Distant and Closer

We didn’t actually take the 25th anniversary of the September 11th tragedy into account when we made our vacation plans, but I’m very glad to be away from the US and mostly offline today. I cannot forget the tragedy seared into my very being as a New Yorker a quarter century ago, and don’t need the almost fetishized reminders. I’d much rather commemorate Leah Adezio’s birth date, as I miss my late best friend every day. But today, with the distance afforded by being in the UK, it was easier to feel the joy that comes with family, especially the youngest generation. Today we visited Robin’s sister Carol and brother-in-law Graham, and the branch of the family of which she’s the matriarch. Just about 80% of the fam showed up at Sandra and Robert’s home, including Tracy and Graham, Georgina and Keri with their young ones Freddie, Rosa and Elowyn, Matthew and fiancé Kristin, and Naomi and little baby Elsie. I made repeated eye contact with 9-month-old Rosa and even got to hold her a bunch of times without her crying, and Rob drew pictures for Freddie and Elowyn (two extremely precocious, talkative, and exhausting kids) and a couple of the adults as well. I’ve already volunteered our babysitting services after we move here. It’ll be so wonderful to have kids around! We had a lovely time, and Robert even drove us back to the hotel to save wear and tear on my poor feet and legs. I could use a few quiet, non-mobile days now!

Too Cold to Feel

So exhausted today. Too much tiredness and cold to want to go anywhere, so we opted to shop tomorrow and spend today in quiet contemplation of Mom's remarkable life. That and shivering under covers, in my case. We're both definitely under the weather. I hope it eases soon!

2026 Has To Be Better

White Rabbits (or Rabbis) and Happy New Year. This was a very long day, both physically and emotionally. As an atheist I wasn't sure how I'd feel about things like shiva. Saying the prayer for the dead isn't about how much you miss them and honor their memory but mostly about how great the invisible sky fairy is, but I felt I had to Keep Peace and Honor Mom yesterday (and everyone at the gravesite was looking at me and my brothers expectantly). I was hoping to be spared the same pretense today and thus declined the prayer book my brother held out for me, and unfortunately that set him off something awful. I believe the phrase "get the eff out of my house" was uttered. However, my Cal-bro made me realize there are times and places to assert personal boundaries and the mourning period for Mom was probably not one of those. So I held the book and kept silent, reflecting on how much I'm going to miss Mom and how she will always be a part of me, and I even held my tongue when the rabbi asked for folks' reminiscences because I'd already said all I'd wanted to say. And afterwards I apologized to my youngest bro for the slight and we hugged it out. But everything seemed tense. Thank goodness visiting relatives helped break that tension, as did a couple of wonderful meals with my Cal-bro and sis-in-law, who couldn't deal with the cold. I mean, we couldn't even deal with the cold, I can't imagine how much worse it was for them! We stayed at the same hotel as they did this evening because I knew the emotional and physical exertion would leave me in no shape to drive home in the dark, something I have trouble doing now at the best of times. I trust we don't pick up any number of diseases from hugging folks, many of whom have probably been ill lately. Let's hope shiva doesn't turn out to be a super-spreader.

Mommy and Me

My mother passed away in the early hours this morning. She had a good run, 94 years, although the last year or so saw her gradually waste away day by day as she lost her appetite completely, then her interest in most things. But that's not what I'll remember most.

Memory is a funny thing, especially for someone who feels like they've been gaslit at various times in their life. I don't entirely trust my own memories, and I've had to deal with my sometimes-misplaced episodic memory as well. So I choose to remember things that I believe ring true and provide me with the most emotional impact. That said, my two earliest memories are (1) a few seconds when I was a baby in my crib, crying, and Mom came in and picked me up to comfort me, and (2) when I was about 4 years old and had an earache, my mom holding my hand as we walked under the elevated subway in the Bronx en route to the doctor's office. The overriding feeling I have from both memories is one of comfort, safety, and security.

My mom was a self-professed "educational snob" and an avid reader who loved word games. She taught us Scrabble, loved watching Jeopardy with my late aunt until Alex Trebek passed, and I played Words With Friends with her until about a year ago. I certainly got my love of reading from her, but knowledge is a double-edged sword, as the more I read (and grew) the more I questioned. And many of the answers were not in keeping with her core beliefs, mostly religion-based. But we reached a detente by the time I was an adult (even though to an extent she and my dad treated me like a teenager until the end of their days) and the love we had for one another was never in question.

In some ways Mom's life, especially towards the end, also served as a cautionary tale, making me more keenly aware of my own fragility and health issues. I long since gave up FOMO for FOBO (Fear of Being Overwhelmed) and no longer wish to Go Out to many places other than the office in Manhattan, in large measure due to mobility issues. When I sense something is amiss I have doctors with whom I honestly discuss my situation, all kinds of braces and walking sticks to help me get around, and I don't kid myself as much as I used to about what I'm capable of doing. I sometimes wish I had a larger in-person social circle the way I did when I was younger (and before COVID increased the risk of being in crowds), but my online circle and work colleagues make up for that in large measure and, after all, I'm married to my best friend who complements me perfectly (and is, for the record, not allowed to predecease me).

