Saying Goodbye

Every goodbye begins with hello.

Our hello came at a newspaper conference in 1985. A new manager at 24 years young, I trembled as I entered the meeting room full of strangers. There were several reasons why I sat next to Laura that day. Maybe it was her striking resemblance to Meryl Streep. Perhaps it was her gigantic inviting smile. Or maybe it was fate. But more likely it was because she spotted me sweating nervously as I hugged my notebook and called out "Come sit here next to me!" as if we had been forever friends. And from that day on we were.

Living in different states, we saw each other rarely. But our friendship did not suffer as we built a strong bridge of letters, phone calls and emails to span the distance. Ten years older, Laura was like a big sister to me, offering encouragement and support, and ending every communication with a heartfelt "love you". Laura had a smile with the power to transform everyone around her. It was the physical embodiment of her inner strength- formidable and unbreakable, even when presented with the unspeakable diagnosis of terminal cancer. She announced the news just once, then promptly gave the disease the cold shoulder, refusing to give it more energy than she thought it deserved. Fifteen years ago she was given less than five years to live and live them she did.

She met and married the love of her life. She traveled to her beloved Ireland and was inspired to create Laura’s Irish Cottage in Connecticut. She adopted a puppy, who she outlived, then adopted another. Her doctor’s optimistic estimate of five years soon stretched to 10 years, and with the word ‘cancer’ passing her lips so rarely I almost forgot she was sick. She planted a tree and watched it grow. She planted a perennial garden and waited anxiously for the next year’s blossoms. She made plans for days, weeks and even years ahead not because she refused to believe she was dying, but because she preferred to believe she would live.

Despite her brave front, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the elephant in the room that was her disease. When she was too weak to climb the stairs in her home, they installed a chair lift which she joked was used to transport her aging dog with arthritis. On another visit I noticed a wheelchair ramp, which she said was installed to make it easier for her to transport her groceries into the house. And during one visit when she sported a wig for the first time, she apologized for being too lazy to do her hair, and laughed a hearty laugh when her husband walked into the room and asked her if that was a cat sitting on her head. She loved to talk about anything and everything, as long as it had nothing to do with cancer. When asked how she felt, she’d say "God is keeping me around for a reason. He’ll let me know when its time." Her faith and optimism were contagious. Perhaps too much so, as my visits became less frequent as I too came to believe Laura would outlive all of us.

A few weeks ago, I sent an email to make plans to visit in June, not realizing she was planning her own funeral at the same time. In defiant optimism, Laura ordered a summer nightgown from the Land’s End website "just in case".

Laura passed away on April 24, fifteen years after being told she "might" have five years to live. And live she did- every minute, every hour, every day. And there is no better tribute I can pay to my friend than to try to do the same.

Beyond Driving School

The words Student Driver were painted on all sides of the vehicle, along with a giant sign on top just in case you missed it; acting like a warning label about what was inside. As the young adult carefully showed off his parallel parking skills, I recalled the sort of things we needed to memorize to get that coveted piece of paper known as a learner’s permit. This included essential knowledge about what constitutes a "thickly settled area" – which is more than just our midsection after Thanksgiving dinner. I’ve driven for 35 years now, and have never once said "darn, what is a thickly settled area again?" But I have gained enough driving wisdom to offer a few addendums to common rules of the road for the newbies out there.

NEVER DRIVE DISTRACTED. But assume that everyone else does. With vehicles full of gadgets- from cell phones to ipods, satellite radio to GPS systems, DVD players to TV sets- it is often the actual driving that becomes the distraction, with the rules of the road threatening to ruin their multi-media auto entertainment experience.

ALWAYS STOP FOR PEDESTRIANS IN THE CROSSWALK. That is, if they use the crosswalk. Many pedestrians shun the safe haven of road crossings altogether, and instead launch sneak attacks from in between parked cars. Others prefer the ‘what are you going to do about it’ approach and jaywalk as they stare you down and hold up their hand in a STOP signal forcing you to slam on your brakes so hard everything not tied down lands on the floor. Including your heart.

GREEN MEANS GO. Green actually means wait for drivers who consider yellow to be the new green as they floor it to beat the red light. In their unrelenting effort to not let anyone cut in front of them, they will come to a dead stop blocking the intersection. Thus securing their place as next in line, and leaving you basking in the glow of the green light as if reflects off their rear panel while you sit through another light cycle.

UNLESS POSTED OTHERWISE, RIGHT ON RED IS ALLOWED AFTER A FULL STOP WHEN TRAFFIC IS CLEAR. Right on red is also the new green. New Englanders are always in a hurry to go nowhere and will turn right on red whenever they darn well feel like it. And if you do not defer to the impatient right on red-ers, you will get a bonus vocabulary lesson which reads something like George Carlin’s Seven Dirty Words skit.

