So Long, Farwell and Thanks
Two people died last week. Well, probably more than that, but two people that were tangential to my life decided to slip the surly bonds and head off to their next adventure. They were not close friends but they both profoundly affected my life.
The first one was Janet Rees, a lovely woman who ran the Creative Aging program for Jewish Family Services here in Phoenix. She had created the Arizona Jewish Theater Company in the late 1980s and was a force with which to be reckoned. I met her two years ago when I began taking writing classes at the synagogue by my house. She breezed in to introduce our instructor, Kim Porter, and the room was filled with vitality, joy, possibility and enthusiasm. I next saw her at the December holiday event at the Jewish Family Center where her group of seniors was performing a play about Channukah and our group was reading some of the works we had done during the eight week session. Again, I was struck by the force of her being and that wonderful laugh. Our interactions over the next two years were few, but all of them memorable. She was a “can do” lady and reminded me a lot of my mother. When the pandemic hit she found a way to transfer most of her programs to Zoom so that the seniors could stay connected and our lives would have one less disruption. The last time I spoke with her was in late October when she asked me to facilitate our writing class while our leader, Kim, was away attending to family issues. She was the same advocate and cheerleader as always. She opened the Zoom room twice and then the next week it was another lady saying Janet had another meeting. I now know the other meeting was that she had entered the hospital. Unbeknownst to us she suffered from idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis. She had only learned of it in September. Her last four weeks were in the hospital. When I heard of her passing, I so wished for one more time to tell her how her creativity had given me back mine. Luckily, I had told her that and more over the two years, but her no longer being opened a big void.
That was the day before Thanksgiving. On Thanksgiving I learned that Willie Woods was in the hospital having had a toe removed because of diabetes. His kidneys were not functioning and on Sunday a heart attack took him away. Willie Woods I have known since high school. I had seen him at the reunion in October and been able to have a few more laughs. I mostly saw him at reunions and on Facebook from time to time. He loved cooking out, Margaritas and Hawaiian shirts while blasting the Beach Boys at full volume. For 38 years he was a Phoenix police officer. There was something about him that glued our high school class together. He was one of those people that everyone knew, the former football star that was always funny and kind. Just one of the good guys.
I have spent time since these two losses reflecting on life. The theme I keep coming back to is that I do not believe many of us know how much we are loved, appreciated, and admired. We know of a few that we hear from regularly but have no sense of the impact our being has on the world. As we bump up against each other daily in time and space we are so busy doing our lives that we do not realize that in doing we are also leaving little pieces along the way. Dropping breadcrumbs that help others we may never see again find their way along the path or even back home. It has nothing to do with great acts, but rather in simply connecting, sharing and listening. I would like to thank all of you that are reading this for allowing me to come and touch your lives and for touching mine in return. Your comments and insights about the blog keep me going and fill me up with possibility. I just needed you to know.