My dad's death 18 years ago was sudden, the result of an auto accident on the other side of the country where I could not reach, and thus I never felt like I had any closure with him. My mom's situation was almost the opposite, she faded gradually and there was plenty of time to say all that needed to be said. Nonetheless, now that both my parents are gone I feel like the two pillars on which I was standing have crumbled, which is ironic considering I also feel like I've reached Peak Competence in my life, and can adult pretty well. There's a Jewish saying "may their memory be a blessing," and as an atheist I'm comforted by knowing that they're both together now, in my heart and in my head and in the things I choose to remember. 

I began writing in part as a way to try and better communicate with my parents, neither of whom had the same frames of reference as me (although they were proud of my accomplishments), so in that respect I never quite succeeded, but my writing has continued to this day and I think I've held my own with my other social circles, and with whatever readers of this blog remain. After I retire (the plan is still June of 2028) I may switch to writing full-time, but there are a lot of things I "may" do now that I'm unmoored. For now I'll just concentrate on healing, one day at a time.

 

Twenty-Four Years On

How long before tragedy fades into obscurity? Does anyone still remember the Maine? Does 7 December continue to live on as a day of infamy? How many young adults weren't even born 24 years ago, when the memories of the day's events were seared into the minds of so many of us New Yorkers? With each passing year we face more adversity, and sometimes more healing. Does the current ongoing systematic dismantling of our democracy trump our ability to reflect on the deaths that happened a quarter century ago, especially considering there have been 2000+ mass shootings since then resulting in far greater loss of life? I have no answers, just assurance that, as a New Yorker working in a Manhattan financial services firm, the day still hits closer to home than I'd like, particularly with the mass shooting in my office's HQ a few short weeks ago. Memory is always a funny thing (my personal memory doubly so), so at this point many of us who were there rely more on our gut reactions than actual remembrances. I just wish people would stop enjoining me to never forget, as it's fairly impossible for me to do so.

Eighteen Years Gone

It's a weirdly melancholy couple of days. On this day in 2007 my dad left us, the victim of a car accident compounded by blood thinners. My mom is still alive, and tomorrow is her 94th birthday. So I'm grateful to have made it to those nebulous post-retirement years (not having yet retired) with at least one parent still around. Today was a quiet day, gearing up to visit Mom tomorrow. In the meantime, a silly site that might have appealed to Dad:

 Via BoingBoing.

Twenty? Try TWO HUNDRED.

Can we stop with the fetishizing now? Please? I was working in Manhattan 20 years ago, it will remain seared into my brain for the rest of my life, I don't need all this salivating over reminding me. It only serves to punch up the jingoism at the expense of what really mattered at Ground Zero immediately after the tragedy. And this year of all years? Give me a break. More than 3000 people, most of them my fellow New Yorkers, lost their lives that day. More than TWO HUNDRED TIMES that number of my fellow Americans have lost their lives in the last year and a half. I'm sure we'll be debating for eons to come whether this tragedy as preventable as that one, but I'm just fatigued by it all, and trying not to fall into despair among the remembrances. I really wish my best friend Leah (whose birthday this would have been) were still here with me...

Remembering

On this day I remember along with the nation:



And I remember personally; I still miss you so, so much, Leah.

What I Said Two Years Ago

Here.

Breaking the Glass

It's traditional at Jewish weddings, as we were reminded again a couple weeks back, for a cloth-wrapped glass to be placed by the couple's feet then smashed right at the end of the ceremony. This is symbolic of the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem a couple millennia back, and to remind the assembled that even in our moments of utmost joy we still need to remember that life brings sadness and sorrow, and it's hoped that the couple's new life can weather them both. Today was a glass-full day for me. We traveled to my friend and former supervisor Kim's house in Long Island to look at her two gorgeous cats, to whom she needs to bid a tearful goodbye as their presence is negatively affecting her husband's health, and we wanted to see if they'd accept us before committing to adopt them. It seems to be a perfect match so far, and I'm thrilled beyond belief that we're going to be "cat parents" again! Not only that, but Kim's husband (who currently works for a car service) will be picking up Robin's friends at the airport (and returning them a few days later) so I no longer have to worry about navigating the JFK-area in the dark! In the midst of all that joy, it was hard for me to think about how much I miss Leah (who would have been, I think, 55 today) and how much I miss what America was before the Twin Towers fell 15 years ago, back before sadness turned to vengeance and hate and suspicion and jingoism. I know I can't go backwards and hug my best friend any more or navigate lower Manhattan by the WTC, but whilst our memories can time-travel backwards our bodies only go the other way. So I will reserve my open arms for Robin's three college buddies in about a month and a half, then for two beautiful felines a week or so after that, and be grateful for every moment of joy tempered by broken glass.

