayers (and meals – and visits) I wish you the gift of as much goodness as you’ve brought us – an enormous deluge of joy.  To our dear rabbi and his family a special thanks for being our gateway to this new life and all that it has meant. 

Rick_cindy
And to Rick, my partner, love and best friend, eternal gratitude to you for your courage and determination, love and generosity, talents and humor and incredible incredible soul.  Happy anniversary.  Thanks for the memories, the adventures, our amazing children,  and this astonishing, still emerging journey.  L’shana tova.

SHARING FRIENDS, BUILDING BRIDGES

Josiah_noah_1These two little guys, Josiah (in the closet) and Noah (in the doorway) just met each other. That didn’t bother them, of course. Five minutes after they met, which was about ten after seven this morning, they had each grabbed a push toy and taken off down the hall, leaving their moms to get to know each other.

Josiah’s mom, Anna, is very dear to me. Once our neighbors, she and her husband moved back home to Atlanta once this sweet young man arrived. They’ve got great family and childhood connections here in the land of the peaches so it’s only fair, but we miss them like crazy. I’ve loved having this trip to see their new house and the life they’ve built here because seeing it and knowing it’s right for them makes it a little easier that it’s not near us.

Noah (now don’t get confused – I mean Noah in the picture though Josiah’s father is also named Noah) is the son of my friend Liza – also a blogger and good, good friend. I introduced the two moms; I don’t seem capable of not doing such “you two should REALLY know each other” matchmaking, and it made me so happy to be with them and their boys. Somehow it’s easier to be far from them if they’re near each other.

I’m supposed to be the wise older friend but I’ve mourned Anna, Noah and Josiah’s departure almost daily – happy for them and so so sad at their absence from our old movie weekends and quick last-minute meals. We’re wealthy in our friendships and deeply grateful for the families who have become part of ours, but loving one friend doesn’t mean you don’t miss another one. So it was a real joy to be with them and to know I’m leaving them richer for having met one another. See you soon my sisters.

REBIRTH OF WONDER (REDUX)– DEATH AND LAWRENCE FERLINGHETTI

Ferlinghetti_1One more deadline, one more rerun- the last for a while, I promise.

In A Coney Island of the Mind, San Francisco poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti wrote of a search for a rebirth of wonder.* It’s out there – that wonder — sometimes in the strangest places.

Here is what I know: Some things in life surprise us — not with shock but with wonder. Today we flew to Boston for Rick’s dad’s funeral. It was a beautiful day – sunny and almost as warm as spring. With Rick and me traveled not only our remarkable rabbi, but also two of Rick’s dearest friends. Despite the mid-week madness of Washington, they had chosen to leave their work and fly north to support us. In addition, the sisters of two friends unable to come arrived as their surrogates. That was the first wondrous thing.

An Orthodox funeral is deceptively simple. The coffin is a plain pine box held together with pegs. As it leaves the hearse it is borne by the mourners to its place over the grave. On the way, Psalm 91 is recited and the procession stops seven times. Once the coffin – reverently referred to as the "aron" is in place, the service proceeds.

Cemetery_1_1With our rabbi leading the service, each step along the way was accompanied by warm and loving exposition: Why do we do this? — How should we participate? — What is the blessing of bearing the aron and seeing to its burial? As he led the prayers and answered these questions, it was with such love and individuality that participation became a privilege and a comfort. That is the second wondrous thing.

As the service moved toward conclusion the rabbi explained the final act. We, not the cemetery employees, would bury the coffin – my husband’s father. One by one, we took up the shovels and poured earth into the grave. Not until the grave was full and the coffin covered did we leave… and then, all those in attendance formed a double line so that Rick and his brother could pass through, moving from the funeral to the initial mourning period, or Shiva.

This last, loving duty is perhaps the most remarkable of what an Orthodox Jewish funeral offers mourners. At the funerals of each of my parents, way before we moved into this new life, the cemetery distributed little envelopes of "dirt from Israel" which attendees dropped on the coffin. We all left then, and the cemetery employees finished the job.

I told my sister about the custom that mourners fill the grave, thinking that she, who is not thrilled with our decision to live a more observant life, would be appalled. Instead, she said "That’s so great – leaving them covered and at peace. I felt so badly leaving Daddy there so exposed…." That’s probably the most critical. Imagine the difference, at the close of such a painful day, filled with loss and grief, if you knew you’d bid a farewell that leaves your loved one cared for and at peace. Imagine, too, that those you love – beloved friends and family members – have all left a part of themselves there in the grave; that the final resting place includes their loving labor. That’s the final wondrous thing.

We’re nowhere near the Age of Wonder, that’s for sure. But we are occasionally given a peek. Today the window opened and a bit emerged — not quite a rebirth but present nonetheless — just enough to help us see what’s possible. If that’s not wonder, I don’t know what is.

*I Am Waiting
I am waiting for my case to come up
and I am waiting
for a rebirth of wonder
and I am waiting for someone
to really discover America
and wail
and I am waiting
for the discovery
of a new symbolic western frontier
and I am waiting
for the American Eagle
to really spread its wings
and straighten up and fly right
and I am waiting
for the Age of Anxiety
to drop dead
and I am waiting
for the war to be fought
which will make the world safe
for anarchy
and I am waiting
for the final withering away
of all governments
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder

CAUSE YOU GOTTA HAVE FRIEH-EH-ENDS

ParachuteMy friend is an Army veteran. She’s even parachuted from airplanes and she’s smart as a whip. Married to a philosopher who used to teach as West Point, she’s moving with him and their boys to the Middle East so he can be military attache at the US Embassy.

I met her at a nonprofit seminar – she was running a miitary families organization and I was looking for business. We got to talking. She believes there is a “military class” of people who follow one another, from generation to generation, into the service. Because they pass military life on within their families, civilans have gradually lost any connection to them.

Educated, comfortable American civilians often don’t even know a soldier. Not one. So she and I decided we would use the Internet to break down the walls – bring women together online to get to know each other and help reduce the tension and distrust between the two cultures. That never worked out; too many interests competing and not enough money to make it happen.

We, however, did cross all those barriers. Politics, religion, lifestyle. . . so much different. Still, we could go to lunch and keep talking until one of us realized someone needed to be picked up or invited to dinner or pitched for a new contract. There is always just so much to talk aboutl

And so my dear much respected and valued friend – Godspeed. Embrace the exotic as I know you will and cram in as many adventures as you can, as I know you will. I’m back here – eager to hear about your adventures and always ready for lunch!