Last night Byron texted from an unknown airport and said Oh man. CRUSHING and sudden grief about Mary dying. Tears! Tears!!
I haven’t cried yet, but that might have something to do with the fact that it was an event I have been anticipating my entire life. The hard part isn’t the fact that she died, or how she died, but instead the notion that she isn’t around any longer.
I am horribly sad but continue to make plans, work, cook dinner, stare at my emotions as they flicker on and off.
In my journal I wrote: Mary died. Mary is dead. Which phrase looks more accurate?
I’ve always missed her, the real her, the best and most amazing Mary, my startling and hilarious and beloved aunt. That feeling will never be resolved.
I spent the day wandering in a state of grief, which is interesting since I never used to have appropriate and timely emotions. When the time difference allowed I finally got ahold of my mother, working somewhere in DC.
I asked if I should try to find a flight back and she replied No. There is no reason to come home.
Seven siblings, all gone except my mother. I have no aunts or uncles. How many cousins are left? Hardly any. I grew up in a huge family, now decimated. This is bewildering.
We talked for awhile and then I said I’m sorry.
She said There is nothing to be sorry about.
I replied It all sucks.
My mother said Yeah, it all sucks. She would have been 49 on the 31st of this month. I knew she would never see fifty.
Today I went to the fun fair and nurtured a vague fantasy about becoming a carny – I’ve always wanted to have a proper job!
Plus I did something entirely out of character and astonishing: I rode the bumper cars. First time since my head was smashed up nineteen years ago – and I had so much fun!
Jeffrey wrote to ask if I knew someone who grew up on the peninsula and I replied:
Nobody with that name grew up in my part of the county when I was there! That is a north county / Bainbridge Island name, someone way younger, or made up as an adult…..
Guess what? I was right – the girl in question is ten years younger and from Bainbridge. Funny how names can say so much about a person.
One recent friend was convinced that my name was secretly something normal like Sally Smith. If only! I’ve always wanted to be more ordinary than a Lavender! Nobody in the entire clan has ever professed to like the name.
The conversation turned to an inquiry about how life is treating me lately and I said I’m awesome! Everything is confusing but I have new glasses so hey! No problem!
Jeffrey answered New glasses. New perspective. You are so damn metaphorical!
Unfortunately he is correct. I need to work on that.
I met the always delightful Stevie Ann for lunch in the East Village, during which she teased me in a comprehensive and knowledgeable fashion.
Her observations and questions were, as always, way too insightful. I spent a large part of the meal with my face down on the table, laughing helplessly and only surfacing to inquire Is this how real grown-ups talk??
She replied I’m just prompting because you don’t know how to play!
Over the course of the afternoon we walked around in the sunshine catching up on all of the news and gossip that has accumulated in the five or six months since our last visit, then stopped at a flea market.
My lucky dress had by then nearly died – the back seam featuring a rip of about eight inches – but I found a vintage dress with tags still on. We both bought new outfits, then changed on the sidewalk in front of the Boys Club (yes, my driving need for modesty is erratic and irrational – I am much more likely to be found half naked on a city sidewalk…. than in my own home).
It is a tremendous honor that Stevie asked me to be her date to the reunion, and took me along to her father’s celebratory birthday dinner. I bought her first legal drink, we’ve been on tour together, performed together, remained close across years, great distances, real and brutal trauma.
Stevie is the only friend who has ever spent the night at my aunt’s house, and one of the very few who has extracted an admission of love from my reticent self. I’m so lucky to know her:
I had only a limited amount of time in NY to accomplish a vast number of tasks.
The most critical was of course my annual pilgrimage to Fabulous Fanny’s to acquire not one but two new pairs of spectacles before dashing off to Chinatown, where people are willing to fill outdated and incorrect prescriptions! Nobody else panders to my desire to pretend that my vision is worse than it actually is: I love NYC.
KTS and Alison let me crash in their new place, which is so vast I hardly believed I was still in one of the boroughs. They were talking about installing either a greenhouse or a forest in some of the unused space – I am constitutionally incapable of jealousy (and love my boat) but I definitely felt flickers of envy over the wood floors and extra bathrooms!
At some point KTS commented on his new job, new wife, new home I don’t know why I’m saying this – but – I’m happy with the way things have turned out.
This was quite an admission from the most sarcastic person I’ve ever met; I’m so pleased that we are friends again, and that his life is trundling along in a manner he enjoys.
One afternoon I was wandering near Union Square and stopped at a shoe store, randomly stumbling across KTS purchasing sneakers. I laughed and laughed as he complained that nobody wants him to be their muse.
We retired to a dive bar (because, as I pointed out, we never went out drinking together at 4:30 in our actual youth – oh, to be back at the Brotherhood in 1992!) where drunk working class women kept stroking my hair as they passed on their way to mysterious errands in an absolutely filthy restroom.
In the nineteen years of our acquaintance I’ve always been strictly truthful but there are assorted topics that we’ve never discussed – to the extent I was not even aware of his first attempt at matrimony. He certainly has no idea (still) of who was sleeping with who in the circus of my student life. This means we have lots of interesting new things to talk about even though we’ve known each other forever – a bonus!
