Into Eternity

Rose Cohen, my adoptive mother, departed this earth last Thursday at 3:10 pm.
My sister, Sandy, who had been her best friend and loving executor/health care proxy for the last several years, was there, as was her husband and son. I was also at her bedside. I am glad that she was not alone.

Rose Cohen and I did not have a good relationship for many years. There were a lot of reasons for it and most of those don’t matter at this point.

What is important, at least to me, is that we were on good terms at the end of her life. I’m glad for this, I would not have wanted to become a cliche, the person who waited too long to resolve old business.

My sister invited my participation in making last arrangements, and I am grateful to be involved. She is sincerely glad for the help after months of decision-making, negotiations, paperwork and unrelenting attention to the details of end-of-life care, like doing personal laundry, staying in touch with concerned friends and relatives, keeping medical and custodial staff on their toes, even feeding her mother when necessary.

Sandy, her husband Steve, son Mike and I managed yesterday in a 3-hour period to make plans for the visiting hours, memorial observance, casket, flowers, burial and post-funeral buffet luncheon. We were amazed at our productivity, facilitated by an experienced, savvy funeral director and his staff. They took care of the legalities of transport and licensing, the obituary (including the online version which appeared today), the hairdresser and coordination with the cemetery.

Burials are expensive; all told, this one will be almost $9,000. It’s about what we expected, but none of us have that kind of cash, and we figure to settle up later once her house is sold.
At least we were prepared in other ways. The medical staff involved in her case told us last summer that she wouldn’t see the new year, and last week, we were advised that it would be days or even hours.

They weren’t being alarmist; they were right, but still, it comes as a shock that she’s gone: as frail as she was, I still figured she’d outlast all of us, at least that she’d outlast me. I was wrong.

I often said that when she was gone, there would be no one left who could hurt me. About that I was right. Many, many people have been cruel to me, but she had the ability to “push my buttons” in a way that no one else could.

I don’t blame her for that, years of reflection have allowed me to put our unhappy moments into perspective: her deprived childhood, the general ignorance until very recently about the trauma of adoption, the fact that she was over-medicated for most of my childhood and young adulthood.
I no longer see her as a malevolent figure but rather someone who did the best she could, overcoming difficulties in her own life that are impossible for me to imagine.

In her best moments, she was my friend and confidante, sympathetic when I called just to vent. Even in our blackest times, she never forgot my birthday and Christmas.

She left a legacy that I honor and respect: frugality; a European sense of style, thoughtfulness and propriety; a living example of what it means to be a contributing member of a community.
I will miss her.

Anniversaries

I have been writing this blog for five years (11/27/2003) and founded Cape Coder 10 years ago (November 1998).
About the only thing I’ve accomplished in that time of which I am at all proud is to have kept my credit rating intact.
The Cape Blog archive I just downloaded is 1,060 pages long. I wonder if anything in there is as publishable as the musings of Zac Bissonnette, a very good “read” by the way, who at age 20 just landed a book contract with Penguin as a result of his blogging.
Nah.

New Guy on the Block

A friend and I were talking about her daughter, a brilliant, beautiful young woman who is inches away from earning her doctorate but who hasn’t been able to find a professional niche that makes her happy.
I theorized that this could be because in her three most recent jobs, as the last person hired, she’s been the end of the trough into which problems no one else wants to touch have been dumped.

Continue reading New Guy on the Block

Fire Her. Or Something.

Eileen Bernstein, a seventh grade teacher in White Plains, NY, has less common sense than, oh, my neighbor’s demented cocker spaniel.
She bound the hands and feet of two Black girls as part of a social studies lesson about slavery.
Worse, she evidently didn’t understand that she’d done anything wrong.
I dunno, maybe Eileen needs sensitivity training or a lobotomy or something.

Worthwhile

The villages and towns on the Cape have a neat custom called the Christmas stroll.
Tonight I attended the festivities at Bourne Village, which does an outstanding job of putting Christmas cheer into a historical context.
Before I moved to the Cape, I thought of Bourne one way, and have come to a completely opposite opinion. It’s a town that has tremendous pride in its history and which has done a fine job of preserving documents, artifacts and buildings.
Tonight, the Historical Society was open, as well as the Briggs-McDermott house, the grounds of which include a carriage house and a blacksmith shed. There was cheer and festivity in all venues, and I had a wonderful time looking at all the treasures from the past.
Top notch, and the event goes on through the weekend for everyone to enjoy.