The Sister-Friends Bereavement Society Parade

"You have found a place in my heart, and so that place is yours. It will fly your flag, speak your language, and honor you with festive parades forever." (Leigh Standley, Curly Girl Design.) 

Once upon a time, 20+ years ago, a friend was dying and we went to see her. It was a lovely visit and I left knowing I had told her how much she meant to me. Later, I wrote her a letter, not knowing if she'd ever see it or know I sent it. I needed to know that I hadn't failed to tell her the important place she would always hold in my heart. Then one day, I carried all the groceries up from the garage and Mike was standing in the kitchen with the news he didn't have to say out loud. 

The Sister-Friends Bereavement Society not a fun club. The meetings are unbearable and I’m tired of attending them.

But now, another meeting of the Society will be called to order and I'm a little angry about that. I'm consoling myself with the knowledge that this sister-friend knows how I feel about her. Because I told her. And then I told her again. And she thanked me. This summer, I joked that I had no unfinished business with her — well, except for the unplayed mah jongg games and the Cosmos we wouldn't drink together. 

Don't get me wrong, this going to be horrible. It always is. I will miss her with a searing sadness. But I will attempt to honor her wishes (“Don’t cry!”) and try to honor her with festive parades instead of tears.

Artwork & words © 2011 Leigh Standley, Curly Girl Design Inc.
www.curlygirldesign.com
(A card I gave to my friend last week.)

Regarding 9/11/2001. Choosing Hope and Love.

Regarding 9/11/2001. Written on 9/11/2011. Posted on 9/11/2016

[A friend sent an email to her friends, asking for their 9/11 memories. I decided to go ahead and share something I wrote for myself in 2011.]

I was in my cubicle at work at Aspen. Suddenly, I hear Stephanie arriving and she’s saying she just heard on her car radio that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. Like many others, I imagined a small private plane, but she said no it was a commercial airliner. Next I remember several of us standing around wondering what happened. Then someone said another plane had hit the other tower and then I knew it was not an accident and this was what we all came to know as the attack on the WTC. 

In those first minutes, my first thoughts were of my sister, Susan, who lived in Jersey City but whose office was just blocks away from the WTC. Then I remembered, oh wait, she’s not there. She died in February. 

But what about her husband Francois and her colleagues who worked there as well? Then there was Mike’s brother Thom, and Nancy and Jillian who lived in NYC. For some reason though, I wasn’t too worried about them, because in my mind’s eye I pictured them far enough north to not be in immediate danger. Of course, I learned later that they spent the morning scrambling to get Jillian from her school.

I remember standing at my computer trying to get on line to a news site. I went to the conference room and turned on the tv and tried to tune it to a news channel. I actually moved the tv cart around trying to find a spot where we could get some reception. I remembered my emergency radio and took it up to the front desk so that Brenda could listen for news.

People were starting to hear from family members who were trying to leave their workplaces in DC because by now a plane had crashed into the Pentagon and there were reports of a fourth plane coming towards DC. Of course, we later learned that plane would crash in Pennsylvania.

At some point I heard from Mike who was at work, and from Jennifer who was at home. She had just arrived the day before after driving down from Boston—on her way to California after graduating from college. She was upset and trying to convince Mike that he should leave work since he worked in a government building. He finally got word that they could leave. I wasn’t sure where Shanksville was, but thought it was far enough away from Amelia at Penn State that I felt she was safe. I don’t remember when I talked to her. I just remember knowing she was OK.

I’m not sure now, why I didn’t get hysterical and rush to pick up Elena at school. Someone asked me and it didn’t make sense to me—I figured she was safe, right where she was. I finally went home so I could be there when the kids got off the bus. I remember when Kim and Elena came up the street, I was worried about Kim going home to an empty house because I wasn’t sure Sandy and Sam had been able to leave work. She said she’d come back up if no one was home. 

I went next door to the Ritterpusch’s to check on them because John and Lynn were in Hawaii at a convention. Of course, their grandparents were already there. It would take days for John and Lynn to get on a plane and make their way home.

We spent the rest of day watching tv and listening to the news on NPR and trying to NOT upset each other, and especially Elena. By evening we had been able to check in with family and knew that Amelia was fine at Penn State, Francois was fine, that Thom, Nancy and Jillian were fine, and that the rest of the family was OK.

Looking back, it seems like those next days all merged together. I don’t remember much except watching the tv and checking in with people. My niece, Jama was supposed to have arrived here from Los Angeles on the 11^th and was stuck in LA. Her boyfriend had arrived on the 10^th and was staying in a tiny basement room in northern VA. We went and picked him up on the 14^th, thinking he shouldn’t be alone and was safer here in Gaithersburg. Jennifer’s friend from Boston finally made it here, and the two of them continued their post-college-adventure-road-trip out to California. They left here on the 18^th. Jama arrived from California and she and Brian stayed here until they found an apartment. They were both starting jobs on The Hill and have spent the last 10 years living in DC and NYC. Jennifer made it to LA on the 26^th. Elena had her meniscus repair surgery on the 28^th. 

Our lives went on. All of us went on, but we were the lucky ones. Our hearts were broken and we were scared. But we didn’t have gigantic holes in our lives where loved ones once stood.

I won’t go into my feelings about everything that’s happened since 9/11/01. And I won’t presume to tell you how you should feel. I’ll just say that I refuse to give in to hate---even after so many people have tried to get me to hate others, and after all the opportunities I had to hate. I will always choose Hope and Love.

9/11/2016

The Story You Are About to Hear

Once upon a time, 

I planned to go to grad school and law school and be a clinical psychologist with a law degree and help people. 

But then, Life. 

Also Grades. Also GRE scores.

And so I joined the ranks of working mothers, doing (to quote a favorite singer/songwriter John Stewart) “the best they could” and doing it “pretty up and walking good.” (John Stewart, "Mother Country")

And when John Hinckley shot a President and three other people and then got off on the insanity defense, I thought, well I sure am glad I won’t ever be asked to defend a client like that.

Today’s news has reminded me about all of that. And it reminded me of how, over the years, I have offered my thoughts and prayers to all the people who have had to spend their careers watching over this guy, and for the families of the four victims, and felt bad for the people who live at his mother’s residence who have to see him every day during his visits.

The other part of my initial reaction was to wonder WTH this judge was thinking?? I do not understand how he came to this decision (even with all the restrictions on JH). Then I happened to see someone claiming “of course he’s a Clinton appointee” so that explains it. Huh? I’m pretty sure that if we were a “Clinton supporter” as well as appointee, he would not have chosen this day for his decision. Optics and all that. No, I think he’s just another judge, sitting in his chambers, reviewing all the arguments and making a decision with no clue about the calendar.

Apparently, he’s done some “good work” in his career - including seeking to reverse a previous bad decision. This does not feel like a “good work” to me.

I’m not even a fan of Reagan or most of his family. But this creep shot not only a president, but three others. This release order might be legally OK. But it just doesn’t feel morally OK.

Thoughts and prayers to all remaining Reagan family members; to the James Brady family and to the two surviving victims Thomas Delahanty and Timothy J. McCarthy; and to all our civil servants who have to spend their time watching over this creep and making sure he follows the rules and stays on his drugs.

For me it’s another sad day in gun history, mental health care, and for the legal system. 

Here's my overused thought that I'm tired of posting.