I first published Lucy’s editorial in 2012. I hadn’t realized it was so long ago. I want to print it again—the changes she described in 1993 are becoming all too real. I miss those days and cherish all the memories.
Love and best wishes to all who are with us and those who are separated by time or distance. Merry Christmas.
. . . of the women about whom I want to write in this Year of the Woman is someone who for thirty years had been part of our occasional conversations. We knew her name, not where she was or how she had turned out.
Her father had been one of Ernie’s students, a brilliant scholar. His was a kind of quirky brilliance, as evidenced by his ability to learn and recite pages of Demosthenes, or to recite by heart the majority of the text of the movie “Reap the Wild Wind.” But there were parts of everyday life which seemed beyond him. He delighted in a second and non-judgemental family which he found in us and he was frequently in our house for a visit and for dinner. The children got to know him well. He received his B.A. and M.A. in Classics while Ernie was chair and his father invited us to a celebration dinner to mark the awarding of the second degree. At that point he wanted, and indeed his brilliance as a scholar demanded, a place in a Ph.D. program. He started working to that end at an Eastern university, but the abrupt introduction to a new culture and a more independent way of life was not easy for him. In addition, his mother died and the introduction of a step-mother was difficult for him. He returned to Detroit and to a couple of menial jobs while exploring other facets of his life. He was the adopted son of a Jewish dentist, but he found himself attracted to a small community of somewhat unorthodox Catholics, who gave him the warm acceptance he needed. He taught at their school and in time we heard the name “Linda”. After a while he and Linda were married; we attended the wedding in their community and shared in their happiness. After this we were no longer in regular contact and we felt that he was in a good situation. Eventually we learned that he and Linda had a daughter (an unexpected joy for them since they had been assured that the MS Linda had been diagnosed with made her unable to conceive.) The daughter was named Emma. Within three years of her birth we learned her father had died from a heart attack.
We did not know how to get in touch with mother and daughter and hoped continually that all was well with them. Last New Year's Eve their names came up once again and Lucy whipped out her computer and did what we should have thought to do earlier, scoured Facebook. It did not take long to find Emma and Lucy was off and running with finding out the mystery of Emma’s past.
After her father’s death, her mother’s MS reached the point where she could no longer work, and thanks to the help of the community and a member who drove them west, they settled in Northern Idaho, where Linda had heard of a group of Dominican nuns from France who gave Emma a superb education. After she graduated, Emma began studying at a Community College, but she came to the conclusion that the best way to complete a degree and to care for her mother was to join the Military. She joined the Marines and their initial assessment indicated that she had a bent for languages. (No surprise that.) So Emma went to the Defense Language Institute in Monterey California and studied Chinese.
This Fall we attended the funerals of two more friends, whose company we had enjoyed for over four decades. Their services were packed, and many of the same people attended both, since we had all been in the same circle since the 60’s.
When we arrived in Detroit in 1966, we knew no-one and had only been married for a couple of months, so neither of us had more than a nodding acquaintance with cooking, mending, fixing or any of the practical aspects of life not found within the covers of a Greek or Latin text. And almost before we could unpack our meagre belongings, we knew we soon would be facing the challenges of parenthood. Enter Fr. Ruedeseli, who welcomed us to our parish and introduced us to a group which he oversaw. It was called The Christian Family movement, a title which about says it all. Couples met in groups of about ten or twelve at each other’s homes. I think we met about every two weeks. I remember a guide book which set up suggestions for our meetings (not always adhered to as closely as the authors would have advocated), together with a prayer component and a discussion of our reading material. I think snacks were involved, I’m certain wine was. We usually set a concrete service goal for the next meeting and then the group got on with what I think was the main purpose of the whole movement. We just talked. The groups were cunningly set up so that neophytes like us met with experienced older couples and learned what real life was all about.
That is how we met Leona and Beverly. They both had immigrant backgrounds: Bev’s family was Lebanese, Lee’s was Polish. They did not have the ambitions or influence of the last two women I wrote about, but these two embellished the derogatory phrase "Kinder, Küche, Kirche” and made it something to be truly proud of, in an era when former values were becoming up-ended. Bev and her husband Don had eight children, Lee and Joe were the parents of ten, a goodly number of whom became our children’s babysitters. They, and the other members of our groups, were on hand to help when we moved, they were at our front door with dinners when I came home from the hospital after our children were born.
The next two women I want to celebrate died this past summer, united not only by longevity but by the pioneering spirit which pervaded their lives. I had not known one of them long, but the other had been an honorary member of our family for four decades.
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| Ernie and Betty often shared their experiences teaching Latin |
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| Andrew, our friends Jerry and Sally, Lynne and Garth |