Silly Site o' the Day

Since last Monday was the 110th anniversary of the San Francisco earthquake, I thought I'd run these then-and-now composite photos.

Fred Riggs RIP

Pen-Elayne has lost another loyal reader. My father-in-law has passed away at the age of 92. Dad lived a long and fulfilling life, and his passing was not unexpected, but it still hurts like heck. I'm so, so glad that Robin and I got to celebrate his 90th birthday with him in September 2013. It was a lovely long visit, and now the Green and Pleasant Land will never be the same. So long Dad - say hi to Mum for us.

Have I mentioned how much January sucks?

Silly Site o' the Day

One by one, the cultural touchstones of my life fall by the wayside. Now it's David Bowie, who always seemed a bit too ethereal for this plane of existence anyway. I wonder if he ever had a pop sonnet (via BoingBoing)...

Remembrance Day, NOT Patriot Day

They have their false word for it, I have my true word.



On this day I also remember Leah, whom I still miss dearly. Today is the anniversary of her birth.

Silly Site o' the Day

Damn. Not feeling all that silly. We've lost another one. The Firesign Theatre's Phil Austin, Nick Danger hisself, has come out of the fog and gone into the smog. The few times I met Phil A he was always very nice and gentlemanly, with a terrific smile. And he and Oona loved their doggies, boy howdy. He'd probably think this dog who responds to a bad Liverpudlian accent is adorable.



I know I do. Via BoingBoing. Hasta la vista, Phil.

My Beautiful Aunt

Outside of my parents, my aunt (Mom's sister) Kenie Mittleman was probably my greatest role model throughout my entire life, for as long as I can remember. She was glamorous, witty, kind, generous, soft-spoken, smart, quietly spiritual, and had a very "live and let live" way about her. She even worked as an executive secretary, which I'm sure was one of the reasons I chose a career as an admin assistant. I loved going to her and Uncle Max's house in Nyack as a kid (and even after). It felt cozy and homey and I remember curling up on one of their chairs reading my cousins' books and being so, so happy and warm. For some reason I always associate these visits with autumn; I know we saw them during the rest of the year, but I can't think of my favorite season (or even travel over the Tappan Zee bridge) without recalling these wonderful times in my "ancestral spawning grounds."

Aunt Kenie exuded warmth, and always had good advice for me. She never pushed me to listen to it, it was just there, very matter-of-fact, very sensible. She last imparted her wisdom to me a few days ago during our frequent Wednesday evening phone calls. I'm so grateful we spoke then, as the event that led to her leaving us took place the following day. Nothing was left unsaid, the circle was closed, it was all wrapped up neatly the way I'm sure she would have wanted.

I never heard an unkind word said about Aunt Kenie, or from her. She always saw and spoke of the best in people. Her smile, her whole being, was radiant. Even in the last few years, after Uncle Max passed and her sight grew dim and she struggled against cancer, she remained cheerful and optimistic. "Every day is a gift," she said. And it was. May the gift that was Kenie keep on giving for generations to come. RIP, my beautiful aunt.

We Will Remember Them...

So as is my wont on this day, I played Mark Knopfler's "Remembrance Day", followed by Renaissance's "Remember", on my iPhone this morning. Then Steeleye Span's "Where Are They Now" came on unbidden, and considering how I feel about war and the incessant glorification thereof in this country, it felt much more appropriate to the day. Peace will always be far more courageous to me than war. Here are the lyrics:

Man said Nature was his mother
Made a promise at his birth
But she's running like a hunted fox for cover
All across the Earth

The forest turned into the tall ships,
And though they fought for England well
The emptiness is ringing down the ages
Like a hollow bell

[Chorus:]
Where are they now?
Old mysteries
The high ideas of thousand years
All lost on the breeze
Where are they now?

Asking wonders of our children
Blind faith in all the rules
But the blind lead the blind from the cradle
Through the faith of fools

One son gone unto the merchant
Another to the bishop went
Another son to serve the king
And country in some regiment

[Chorus]

Every year in late December
Hark the Herald Angels sing
In the church words of Peace on Earth are spoken
It doesn't change a thing
[Chorus]

As far as I'm concerned, all this war-worship is the faith of fools.

Silly Site o' the Day

Yes yes, we all know what happened 13 years ago but I don't want to dwell on either morbidity nor faux patriotism. I'd rather use this day to remember Leah, whose birthday it would have been today, and who was the inspiration for these Silly Sites (she called 'em "Links o' Silliness"). In Leah's memory I post this site that she would have liked, io9's posting of the Female Armor Bingo Card. Miss you, my friend!

Silly Site o' the Day

Today would have been Dad's birthday, so in his memory I'm passing along a pretty cool site called Generations, photos featuring 4-5 generations of the same family. Via Laughing Squid, but the link to their referral seems to have disappeared.

RIP Mr. Brilliant

My heart and thoughts are with Jill.