NOTE: As I approach my 70th birthday, I’ve reposted a milestone post each day. But since tomorrow is The Day I went back and grabbed a bunch of photos – watching years fly by. Here they are – in no particular order.
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.
There 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?.
A “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.
There we are, our sweet sweet family with it's newly married eldest and his lovely brand-new wife. It's an out-of-body experience to watch your son get married, and this was a wonderful one. I'd been very nervous: would it go well after the two of them had worked so hard on every detail, would they have fun, would we cry, would I look ok (well, after all, those photos last forever.)
It all did go well. The groom (in the middle) was so joyous and ready, his speech so sure and calm; his wife so lovely and pleased, his brother (on the right)offering the loveliest, funniest, just-rightest toast ever. There were only 80 of us so over the weekend we became a kind of tribe, tables shifting as people moved around enjoying the event, and one another.
It was a great joy to me to see how much the boys feel for each other. I have, today, two of my dearest wishes: that my children be good friends and that each son find a partner who is wonderful, honorable and loving. So far so good.
I'd been thinking for months about the power of time, of change. One of my friends commented on my Facebook page that "I remember when Josh was xeroxing his little hands in the office!" I do too. And I thought I'd be consumed by those kinds of thoughts. But this just felt right, timely and good for everyone. No nostalgia, not "where are you going my little one, little one" "sunrise, sunset" thoughts at all. Just gratitude at the happiness and love that surrounded the bride, the groom and the rest of us. May it always be so.
These two sweeties will be married on Sunday. One of them is my son. My first born. My baby. I don’t know why I’ve been so reluctant to write about it; it’s a beautiful relationship and a joyous moment in all of our lives. But I have been silent, or almost so, about it for some time. Can’t seem to let myself write. My sweet friend Karin Lippert, noting my cryptic tweet, wrote:
Congratulations… mixed emotions are the new normal, the new black? No, we have all always had overwhelming,wonderful emotions about our kids…
She’s right, I guess. The mix isn’t between wishing well and not so well, it’s between joy and respect for the place these two have found together in the world, and my profound sense of time passing, and of change. I’ll keep you posed when I can.
It's pouring in Chicago. We arrived early this morning at the end of Phase One of our Great Adventure. So you don't feel uninformed, here's the story:
Rick and I are in the Metropolitan Lounge at Union Station in Chicago waiting for the Southwest Chief. You can see the route above. Actually I'm more excited than annoyed – it is something we would have never done if we didn't need to. I can't picture the accommodations – I'm betting on a cross between all those black and white thrillers where people were always chasing each other up and down the aisles and flirting in the bed-sitting rooms and who knows what. We'll see. Meanwhile we're in the lounge with about a billion people on an "America by Train" group, with some smoker's coughs, name tags for all, and a pretty friendly environment. I'm too tired to be friendly though. Unusual for me.
We all feel gratitude for the beautiful moments in our lives. In the observant Jewish life we live now those moments are often built around life-cycle events, usually moving and sometimes profound. Last week, we had a Sunday that brought the entire thing into broad relief. It's taken me a week to think it through and write about it though. It was just so huge.
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
Tonight 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.
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.
This is the hand of my soon-to-be daughter-in-law. The ring on her finger is 65 years old. At least. I know this because it was my mother’s wedding ring, which she wore until she died, and which I have worn ever since. And now, another generation of our family will wear it as a wedding ring. It’s a joy for me and symbolic of so much: continuity, Amy’s acceptance of us as part of her life, her respect for Josh’s origins, and, as she readily acknowledges, a love of tradition and history.
When your child decides to get married; it’s a big deal. New configurations must be established as two families converge: new sensibilities, new rituals and traditions. More important than all of that though is the wish, the hope, the prayer, that these two people, one of whom you have loved with your whole heart since he entered the world and one you have learned to love — that they will find happiness, the strength to weather inevitable storms, a continuation of the laughter and friendship they so clearly share, of the closeness each feels with siblings and parents, and as much joy as can be apportioned to them.
Seeing this ring, part of my own family since before I was, moving forward in this way, means all those things, stands for everything eternal that we seek and sometimes find. It’s a gift beyond measure to me and to the family we’ve been and the one we, and they, are still becoming.
I went to see Sex and the City tonight with a group of women in their 20’s, much younger than Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte or Miranda. I’m older than all of them. They liked it, thought it was disorganized, or OK, or so-so or good. I loved it.
As I tried to explain why, I got strangely emotional, struggling to describe how Samantha’s 50th birthday, the remarkable relationship shared by these four friends, the happy endings and the fairy tale aura, just made me happy. It’s tough to measure the impact of experience on a life perspective, or the different perspective of those just beginning to accumulate those experiences; good friends who are young adults newly married or newly parents – still far from my place as the mother of grown sons.
This, the film’s opening weekend, saw it push Indiana Jones out of first place. I’ve complained a great deal about the latest Indy movie. My husband emailed our older son that the movie "sucked." He responded that he had loved, it, that it was just "one big comic book." Clearly, he felt the same way I’d felt about the girls of Sex and the City. As he put it, with his usual wisdom "I guess everything is a matter of perspective."
Tonight 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.
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.