Grief and Gratitude

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

Another Reflection on "Joy and Pain, Like Sunshine and Rain"

"Honey, everything's OK, don't you think? Fundamentally?" This is what I'm telling our cat Phoebe as she whimpers/kvetches while zig-zagging around the room.

And it is, thank God. It's also a sad time. Thirty years ago this month, my dad (z"l) died of common bile duct cancer. I keep thinking of him. And then this morning, I open up "The New York Times" to see that my friend Susannah Sheffer's dad (z"l) died on Friday of complications from a stroke. Reading about Mr. Sheffer, I'm 17 again. I went to the designated URL to post a memory:

Zichrono l’vrachah (z”l)/may his memory be for a blessing. The Sheffers were kind to me during the Summer of ’82 by hosting me in their home for three days a week, so that I could serve as an intern at the Museum of Philosophy at Hunter College with their daughter Susannah and other teens.

My father (z”l) who was a toy and game designer, was dying at Columbia-Presbyterian that summer and I needed a distraction. We lived in Stamford and drove in to see him daily. My mom told the museum’s director that I could serve as an intern if he found me a place to stay 3 nights a week. The Sheffers kindly took me in.

Once while at the Sheffers’, I turned Susannah’s radio to WBLS-FM and bobbed my head to “Rapper’s Delight” — R&B, Rap and Funk were also distractions from my dad’s imminent death (Groups like The Clash were more Susannah’s speed). Mrs. Sheffer walked past Susannah’s room and stood there listening, apparently amused and bemused in parallel.

I remain grateful for the Sheffer family’s kindness when I was 17, and am sorry for the loss of Mr. Sheffer; my mom and I know what it’s like to lose a dear, funny, creative husband and father.

This morning, I spent three hours, cleaning up our front-, side- and backyards, raking away dead leaves and mowing grass. I cleared away the dead stuff and enabled what was underneath to breathe more easily. My tidying up the yard was a classic example of humankind, trying to control nature and make it neat.

Nature is not neat. It is super-symmetrical and then wildly jagged, and in any case, not ultimately tameable, but I sure was trying! We wanted to control my dad's (z"l) wellness, too, and couldn't. And we wanted to keep our power during the Sandy storm, but couldn't.

Even as I mourn the loss of my dad (z"l), Mr. Sheffer (z"l) and a number of tree-limbs, I am so grateful for the life I have today, which I like to inventory every so often:

• Pat Hewitt & I have been together for 20 years and married officially for 16 months
• We love our mothers, who are still alive, and our siblings, and niece and nephews
• We have two feline daughters, who delight us, Phoebe and Toonces
• We have close friends
• We live in a well-maintained house in a great town, just 14 miles west of NYC
• Our synagogue is led by gifted rabbis and has lovely congregants
• I love the work I do and mission I have, and the management and company with whom and which I'm affiliated
• I've met some of my closest friends at work
• I'm free to be a corporate activist for LGBT equality for our clients and colleagues
• Social media enable me to express my creativity among new channels
• My employer sent me to India on a 6-month assignment (and Pat was able to accompany me), and it sponsored my Master's, which I earned last May
• My physical and mental health are good
• I feel free to experiment at work
• Art abounds, whether on TV, in films, museums and books, and I relish all of it
• I know how to swim and can find a pool to use nearly everywhere I travel.

I lost my dad too early, but life has continued, and vividly, even so.

My Cross-country Skiing Adventure

The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies.

Brief, but Sweet

What an excellent afternoon I've had, thanks to a satisfyingly arm-wrenching amount of exercise on my cross-country skis. I wore my iPod and ski-goggles and still felt the wind, burning the exposed part of my cheeks, just like when I played in the snow as a kid or went down-hill skiing throughout my adolescence. And it's the most powerful feeling I know to walk with my left arm slung over the front half of my skis as I walk to and from my destination with them perched on my left shoulder. Just like with rollerblading, probably, I think I look so much cooler than I do when I'm carrying the skis so cavalierly....

The sun was bright and the air was colder than I expected. Cars passed and I wanted to be seen, but didn't look at the people in them, as I didn't want to seem less cool by doing so.

If I could play in nature daily, I'm sure I'd be calmer and more satisfied with my life.

Here was the musical score for my adventure:

1. Your Woman - White Town
   
2. Everything You Want - Vertical Horizon
   
3. Ice Ice Baby - Vanilla Ice
   
4. My Boo - Usher & Alicia Keys
   
5. Automatic - Ultra Nate
   
6. New Year's Day - U2
   
7. Pride (In the Name of Love) - U2
   
8. I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking for - U2
   
9. Spread My Wings - Troop
   
10. All I Do is Think of You - Troop
    
11. Bonita Applebum - A Tribe Called Quest
    
12. Fast Car - Tracy Chapman
    
13. Talkin' Bout a Revolution - Tracy Chapman
    
14. The Piano Has Been Drinking (Not Me) - Tom Waits
    
15. Life Is a Highway - Tom Cochrane
    
16. Hello It's Me - Todd Rundgren
    
17. No Scrubs - TLC
    
18. Voices Carry - 'Til Tuesday
    

Thomas Dolby's "She Blinded Me with Science" is continuing on my laptop where my iPod left off. It reminds me of dances during my senior year of high school, after my dad of blessed memory died. Music is so hope-delivering. Teena Marie's on now: "I Need Your Lovin'" -- bought it twice by mistake, but it's so good, maybe I'll listen to it twice. Reminds me of rollerskating at 15.

