Access To Democracy

   I didn’t know Mary Travers, but her death, an echo of the ’60’s, has had a surprising impact on me.  Peter, Paul and Mary had a special place in my lexicon of that era, along with Joan Baez, the Kingston Trio and several other groups.  They spoke in my voice, echoed my emotions.

    Mary Travers was a few years younger than I, and that, too, has its special impact.  I have spent far too much time in recent years attending funerals, reading the obits of people I knew or respected, hearing of friends and relatives who have been stricken with disease.  We all know that as we get older, the parts break down, sometimes repairable, sometimes not.  In the last eight months I have had two hernia operations (the second a re-do of the first) and a skin cancer procedure.  A decade ago I thought it was all over when I learned I had prostate cancer, but an operation with the implanting of radioactive seeds seemed to alleviate that problem.

     The thing about it is — we never know.  Oh, yes, we never know when we step off the curb, or when we get in our car, but the fact is that we know from childhood that the final day will come.  I think that as you get older, it’s more on your mind, although I like to think I’ve adopted the philosphy of my mother, who died three years ago at 99, and always looked ahead, never looked back.  The fact that she was active and had all her faculties until the final few days was a gift.

   It must be reassuring to believe that death takes us to a better place, but it’s not a belief that I’ve ever shared.  Since childhood I’ve accepted that when it’s over, it’s over.  I guess the best one can hope for is to live on in memory, or in deed.  And hope that the memories are pleasant ones, ones which will make someone smile, or laugh, or feel warmer inside.

     The first five decades of my life were not something I look back upon too fondly, except for the birth of children.  And I didn’t handle fatherhood very well, as I look back over a litany of mistakes.  There are many things from those years that I regret, that I wish offered the opportunity for do-overs — I wish I had been a stronger person, both morally and emotionally.   But the past, as they say, is past.

     I’ve been fortunate enough, however, to have the next 25 years in which I like to think I’ve become a very different person, and to find a relationship which has helped make my life more meaningful, with a companion who is tolerant and caring.  We’ve been together over 20 years, married over 13, and that support has been in large part responsible for me to adopt new passions, to reassess, to move forward.  Certainly that’s been more than many have had, for which I will be greatful to the end.  This is beginning to sound maudlin, and that was not my intent as I sat down to write instead of grading papers, but there are always things swirling around that we leave unsaid, so I digressed.

     If anything I’m more liberal (I think progressive is the P.C. term), more active, and I hope more compassionate than ever before, and look forward to the future with excitement and anticipation.  I don’t know what will happen as I step off that next curb, or snap on my seatbelt, but in retrospect, I can’t complain.  All this because of Mary Travers, a woman I never met, but I thank her for it.