Edward

I was going to write about the World Cup results but something else happened today.

My dear friend, Marion, called and told me that someone we both knew had died. We don't know the circumstances of his death and I don't care if I ever know them. I just know that he's gone.

I hadn't seen Edward in years.

Our first meeting was at Bobbie's house over a wonderful dinner. There were always wonderful meals, good company and even better conversations at Bobbie's.

That's where I first met Edward. He was shy and sweet but when I told him I was Italian, he started relating tales of his first visit to Italy.

He was trekking through Umbria and a group of Franciscans stopped their car and offered him a ride. Edward took them up on the proposition and they brought him to their monastery and offered him lodgings.

He told them that he was Jewish and they replied, "So was Jesus".

Edward had a wonderful time.

Our extended families always met at Bobbie's (Marion's Mom) and again the food and the conversation were always the best. We were Jews, Italians, Irish, etc. but at Bobbie's house, we were all a part of Bobbie and Irwin's family.

Well, time and life have a way of breaking up the best intentions and the best gatherings.

Bobbie and Irwin moved to North Carolina because Burlington had moved their headquarters and Irwin was the only New Yorker they brought with them.

We kept in touch through the phone, back and forth, but it wasn't the same.

Bobbie was like a mother to me and had always been there for me. I'd arrive at her house, not needing any sort of appointment) to discuss my latest tales of woe. She always listened and when she gave advice there was no criticism attached to it.

I missed her terribly.

In the interim, my parents died and just when Bobbie and Irwin were about to return to NY, she got sick. They lived with Marion and her family but Bobbie's diabetes worsened. Although she never complained, and she had reason to complain, her great heart was still open to all of us.

After her death, I started to write a book about mothers: my mother and all the women I had known who had been an inspiration to me. It's a book about their lives and their sayings, their own words of wisdom and it's entitled Mama Says: When A Wolf Is Chasing You, Throw Him A Biscuit But Don't Stop To Bake Him A Cake.

Well, with no money for publicity and no book distribution, my husband and I independently traveled to Book Conventions and to local bookstores.

It was fun, especially when we sold out but it was awful when at some of the bookstores, no one even stopped by our table. I guess they were afraid that if they spoke to me, they would be obliged to buy a book.

I still recall our first appearance at BEA in Chicago. I was quite hesitant but I started talking to a Buddhist nun who put me at immediate ease. As the book was being given away for free and our dear friend, Fruteland Jackson, the great Blues singer was going to accompany me, the nun assured me that all would go well. I'll never forget her words, "The book is free and Americans are grabbers".

One night, we were at Borders and a few people stopped and then ran away as fast as they could so we knew it was going to be one of those awful gigs.

Suddenly, I looked up and there was Edward. We hadn't seen him in years but there was the same shyness and the same sweet smile. He sat down and he picked up the book, leafed through it and saw the chapter on Bobbie.

We were so glad to see each other that it didn't matter that no one else came. We picked up right where we had left off so many years before. It was just like being back at Bobbie's and time flew and it was actually one of my best book tour stops, although I only sold one book.

I wanted to give it to Edward but he bought it. We gave him our phone number and told him to stop by but he never did.

A great writer, possibly Stephen Crane, (I can't remember now), once wrote that "most people live quiet lives of desperation".

With all the noise around us, it's difficult to hone into those quiet lives and with all that's happening to us, we become part of that noise, too.

There are scientists who believe that we live in parallel universes.

I hope that's true. I also hope that acts of kindness, somewhere, reward us for all the cruelties that happen to us in this world.

Edward, my friend, you walked in and out of my life and I choose to keep the memories of you in my life.

Somewhere, however, in a parallel universe, you are trekking through the hills of Umbria and having the time of your life.

Shalom, my friend.