2023.07.DisappearingMoment
Don't go changing, to try and please me
You never let me down before
Don't imagine you're too familiar
And I don't see you anymoreMy grandmother, my mother's mother, was 65 when her friend noticed that her eyes were yellow. Isabel Benson insisted my grandmother see a doctor.
My grandmother was dubious. She felt fine. She played tennis all the time. What could be wrong?
Liver cancer. Inoperable. That didn't stop her from having the surgeons excise as much as possible.
My mother was 36. Her mother died ten excruciating months later.
I would not leave you in times of trouble We never could have come this far I took the good times, I'll take the bad times I'll take you just the way you are
We had moved to Philadelphia less than a year earlier. In Alabama, Mom had family, friends, safety, familiarity, a routine. Philadelphia was farther than she'd ever lived from family.
It wasn't her mother's condition alone that made the distance feel isolating. Mom also had a new baby, my sister, Robin.
She had postpartum depression.
She had a hyperactive oldest child (me) and a quiet, bullied (by me) middle child, my brother, Jeffrey.
She had two dogs and two cats.
She had a new job, her first work outside the home in seven years.
Don't go trying some new fashion Don't change the color of your hair You always have my unspoken passion Although I might not seem to care
Mourning consecrates or dooms romantic partnerships. Her marriage to my father wasn't meant to last.
Her oldest brother, a bigot and bumbler ("Ya ever listen to that Rush Limbaugh? What a hoot!"), didn't waste a good crisis. He stole the inheritance their mother wanted to leave her.
My memories of my mother at that time are of her crying.
I don't want clever conversation I never want to work that hard I just want someone that I can talk to I want you just the way you are
Somewhere in there, she bought a new, hit album: Billy Joel's The Stranger. Mom didn't buy a lot of albums before that, and it's one of the last albums she bought for herself. I listened to it a lot, along with my Kiss albums and some disco records.
She listened to it a bit, more with me than on her own. I want to believe it gave her some comfort.
I need to know that you will always be The same old someone that I knew What will it take till you believe in me The way that I believe in you
Through it all, they made me feel like I was capable of anything. I felt confident in their love and in my abilities.
It wasn't like my parents saw everything about me as perfect. Not the bullying or my tantrums.
They put me in corrective footwear when I was in preschool. They tried for years to get me to stop sucking my thumb. They put braces on my teeth. They had me go to therapy and changed my diet because I was hyperactive.
They tried to get me to be kinder to my brother. They tried to teach me manners.
I said I love you and that's forever And this I promise from the heart I couldn't love you any better I love you just the way you are
Mom's pride in me is uplifting even when I don't deserve it. Earlier this month, the White House invited me to see the Long Branch Free Public Library receive a national medal from Jill Biden. (How do you know if someone was a guest at the White House? They'll tell you.)
Mom drafted a press release and sent it to me via email for me to distribute. When I didn't respond to her message within an hour, she sent it to me again.
Last week, I took my mother to visit one of closest friends, Judi, and Judi’s husband, Joel. Joel has been living with cancer for a few years and he decided to transition to hospice. It was a good visit in that nothing seemed different. Joel’s an atheist, an academic, sardonic and restrained. Their son and daughter were there. Everyone talked over each other. We laughed. We got angry about politics. We commented on each other’s age and appearance. It was Jewishness at its most sitcom. It was what everyone there needed.
Then I took Mom to dinner and we talked. I made sure I had the story straight. She corrected some facts, helped me get the sequence right. She said it was the worst year of her life.
She's had quite a few bad years. Some people reach 81 with one or two harrowing years. Mom hasn't been that lucky.
I believe her. It was a terrible year and I contributed to her misery. Not on my own. I was in first and second grade. I wish, especially for her and for my brother, that I had been different than I was.
I don't want clever conversation I never want to work that hard I just want someone that I can talk to I want you just the way you are
I didn't ask Mom about her brother. That's not something we discuss. She has a relationship with him. I do not.
If your brother is heinous, some people choose acceptance over separation. Others do not.
I do not accept having been the brother or son that I was. Justice demands that I make amends.
We can revisit and reinterpret the soundtracks of our lives.
It's an idea I stole, for this introduction, from Ted Lasso. One of the character in the show gives a eulogy in which she Rickrolls the mourners at her father's funeral.
It's a lot more moving than I've made it sound. I cry every time I watch the scene.
Welcome to July 2023’s Disappearing Moment, an inventory of my experiences. I hope you enjoy it.
Podcasts
Dying for Sex (I Loved It): Like Sex & the City, if Samantha were terminal. Sad, not maudlin. Bawdy, not titillating. Honest, not insensitive.
Sturdy Girl Club (I Liked It): A favorite topic: strength sports (lifting, bodybuilding, strongperson). The format echoes my favorite comedy podcast, The Alice Fraser Trilogy.
Nerdy Software
Scheduling Is a lot easier when at least one of the people involved subscribes to SavvyCal.
Bougie Products
Erős Pista (Strong Steven), the second most popular chili sauce in Hungary. It's made from hot paprika and salt. I like it as the paste that's sold in 70 gram tubes.
Personal Finance and Investing
If you own mutual funds or ETFs, buy U.S. and international funds. . Cliff Asness and his AQR colleagues explain why investing globally makes sense.
Reading
Lauren Fleshman, Good for a Girl (2023) (I Loved It): Manifesto, memoir, and systematic review. Lauren was a great runner and is a great writer.
Patrick Radden Keefe, Say Nothing (2018) (A Personal Favorite): What price sovereignty? Come for the perfect prose, stay for the Irish accent.
Albums 32–39 (of 129)
Billy Joel, The Stranger (1977): These ear-worms are in my DNA. See above.
Tom Waits, Rain Dogs (1985): The confidence to be yourself. To create the sound you want to hear. It’s invigorating.
Sonic Youth, Daydream Nation (1988): I felt Kim and Thurston’s divorce as a death. A betrayal. An indictment. Neither daydreams nor nations last.
REM, Out of Time (1991): You can listen to an album too much and still, years later, like its songs more than you remembered.
Girls Against Boys, Venus Luxure No. 1 Baby (1993): A refined sense of menace. To death metal as Neanderthals are to humans. More antecedent than progenitor.
Sixteen Horsepower, Sackcloth ’n’ Ashes (1996): Jesus Lizard + Wolf Parade + Mountain Goats = Proto Death Metal?! Timeless, genuine, emotional. Come for the accordion, stay for the perfect prose.
Boston Spaceships, The Planets are Blasted (2009): Robert Pollard is Dylan sans contempt. He makes Mark E. Smith look like Charles Bissell. He released two albums while you listened to this one.
Teen Daze, Glacier (2013): There was a glacial lake where Montana is now. The western edge melted and sixty Amazons flowed to the Pacific, creating the American espresso industry.
Thanks for spending a few moments with me. I look forward to corresponding again next month.
Brett
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