The Last, But Not the Least . . .
. . . 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.
I wrote to her before her deployment date and wished her well. In reply she wrote, “I will stay safe; I’m a good shot, and trust god won’t let anything happen to me when my mom has no one but me to take care of her. She is being so supportive of me, knowing that I want to do my little part in the fight against ISIS.”
We pray for her daily and as I was writing this, I realized the extent to which I was writing not about one brave woman, but about two, who together had overcome almost insurmountable obstacles to help and support each other and achieve a better life.
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