Over the course of an entirely too brief visit and a few scattered meals with Alison we chattered away about life, love, and literature. I interrogated Karl about why he has retained certain friendships and he shrugged and said They’re legacies, about history, not the present.
I’m endlessly thankful that he exercises this prerogative – otherwise, would we still know each other? I doubt it, and he is one of my favorite people ever:
Love hears, love knows, love answers across the silent miles and goes. — W.H. Auden
Ten minutes before boarding a flight to NYC I decided to text most of my UK friends to reveal a secret I feel gleeful about. I was quite surprised that most of the people who read the message were shocked and concerned – the story isn’t exactly news, even if my inclination to talk about the subject might be. I reassured everyone of my inherent buoyancy (and the fact that I would never share bad news) then dashed away!
My long-standing policy of ignoring strangers on airplanes was challenged immediately, when I realized that the person next to me was reading through a binder full of what appeared to be lady porn featuring titles like The Shaman and characters named Graywolf.
I was tempted to inquire if she was a fan or an editor but resolutely turned toward the movie screen, where I caught the first bit of Stranger than Fiction before the channel cut out, leaving me without any clue of how the movie ends or what the narrative might have been suggesting. This was unfortunate since I thought the bits I watched quite funny, including the question posed by one character (paraphrasing): Who in their right frame of mind given the choice between pancakes and being alive chooses pancakes?
Hmm. Well, me! Except of course I don’t like pancakes. But swap other temptations in, and you’ve summed up not only my fundamental world view but also the theme of the whole trip.
All of my normal places to stay in NYC fell through but Margaret graciously offered to host me in her studio on the Lower East Side. We met up for an Ethiopian dinner and chattered away about body image and love. At one point she said If you have a hunchback you can just throw a little glitter on it, you know? We all have problems. Everyone has been there.
Over drinks at a hipster bar she told me a long and hilarious tale of going to the desert alone, where she was pursued by strange creatures before laying down in the sand convinced she would die. Then it was back to her haunted bachelorette pad, where I crashed in a deep jetlagged sleep.
In the morning I thanked her fervently for the hospitality and then wandered around the neighborhood a bit, completely amazed by how friendly everyone in the states appears compared to the way people act in England. Beyond that, NYC has always felt comfortable, like a home I want to find, even when the city is at its most challenging.
During the long train ride through working class New Jersey towns I stared out the window, feeling homesick and thinking about the fact that my passport was issued in 2000 and at that point I was so paranoid about travel the experience was almost unbearable.
Now I like the uncertain, in-between moments best of all – a remarkable change in such a short period of time.
I had a couple of free hours before anyone showed up, and settled in the room before venturing out to the boardwalk to admire the ruined buildings:
Several weeks of visitors and interviews had rendered me somewhat unfit for human companionship; my voice was almost entirely gone by the time I found my oldest friend after several years separation. He said It’s nice to see you, Bee.
I replied It’s nice to see you, James, even if I’m dying!
His answer was swift: Well that’s nothing new. I don’t know what you’re complaining about!
We laughed and talked and caught up on sundry issues, and a few hours after meeting he even remembered to ask after the children. One of whom is named after him.
It seemed prudent to scope out how long it would take to get to the wedding venue, and we found that it was only a three minute walk:
Then we wandered around, admiring more of what Asbury Park has on offer:
Later we caught up with the happy couple at Jess’ family home, including a crew of British people. I forced myself to tell the truth about my work; this was difficult but I persevered and quite enjoyed the conversations, particularly with an anesthetist who listened to me laughing, cocked his head, and informed me that I have asthma.
I protested but he commented The fact that you haven’t been diagnosed doesn’t mean you don’t have it. Stop laughing!
After the party seven or eight of us crammed into a taxi meant for four, James wedged across our laps narrating what he saw in the night sky. Does this sound completely out of character for yours truly to put up with? Why yes, yes it does!
We were collectively surprised to learn that our hotel is semi-officially queer and features a gay bar the likes of which it is hard to find outside the confines of small-town America.
Standing around watching a drag show of varying quality we laughed and applauded the good bits and winced over the bad. At one point I commented It fits somewhere in critical theory but nowhere I want to go!
Stephen replied Not with that dress on! and I nearly spit out my drink.
The next day James and I wandered all over town and rested for awhile to prepare for the antics of the evening. I talked to Anna Ruby on the telephone briefly, then Stevie called and left a message that she would be in NY to attend her high school reunion and that I should go with her because The way I see things, you kinda owe me!
What can I say about the wedding? Every last bit of the event was wonderful, in every possible detail, including the posters friends made:
Not to mention the vows, the blessing, the Ketubah, the gathering statement by Stephen including an Auden quote that made me cry.
And, of course, we danced:
The Luminescent Orchestrii played and we all toasted the happy couple, eating food, talking, bowling:
Friends new and old celebrated and had a fantastic time:
A family friend named Pearl offered the toast Nobody worked harder for happiness than Jess.
This is true. I wish both her and Brian every possible wish as they move forward through life.