FOLLOW THE POSTED SPEED LIMIT. And in doing so, be prepared for the wrath of harried and hurried drivers who will subject you to angry tailgating, beeping and assorted hand signals as they blow by you- hopefully right into a speed trap.

USE YOUR DIRECTIONALS TO INDICATE A TURN. This assumes most drivers actually know where they are going. More likely, they will get caught up in their multi media auto experience and swerve dramatically without warning as they break out of their trance long enough to realize they are about to miss their turn. While others will use their blinkers merely as a suggestion of what they ‘might’ do, reserving the right to boot it and go straight as you try to pass them.

I’ve driven over a million miles since I got my license, and learned at least as many lessons along the way. But the hardest driving lesson of all is that our lives and well being are not just in our hands, but in the hands of the strangers we share the roads with. Which is why your parents will wait and watch until you safely pull into the driveway before they can breath again. Because it’s not just your driving they are worried about, its everyone else’s as well.

So drive safe, drive smart and most importantly- drive alert.

Or better yet, leave the car at home and take up running instead.

My Last Column

All good things must come to an end, including this column. I’ve enjoyed sharing memories with you over the last year, and dedicate this last article to my Nana Stella.

Her story is one shared by many Salem families, whose roots were planted here thanks to a brave choice by prior generations to come to America for a better life. My grandmother was the chosen one in her family, sent here by boat as a young teen, never to see her family in Poland again. On that journey, she met her husband, and they bonded over a combination of seasickness and homesickness.

Growing up at Nana’s house, we learned that life was about working hard and providing for your family. She did not show love by showering you with hugs and kisses, or tickling you until you cried "Uncle". She said, "I love you" with her cooking, and we’d say "I love you too" by asking for seconds. Nana could whip up a meal out of a chicken neck and a piece of salt pork, so good you’d ask for more. She could scale, de-bone and fry up a piece of flounder fresh from Salem Harbor so fast it would barely stop flipping around long enough to eat, and so good you’d run out and try to catch some more.

Fluent in Polish, she spoke only English at home so she could learn the language. The exception was Polish Mass, which I dutifully attended with her Saturday afternoons. I can still feel the rib poke she’d give me as I nodded off to the lullaby of indecipherable Polish prayers. Later that night, we’d watch the Lawrence Welk Variety Show under the guise that my Nana was babysitting me, when I knew it was really the other way around.

A proud and independent woman, her life changed the day she was mugged walking home alone from downtown Salem. Not only did they take her change purse; they took her quality of life when they roughed her up as she fought to keep her pocketbook- and her dignity- before they knocked her down to the ground. Back then, doctors made house calls, and I remember him somberly walking to her bedroom with his black medical bag, and hearing guarded whispers about her condition through the closed door.

Despite her life of toil and tribulation, or perhaps because of it, there was one thing my Nana did enjoy- a good trick. She would always pick the "trick" when she had a choice of "trick or treat" and loved April Fools Day. She would devise the lamest, most obvious tricks imaginable- like putting flour in our shoes or telling us there was a spot on our shirt- and howl with laughter when we pretended to fall for it. But later in life when she was in a nursing home and the days ran together in a thread of monotony, she lost track of what the date was. Which made it even easier to pull a fast one on her when April Fool’s Day would roll around.

I remember the last April Fool’s Day trick I played on her. I called to say I couldn’t visit because her favorite coffee shop had burnt down and the roads were blocked by fire engines. Not very funny, but it was all I could come up with at the time. She was worried about the fire, sad that I couldn’t visit, and disappointed about her coffee- until I walked in a few minutes later, coffee in hand, and said "April Fools!" She hesitated for a minute, and then her chest began to heave silently. I thought for a moment that she was crying, but then realized she was laughing so hard she wasn’t making a sound. Perhaps she was laughing because it was funny, but more likely she was laughing just because she was thankful to have something to laugh about. "You think you funny" she finally whispered to me. And I agreed, I did.

My Nana died in July of 1991 at the age of 98, but I think of her every April Fools Day when I play this trick on my co-workers. The morning of April 1st, I send a note alerting them about some type of disaster that will surely ruin their day, instructing them to go the bottom of the message and/or open the attachment for more details, which of course says APRIL FOOLS. And every year the joke is on me when I realize that no one in the office reads my messages to the end, and they all go into instant panic mode, which spreads like wildfire until I’m laughing so hard I really do start to cry. Partly beause its that funny; partly because no one reads my memos.

So this year I couldn’t miss an opportunity to honor my Nana by reaching out to as many people as possible, and find out how many of you really do read my articles to the end. And if you made it this far, you probably figured out this is not my last column, but it is April Fool’s Day.