A Tuesday Afternoon In the Summer of 1968 Revisited

What love has given to us, no one can take away.

(paraphrased lyrics from Bob Dylan)

My angry mother loved the stars when she was alive / The sun is but a morning star

The light which puts out our eyes is darkness to us.  Only that day dawns to which we are awake.  There is more day to dawn.  The sun is but a morning star.
(Henry David Thoreau)

Today 24 years have passed since my mother's sudden and unexpected death from a massive heart attack when she was 78 years old.  When I woke up and walked out to my porch to look into the darkness in hopes of seeing stars, I looked out on a thick fog.  I don't mind when I wake up to fog because it tends to lift after dawn and precede an extraordinarily beautiful clear day.  Of course I thought of robin andrea when I saw that there were crepuscular rays above the morning star as the fog lifted.

Early in the last year of her life, my mother said with great weariness, "I am so tired of being angry."

My relationship with my mother was difficult, more so in the last years of her life.  My angry mother loved books, stars, art, writing, knitting, cooking, cheesecake, pistachios nuts, Chocolate Kisses, Mogen David wine, horses, lambs, sailing, Groucho Marx, Danny Kaye, Judaism, birds, watching figure skating, the sound of bagpipes, living by the ocean, stained glass, documentaries, Joan Baez (only after Joan became a mother), Carl Jung, and Bob Dylan's song "Ring Them Bells."

Today I am sharing an early morning photo and "Ring Them Bells" in honor of my no-longer-angry mother who loved stars, among other things.  This version by Mary Black and Joan Baez was recorded in the year after my mother died.  I think she would have liked this version.  I sense that my mother's anger and rage died with her.  It was only after my mother died that I was able to consciously experience my own anger and rage.  Mine must be a different kind of anger and rage because I am not exhausted by it.  Its power can be channeled in non-destructive directions.  Perhaps my mother was exhausted from feeling guilty for feeling angry.  I will never know.

I immediately thought of you, Sabine and R, when I came across the Bodhran Boys just now

A few days ago, I took a walk up the hill in the early morning to Big Rock Garden, a small beautiful neighborhood park.  It's been awhile since I walked there. A large dolmen was placed there some years ago. I was the only person in the park as I walked the trails among rhododendrons, azaleas, Japanese maples, cedars, one Sierra redwood tree, and a collection of outdoor sculptures.  As I sat down on a bench and looked at the dolmen, I suddenly felt the presence and absence of R on the bench next to me.

I wonder if the day will ever come that I don't feel moved to write about the love I had for a man whose life was taken over by alcoholism and drug addiction before and after his return from Vietnam in December 1970.  Yesterday would have been 50 years of marriage, had my R and I married, but that wasn't meant to be.

His father was Irish.  His mother was German and Swedish.  He had an uncle on his father's side who belonged to Alcoholics Anonymous.  Of his 9 siblings, all but two (his sisters) suffered from alcoholism and drug addiction.  An older brother committed suicide.

In April, it was 10 years since R died of complications of alcoholism, drug abuse, Agent Orange exposure, a brainstem stroke, and cancer that metastasized to his brain.

We were together in Hawaii on this day in July 1970.  I had flown from San Francisco.  He had flown from near the DMZ in Vietnam.

Although we did not live together after May 1971, I continue to reflect on the mystery of his presence and absence in my life and how that shaped who I have become.

"... They spent many happy hours and then the night closed in, and the holy ground took care of everything ...

"... it didn't come true in the end, they went their separate ways.  He couldn't change what he was.  She wasn't ready to wait.



When you see the way Mary Black smiles at the end of the song, know that I am whole and healed.  Although I don't know that he ever saw a bodhran, in my mind's eye I can see my R playing one now with those Irish boys.  I can see that light in his eyes that I have never forgotten.

"... I remember the loving time and nothing else really counts."