Brass Balls. Yes of course she
had them, endowed me with a lovely pair and my daughter plucked a metaphorical
duo from my womb on her way out as well…But Sandi actually had a pair, in a
box, a lovely, ornate, box, on a shelf, in her office. Story goes, and I am
going to take some license, but they were a gift from a person who worked for
her. He, of course, like all who knew her, knew she already had some but these
were really pretty and she could take them out to play with when she was bored
or just wanted to giggle…and maybe she’d now be willing to give his back? But
he didn’t know her. Because of course that was never going to happen. If he
wanted his balls back, he was going to have to find them himself.
My mother was a second wave feminist,
bra burning, marching, voting, activating, advanced education and independence seeking
woman. She was such a feminist, she didn’t think she wanted children, her womb
didn’t define her as female, nor did being a mother need to define and limit her place in society. So when her
sister blurted out over thanksgiving one year that at least her children were
planned (sibling rivalry is cute at every age isn’t it?) mom just looked at me,
glared at her sister, and took this as a teaching moment to let us all know the
foibles of a diaphragm and how we should a) not use one or b) in the least,
fill it with water before you put it in to make sure it’s not behaving like the
end of a watering can. But look, I turned out ok and she was glad she had me
and my very easy birth was actually convenient because on my way out she got
the doc to tie her tubes and this was never an issue again. Done and done. Glass
half full. Our cousin Jonathan saw what I wrote on line and called me yesterday
because he had to share that indeed it was true! He said, ‘my strongest memory of your mother
was the cousins hanging out, we were goin to the beach and mom wouldn’t go! She
said she was going to Manhattan to march for feminism and burn her bra. I was besides
myself, 11 years old thinkin, no bras, lotsa ladies, marching, – that means Boobs
– can I go? Sandi please take me! No?! But people will be taking of their bras
and marching, this I gotta see…what’s feminism? Jury’s out as to whether he’s gotten
a good answer to that question just yet.
Our family is a matriarchy.
Strong, loud and proud. No two ways about it. When I realized the world was
different outside our family unit, and societies patriarchy revealed itself to
me, I was so confused. Our family has intimidated many men I’m sure and I’d
feel sorry for them, I mean what if the tables were turned, we would feel...like
regular women. But I came from some Jewish version Themiscira where the lady warriors
used brains not braun, words and side eye instead of swords. We knew there was
a fight outside the front door, so we studied hard and came prepared.
I told my mother I wanted to be
an artist while in the third grade. She said, “fine, go practice”. The more
serious I got the more lessons I got and the less room there was for debate,
you want this, you do it! If not, stop wasting time and money. When I wanted to
drop out of high school to study music full time, she had me apply to a few private
high schools to add to the list of conservatories, cause maybe I was just bored, which I was…. and she only recently told me
she knew I blew the high school interviews. I had told the admissions counselors
I had no intention of going to their elitist institutions of white privilege I
was going to be an artist, and went promptly ahead to study the music of dead white
European men without seeing the irony till much later…ah youth…
She wasn’t going to hold me back
from my passions, ever. She brought herself up from nothing. She had to buy her
own flute when she wanted to study music, she paid for her own way through B’nai
Brith, she got herself into and through each degree she earned in higher-ed and
she bought herself her first house, on her own, in Los Angeles, in the 70’s, on
her own salary. She even quit smoking -- not for health, but to preserve the
very expensive new curtains she had to buy for her first piece of the American dream.
There was nothing she wouldn’t do to hold the door open for me or for my future,
she would never do the work for me,
but she would hold the door. She was so smart.
This year has been horrendous. But
as she suffered though one indignity after another she still believed it was just
some sort of phase. We had a beautiful conversation the other night, it happened
to be our last, funny how you never know that going in, it just a few days ago.
We talked about end of life plans, just touching base, we talked about Ralph,
and Luna, and Emily, and and even then, she was railing on Ralph because he
refused to talk to her about his last wishes. And how am I going to know what
he wants when he dies. And I looked at my mother, whose body was failing her in
every way and I said, you really think Ralph is going to go first? And she
raised an eyebrow and said, incredulously, ‘he’s so old’! And muttered, ‘much
older than me’, she had fight. And this was her one last injustice. But it showed
her, and frankly I think it showed us, what steel our family is made of and how
many of you loved her. There wasn’t a
time when we couldn’t hear the nurses complaining about how many visitors she
had that they couldn’t get in there to get labs done. Everyone should be so
lucky. But I tell you one thing, among her many gifts, my mom had the biggest blessing
in the world, and her title is sister,
her name is Debbie Bear. That woman,
my aunt, will go down in the book of life one hundred billion times for how she
laid down herself, her job, her husband (sorry mike), seeing to her own health
(don’t do that), and her sleep (don’t do that either), her home, her energy,
her time and heart to be her sisters advocate. To be by her sisters’ side and
have her back in a way Ralph and I never could, between her tenacity, her little
sister set of shiny brassy balls, and her medical professional skill set, I don’t
think I’ll ever witness someone sacrifice so much of themselves over such an extended
period of time in my life. It’s a rare thing the heart and grit of Debbie Bear.
When Dad died mom said we needed
to take a trip to take our mind off the trauma that was that last few years of
his life. She wanted to go someplace far away, some place she had never been…I’m
thinking Bali, and she says, ‘I’ve always wanted to see Auschwitz’… her idea of
vacation and mine were clearly very different. So, we settled on Scotland to
escape and distract from the pain and look at something grand. Fresh off the
plane I promptly got appendicitis, we cancelled all our adventures and extended
our stay at the Aberdeen Hospital. So needless to say, I’m not heading on
vacation, but I did suggest that we all buy a pair of shoes to honor Sandi this
week. I have some purple Fluevogs on the way from ebay. She’d be proud. Didn’t
even pay retail. There are pro’s and con’s to being a certain kind of person but
the one thing about my mom which always struck me is how she always managed to
keep her shit together. My dad suffered from depression, I would argue it was what
killed him, a basic inability to cope. As I was struggling with him in high
school asking (ok crying and screaming) why can’t he get out of bed, why can’t
he take a shower and be a human, why have I lost my father and yet he is still
alive and all the while thinking but not able to say, could this happen to my
mom too? could this happen to me? She said, ‘listen, we don’t have time for
things like this, you and I are different. We have this other thing in us – I gave
it to you – you can be sad, but you will always find a way to move through life
in strength’. And she was right. Even when she broke down, she came back swinging
ready for the next victory because failure was no road block, it was a stepping
stone. There is no quitting, there is no room for complacency, if something in
this world is wrong it is our job to get on board and either fix it ourselves or
support someone who is –I think she endowed us all with just a little bit of
her sassy brass and that is what we must let shine on now that she’s gone. My
warrior mother, now you lay down your sword and shield, you showed us all how
its done, now guide us from above and know we paid attention.
