“Happy or unhappy, families are all mysterious. We have only to imagine how differently we would be described—and will be, after our deaths—by each of the family members who believe they know us.” Gloria Steinem
Hey, why go small? Might as well go big with two expansive topics. After all, I’ve never shied away from big issues in this small blog. In this post, I’m going to discuss how two groups have helped me engage in meaningful conversations about the realities of living and dying and about one life that continues to inspire me after his death.
The first group has played an important role in my life for 44 years. In 1982, the Basking Ridge Book Club had its first meeting. There were 6 couples in the initial group spanning an age range of 20 years. My wife and I were the youngest at 34 and 37 respectively. Over the course of 44 years, we are the only ones in the original group still living. The group expanded to eight couples over time and finally stabilized at four couples who have been together now for over 40 years.
Last week, our group met to discuss Ann Patchett’s new book, Whistler, which discusses the different ways we can process grief AND preserve connections. The book deals with themes centered on the impermanence of life coupled with the permanence of love, our ability to deepen connections through storytelling, and the ways in which families can transcend biological and physical ties. What I loved most about the book was how Patchett reveals, through her writing, how moments can shape a lifetime, how reconciliation requires confronting the narratives that keep whispering in our ears, and how art and memory can provide solace for loss. That’s a lot for a bunch of old folks to process.
What’s really beautiful about our book group is that all of those themes have been discussed and debated in their unique manifestations in each person’s life. Over the years, we have all told our stories. There is an intimacy in the group that has ripened like fine wine as we have aged. We have all suffered loss, formed diverse families, and exposed our vulnerabilities—leading to deeper relationships. We have openly shared our experience of joys, sorrows, and existential angst. We have learned to welcome differences and build enduring connections.
Since we are all in our 80’s now (with the exception of my wife), we are not only rejoicing in every day we have been given but also preparing for our inevitable end. At this point in our lives, each day is a bonus. And each face in our Zoom calls tells a story of its own. The group has enabled all of us to celebrate life’s successes and support each other as we approach life’s end. Naturally, over the course of 44 years together, we have lost many beloved members.
In our most recent meeting, we openly discussed our impermanence and wondered about what “transition” might look like. No one knows, of course, but we raised questions like, “If death means the loss of body, mind, memory, and identity, what’s left and where do we go?” I believe our spirits and souls simply return to Tao. Others believe we simply need to realize we are already at One. So many simple beliefs; so little certainty about the complexities of life and death. These are not typically the conversations you have with casual friends at dinner.
Fortunately, there are also organizations in our community that facilitate deeper conversations like the ones we have been lucky enough to have in our book group. In this post, I want to shine a bright light on the National Writers Series in Traverse City, which has done just that. NWS has been raising life and death issues in the community for the past 17 years under the skillful guidance of Doug and Ann Stanton. This nonprofit, community organization has made a significant difference in so many people’s lives by not being afraid to ask hard questions and to model deep dialogue. Essentially, the NWS mission is to promote reading and writing, engage the community in meaningful conversations, and connect people with big ideas and nationally prominent authors. What a gift.
The NWS Raising Writers programs support young readers and writers in multiple ways: poetry workshops, college essay writing, scholarships, creative writing, and “Battle of the Books” competitions. Through its events, NWS also brings world renowned authors to Traverse City and provides opportunities to encounter remarkable writing up close and personal. By exploring provocative questions and different perspectives, NWS shapes lives and sheds light on our times.
At NWS, people are not afraid to talk about life and death issues. One might say they are trying to prevent the death of curiosity, meaningful conversations, deep contemplation, and creative (un-AI-assisted) writing. To me, they are breathing life into dying values. I’m very grateful for the work they are doing, and I’m hoping they will continue to inspire people to live their lives more fully and to confront their deaths more honestly.
In previous posts, I have explored what, to me, are critical life and death issues, but words can never fully capture the meaning, magic, or mystery of life and death – no matter how short or long our lives turn out to be. Benjamin Franklin said, “Some people die at 25 and aren’t buried until 75.” Marcus Aurelius said that “it is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.” And Martin Luther King, Jr., is quoted as saying, “If a man has not discovered something that he will die for, he isn’t fit to live.”
To introduce this post and to honor a life well-lived, I shared a quote by Gloria Steinem in which she asks us to imagine how differently we will be described after our deaths by people who believe they know us. Hmmm, we can be sure that the opinions will vary widely depending on how close we were to the person who died. Perhaps now is the time to think about what kind of legacy we leave behind instead of letting others define our life after we are gone.
In closing, I want to acknowledge how unfair life can be and how, when a life is cruelly cut short, memories and connections can endure beyond death. Dear friends of ours recently lost their 19-year-old son to cancer after four years of a brutal battle with this devastating disease. In his last few years, Zach showed a grace and grit that left all of us in awe of his courage and his commitment to make the most of every moment he had. He didn’t complain. He always had a smile on his face. And he lived with dignity every day he had. He lived his life bravely and faced his death beautifully. His parents recently sent out a package to friends and families with a rock to commemorate his life. We were all asked to place the rock in a spot that would have special meaning and would remind us of his life—a life that never had a chance to fully blossom, but that left precious petals all along the way. His memory remains, and his love endures. His life lives on in our hearts and souls. I believe these connections never end.
Finally, given the timing of this post, I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the most holy day of the year for Jews. Yom Kippur, which just ended last week, is the 25-hour Jewish Day of Atonement. Beyond seeking forgiveness and engaging in self-reflection, it involves contemplating our own mortality to help us focus on what truly matters in life. Jews have been confronting these fundamental life and death questions for thousands of years. It is a practice from which we could all learn.
I’m hoping our book group can stay in tack for another decade or so and continue to broaden our horizons and deepen our relationships. I’m hoping the NWS will continue to engage the community in meaningful conversations and inspire new generations of writers and readers to think deeply and relate openly. Finally, I’m hoping, when the time comes, we all die living as gracefully and fully as Zach. May it be so.
Love it-thank you Ricky