It is December 31, 1968, and I am a sophomore in college. I have nothing particular to do on New Year's eve. My parents are going out, and need a babysitter for my 10 year old brother. My roommate Vickie comes over, and she and I and my kid brother Jeff have an impromptu party. Jeff plays the cello for us, he has been taking cello lessons. It turns out to be a surprisingly fun way to see in the new year.
Flashforward:
It is almost any New Year's even in the 1980's, and we are celebrating with our friends Bonnie and David. Bonnie and I have been friends since we were 14. Some years we see each other more than others, but we almost always get together on New Year's eve. Sometimes she cooks, sometimes I do, sometimes we both spring for babysitters and go out for dinner. But we always come back to one of our homes or the other for "coffee and..." and to have a glass of champagne as we turn on the TV to watch the ball drop at Times Square at midgnight.
Flashforward:
It is December 2009, a few days before New Years, and I get the urge to call Vicky, whom I haven't spoken to for over 10 years. I find her listed in the telephone book, and I call. She is, of course, surprised to hear from me, but states that her brother is there and they are about to go to the festival of trees at the Wadsworth Anthaeneum in Hartford. I tell her I will call her back, but I haven't yet.
I get another call around that time from Bonnie. We had made plans for New Year's Eve dinner at a restaurant. Because David's mother had just died, however, we decided to skip the champagne and dessert part of the evening. Now Bonnie is letting me know that her father is dying. He dies just before New Year's eve, and we spend New Year's eve afternoon and early evening at his funeral.
I had invited a friend for Shabbat dinner on New Year's day, but I was exhausted, and didn't enjoy myself as much as I had hoped to. My exhaustion was due not only to the funeral, but to the busy week we had had. The week started with Christmas Eve at my Sister-in-law's, then hosting my son Marc and his family overnight. We then babysat for his children, so Marc and his wife Cheryl could get away for a night. They returned before lunch on Saturday, so we could all have a family portrait taken along with my daughter Rachel and her husband Jon and their twin babies. This was my idea, because I wanted to record this moment in time when everyone was happy for a 60th birthday present to myself. Before Marc and his family left on Sunday, we went to my sister's for a belated family Chanukah party, because the party originally scheduled during Chanukah had been cancelled due to in impending snow storm.
Marc was back for dinner on Tuesday to drop off Hannah, his almost 6 year old daughter. We had invited Hannah to come to New York to see Mary Poppins on Broadway as her Chanukah present. Seeing the play with Hannah was wonderful, we all enjoyed the day immensely. But Hannah had been so excited that she woke up and got dressed at 4:30 am, and New York was crowded, so we were all tired by the end of the day.
The next day, John drove as we brought Hannah safely back home, stopping for breakfast on the way. Hannah was relieved that after a good night's sleep, John and I had overcome our crankiness and were back to normal. At breakfast, she reviewed the pictures of the actors on the Mary Poppins program, carefully marking them with the initials of the character each played, which she sounded out for herself. She was anxious to share this with her Mom. For a souvenir, she had bought a snow globe music box, her first, also to help her share the experience with her Mom. I was delighted that she had chosen this, and hoped that she would always keep it to remember our special day together. We dropped her off with her souvenirs, all smiles as she usually was. Then John drove us straight to the funeral, with only a brief stop for lunch.
Although I was not well acquainted with Bonnie's father, I felt as if I knew him from hearing her speak of him all of these years, and I cried throughout the funeral service. After the internment, a Shivah service was held at a small synagogue in Wethersfield, followed by the funeral meal. I was glad we attended because, although there had been a good number of Jewish friends at the service, by evening, most of the remaining people in attendance were not Jewish, and we were needed to make a minion. I was also glad I attended because most of those that stayed for the meal were friends of Bonnie's brother, and I wanted to be there for Bonnie.
Bonnie is my oldest "continuous" friend. I say "continuous" because I have reconnected with another friend from high school, but I had been out of touch with that other friend for about 15 years at one point. I feel bad for Bonnie and David, because when our last parent died (John's mother had died about 18 months earlier), we had two grandchildren, and Rachel was married and hoping to be able to have children soon. Neither of Bonnie's two children are married yet, and I thought it must be hard to officially become the older generation when there is not yet a third generation, nor one on the horizon.
After resting thoroughly on Saturday and Sunday, I was feeling pretty cheerful, and I had had an epiphany. I decided to give in to my illness, and to take it easier. If would no longer make the effort to keep up with John, but would send him off to work and to his book club and Torah study, Bar association meetings, and study groups more graciously. I would let him live as a healthy person, and I would live as a sick person. It was a relief to realize that it would be okay to lay down the effort of trying to live more normally. I am still a happy person, and I have realized that there are a lot of quiet activities that I can enjoy. Watching old movies, reflecting on life, finding and cooking new recipes that I can prepare in the morning before I am too tired, reading, babysitting the twins early in the day, visits with friends and family, and attending book and discussion groups that meet in the morning. Among the attendees of these groups are others who are tired, due to age or circumstance, and I can enjoy their company.
That evening, I received a call from yet another old friend with whom I had recently reconnected. She was part of our Junior Year in France group, but had missed our 40th year reunion due to illness. She is extremely ill with cancer that has metasticized to her liver, and has been in a nursing home for over a year. Her children are young (16, 18, and 20), and her marriage is not strong. John and I started visiting occasionally, and had given a luncheon at our home in her honor for local JYA alumni, to cheer her a little. Last night she called with fear in her voice. Today would be the test to see if her tumors were shrinking or at least stable, her youngest child was in the emergency room as we spoke with fever and severe neck pain, and her elderly Mother had fallen the day before. Although the problems of my illness seem small compared to hers, I have been able to bond with sick people since my illness. I felt good that she felt comfortable enough to call me to share her problems. Although we had been out of touch for 40 years, we now relate in a number of ways, such as our shared love of classic movies, and I now genuinely care about what is happening to her.
It has been a bitter sweet New Year, but it has left me feeling calm and happy. I myself am not even sure why. Perhaps it is because this New Year has brought with it the gift of acceptance. I can accept my age and my illness. I can accept that death comes to all, but that only premature death is a tragedy. I can accept laying down the struggle, with the realization that I have had my turn, and I must not interfere with the people in my life who are now living fully to the best of their ability, whether my age or younger. I can accept that for me, life is still beautiful, if a little slower. As I enter 2010, I rejoice in these blessings.
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