Dispatch from the Wilderness

Greetings readers, I hope you are all well and have enjoyed the holiday month, whatever your tradition. I took a break from writing in my blog since my last piece on Visiting Royalty in early August. I do owe you a wrap-up, and this will be in the form of meandering through the year in no particular order.

Annual Holiday Newsletters: I remember my parents receiving end-of-year newsletters in the mail, from family, neighbors, friends of family, and business colleagues, when we corresponded through the post office. They typically contained uplifting detail about the great year everyone in the family enjoyed – the kids on the honor roll or making the team, moving into a new house in a nicer town, the dad getting a promotion, the camping trip or the vacation at Disney.

The list of interesting events, vacations, accomplishments, and good fortune went on and on, but I read them line for line whether I knew the people or not. I felt like a fly on the wall in a way of life different from mine, especially if the family celebrated Christmas. I also felt a bit guilty, surreptitiously observing the home and life of a family not quite like mine, somehow more exciting.

Once I became a family law attorney, I was privy to all sorts of family information as a matter of course, and not just the celebratory highlights through the eyes of the enthusiastic family historian. On the other side of the coin, I’ve opened up my own life in this blog from my childhood and coming of age all the way to dealing with the unexpected transformation into an “age-ier” version of myself.

Small-town New England has been my home base since my mid-twenties. While I hardly arrived here with the Puritans, I appreciate the beautiful region with its town commons, classic architecture, historic farms and inns, back roads, woodland trails, rocky sea coast, eroding mountains. And the food interests me too, some favorites being authentic Indian pudding (made of molasses, cornmeal, and raisins) and lobster rolls. We have enough trees on our property to maintain a supply of firewood that my son splits and stacks for the winter. Ancient stone walls covered in lichen form a border, created when colonial farmers prepared fields and meadows for crops and livestock grazing.

The autumn here was spectacular, but with winter solstice on the 21^st, the seasonal change is now official. I found a pair of snow shoes while sorting through the basement and they are waiting for the white stuff to appear. When I bought them years ago, I was amazed that I could walk on top of deep soft snow without sinking; it feels magical but the physics supports it. And there is no skill necessary although some stamina is required—if you can walk, you can snow shoe! For those of my friends and family who live in temperate climates, don’t try this at home.

On my early evening walk in the refreshing air of Christmas Eve, I don’t encounter any other walkers. The curtains are parted in many houses to reveal their lit tree and the warm glow of the living room. Like the annual newsletter, I look briefly into the life of the occupants at their invitation, and this reminds me of my own tradition, when we place the lit Chanukah menorah in a street-facing window to show that a Jewish family is celebrating the holiday.

Given the imminent closing of the calendar year, it’s tempting to review my recent life, in the manner of an annual letter. But just a few random thoughts will suffice.

So sadly, this year began with a tragedy, the death of an especially dear and generous friend to Covid in January, before the vaccines were approved and available. Marcia was a labor arbitrator with an active national practice. She was prominent in her field, traveling around the country to conduct hearings, writing articles and books to contribute to innovation and scholarship, speaking at conferences and mentoring new talent. She was taken down by the virus in five days, snuffed out just like that. We had been planning to watch the presidential inauguration on the 20^th – instead, I watched it for her . . . .

Let’s be honest, none of us has experienced anything like what life has brought us since March 2020. This brings to mind the connection that my family has with the Spanish Flu Epidemic of 1918.

I knew that a member of my husband’s family died in 1918. I recall my mother-in-law Frances mentioning her older sister Jennie “who died from a sickness.” Family records show that she would have been 21 years old at her death. I connected the dots when I discovered that young adults were hardest hit, whatever the reason, unlike now, and Jennie was in that vulnerable group. My mother-in-law lived to age 99 and never specifically mentioned Spanish Flu by name, but illness of family members was often kept under wraps out of fear, shame, or ignorance. Sadly, her sister missed out on growing up in the century unfolding after the lethal flu subsided.

My 50^th Law School Reunion took place in November but I didn’t attend due to Covid concerns. Nevertheless, the school proceeded with in-person gatherings of all classes ending in 0 or 5. I strongly felt that this was disrespectful especially to the older classes who might be reluctant to travel and meet indoors for dinners and socializing. I wrote a strongly worded letter to the Reunion Committee requesting at least one opportunity to congregate with my classmates on Zoom. Given that the 50^th is a huge milestone year and they were requesting class gifts, I was sure they would see the light and relent. I was disappointed in the response – they just didn’t see it my way – but I received a huge bonus in reconnecting with my classmate Susie S.

We shared many memories of law school days when we were pioneers both in school and in our early careers, women being a single digit percentage of the class and the profession. We connected – in fact, clicked – as if no time had gone by, and I am talking fifty years, an outrageous number! We hope to meet at her summer place in Maine and nourish our friendship that has been waiting in the wings for just such an opportunity.

A friend of mine has referred to this year as “wretched,” and I know what she means. We expected to be in a better place by the end of 2021, but life remains challenging on so many levels. I will not go into my own struggles, as many have it worse. And I will not go into uplifting moments, as so much is random and a product of good fortune that not all of us have experienced in good measure. No advice here, other than to say let’s do the best we can for ourselves and for others, with as much effort, respect, kindness, hope, patience and positivity as we can muster.

In years past, before my husband passed away in 2013, we’d host a New Year’s Day Open House, the theme being the ease and relaxation of good company and conversation, shared food, a huge urn of coffee, and board games or  puzzles on my aunt’s old card tables opened up for the day. This year, pot-luck dinners are no longer lucky, and sharing has an ominous meaning.

Regardless of how we end the year and begin the new one, I wish for you a safe and peaceful journey through 2022.