"Square Biz" by Teena Marie came next, in '81 and was an even better roller-skating song. Lady T's "Lovergirl" came out my sophomore year at Michigan and it reminds me of going to the town's lesbian bar at the time, the Rubiyat, as clandestinely as possible. Watched, mesmerized, as a smooth-dancing brunette led another woman around the dance-floor to it.

Tears for Fears' "Shout" came out the same year and it told me persistently to "Shout, shout, let it all out...." I didn't listen for another three years, when I finally came out as lesbian to my family. Fortunately, no shouting was involved.

T.V. Carpio was introduced to me just a couple of years ago by a colleague at work. He told me she sang the Beatles' "I Want to Hold Your Hand" to another woman heartbreakingly, from the movie, "Across the Universe;" I still need to see the film.

I'd like to say I recall hearing Sylvester's "You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)" in 1978 when I was 13, but I'm not sure that's true. Still, as soon as I did, it became a favorite and is playing on my iPod now. "Tom's Diner" by Suzanne Vega reminds me of living with my first girlfriend on Roscoe and Broadway in Chicago, even though "Luka" was the song that came out in 1987, when we lived together. "Tom's Diner" came out in '84 apparently. Till reading about it on Wikipedia just now, I never realized that it was referring to the restaurant near my partner's aunt's home. Pat's aunt died in 2006, but I still pass the restaurant all the time on my way to class at Teacher's College.

What memories will I recall in 2029 (God willing) about the music I'm listening to in 2009?

Nature at its Best

The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.

Flowers, Foliage and Food

Pat is cooking scallops that were caught in the Atlantic Ocean off of New Jersey this morning and that a fisherman brought to the farmers' market in Montclair today. They're huge and beautiful. She took me for a quick walk around our property while the butter began to do its work.

I saw flowers that we missed while we were in India last year: red and purple dahlias, yellow and white lillies, gladioli in a variety of colors and the willow tree we added to the backyard this past spring.

In the fridge is a strawberry festival in a box, that is, at my request, Pat bought boxes and boxes of the cute, sweet fruit, so I could bring in a bunch of it for my 25 classmates and professors in celebration of my birthday tomorrow. I've opted to adopt the Indian custom of giving out sweets on one's birthday -- just not the candy variety.

The Chipwirrel Revealed!

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.



Pat and I discovered him or her during our second day in Bangalore. The photo is by Pat, who not only coined the name for the squirrel-sized chipmunk, but whose camera also caught the chipwirrel, perhaps mid-prowl....

More Life, Going On

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

[C]haikus

Broken robin's egg
Tiny splash on our blacktop
Spotted while walking

Crown of golden fluff
Small mouth unhinged and skyward
No survivor's guilt

My friend's mother died
Please, God, don't let mine die, too
She was fairly young

Crown of tawny fringe
Named, like my friend, for granddad
Too young to get it

Death or Sports Car Pride

At work, we've got an online community for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender (GLBT) IBMers and every other IBMer who's interested in maintaining an exchange. Last fall, not long after the following experience happened, I wrote about it on that forum:

My mom was recovering from a hospitalization for colitis. One of the days when I went to visit her was especially warm and bright.

For what felt like miles and miles, I was on a two-laned road, following a guy driving a vivid blue Corvette convertible. A small, clear, blue glass dolphin was swinging from the rear-view mirror and the driver wore a white baseball cap.

This guy knows how to live, I decided. How much fun to have a convertible on a day like today! I looked to see his license plate, which had a vanity message: "Mahvet."

God, how weird! Mahvet, mahvet. Oy! "Mahvet" is the word in Hebrew for death. The angel of death has quite a sense of humor. Is this what he really looks like? A guy in a baseball cap, driving a convertible sports car?

I feared that mahvet was, God forbid, a sign of impending doom for my mother, or even me. I was so plagued that I had to post about it.

One of my colleagues and friends responded to the posting, "Are you sure he wasn't just showing off, telling everyone that it was his 'vette? Ugh! "Mah vet[te]! P.S., knock on wood, my mother has recovered and is fine now.

That's the comedy of errors I want to recall as I worry about my two friends' recent losses of their mothers. I don't want to look for signs and worry about my own mother's health, or Pat's mother's, but I do worry about both, as Pat and I get ready to be out of the country for the next six months, in India on business.

It's the biggest anxiety I have -- the potential for either of our mothers, God forbid, to become ill while we're away. In considering whether or not to accept the assignment, that figured in hugely, along with fearing that Pat and I will perhaps inadvertently disrespect Indian culture and get in trouble for it.

Our mothers, both, were enthusiastic when we told them about the opportunity to go to India. God bless them. There was no guilt pored on and I just pray that both of them will be healthily here when we return.

The mother-robin is feeding her babies again. Sitting at the window, they're just above eye-level, in the broad-leaved maple tree in our front yard.

How will she feel when they leave the nest? How will they feel without her corporeal nurturing?