Goodbyes

Dear Maureen and Shara,

Writers of eulogies and commencement addresses (and wedding toasts, come to think of it) often make the same mistake: we use the lens of the event we’re ostensibly discussing to talk about ourselves. Instead of speaking volumes about the departed or the happy couple, we talk about what they mean to us. (Sometimes, sisters of brides, this is really boring.) It’s cheap! And I will try to strike a good balance.

Any goodbye note to you is a combination of these three speeches: a eulogy for your time here at HRF – you are departing and we will miss you more than we can quite grasp right now (though you probably have some idea); a commencement address, as you go off into the great big world, ready for the next thing, but without the comforts you’ve grown accustomed to (i.e. morning meetings with me); and a wedding toast - even though this is a sort of dissolution of your marriage in some sense, in another way it’s an opportunity for us all to express how we feel about you, and how we wish you well.

You may no longer put human rights first, but I bet they’ll be pretty high up on your priorities lists anyway. Like, second? Close second. You will be missed here, you know. That’s the only way to say it, in the passive voice. Collectively, sharply, you will be missed. Hard to imagine this place without you, but you’ve prepared us well for the next steps – we hope. Due to your influence, I’m tempted to list accomplishments, measurable outcomes attained (and measured!) – they are legion. But I hope the one-pagers you are preparing on yourselves hint at the quieter but grander project you’ve been at work on here. Shaping, positively, the every day experience of this complicated, flawed, wonderful place. You were thoughtful, strategic, enthusiastic, organized, and your millions of decisions made this place function, hum along day-to-day. I think your kindness and professionalism helped all of us be a little kinder, a little more organized, a little more strategic.

We made a great team, by the way. Maureen, I am sorry not everybody here had a chance to see you be goofy. Because it happens, and it is hilarious. Thank you for taking a chance on me, and letting me be generally far too goofy. Shara, thank you for making our team complete, bringing your humor and steadfast reasonableness to our table every morning. And for being my friend as well as my champion.

What a unique place I found myself in within the organization, friendly with everyone, bearer of bad news, portal to the boss. Sometimes I joked that I felt like the child of divorce that I am, caught between the staff and the management at the top, not part of either world. Truth is, you never made it difficult for me, never made me choose sides, never made me compromise a thing. Thank you for making a space for me here for me to just be myself, for letting me become a part of the spirit of this place.

So, this is your graduation. It’s the end of an era, for you, for HRF. The task before you, as before all graduates, is to figure out what you love to do. Go forth, my friends, save the world, try to laugh a lot. Be goofy. Don’t worry too much about HRF – we’ll be okay.

In closing, something totally apropos (though I’m only 70% as sappy as a fictional character.) Final episode of Mary Tyler Moore, and everyone is leaving WJM, saying goodbye. As those of you who were alive in 1977 will recall, Mary has this to say:
“I just wanted you to know that sometimes I get concerned about being a career woman. I get to thinking my job is too important to me, and I tell myself that the people I work with are just the people I work with. And not my family. And last night, I thought, 'what is a family, anyway'? They're just people who make you feel less alone and really loved. And that's what you've done for me. Thank you for being my family.”

Thank you for being my family, guys.

Carly.

Not quite a summer anthem, but a song for long drives is this, both happy and sad at the same time, nostalgia-inducing but with value beyond nostalgia, is Paul Simon’s Graceland. Everybody feels the wind blow…

Damn, Cecilia, you are totally breaking my heart

Last night I attended the Senior Prom at the Jewish Home and Hospital on the Upper West Side, an annual dance for the seniors residing there. There was a live band, decoration, those little pigs-in-blankets hors d'oeuvres that everyone loves, professional dancers, corsages, and more. It was the event of the season. (You can read about last year’s prom here.) It was seriously cute, with great enthusiasm all around. My friend Jocelyn, a regular at my Bingo game and totally lovely elegant lady, was crowned Prom Queen. The highlight of the evening was when the band played the Beatles’ hit “When I’m 64” to an audience for whom 64 is but a memory. When I was 12 I thought this song was cheesy, but I sang my heart out last night. I must be getting old(er), too? I like the harmonies now. Also, Paul McCartney, 64 just isn’t old.

Bonus anecdote: I went to a restaurant called “Speedo’s” in Tel Aviv, and it was indeed a Speedo’s-brand restaurant, with menu categories named after sports, and assorted weirdness. Waiters/waitresses did not actually wear speedos, in a bizarre inversion of expectations.

Summer Anthem: Ignoring for a moment the wave of teen pop dreck that it ushered in, Britney Spears’ first ever hit …Baby One More Time in the summer of 1999 was nothing less than genius. Remember when our society was shocked by her school girl outfit in this video? Who knew how much more collective obsession we had in store for watching the exploitation and fall of this one? Honestly, I am always longing for a time machine so that I can go back to 1999 and tell everyone what happens to Britney in the future. No one would ever believe me! Think of how our world has changed in the subsequent years, and tell me I haven’t blown your minds with nostalgia this afternoon. I could write dissertations on the gal, but I’d rather let her fade into obscurity and quiet domestic happiness wherever she is in Louisiana (with any luck). Anyway, sorry, but this song is great. The swedish (producers of pop songs) can do anything.

Summer Anthem: I listened to this during the summer of 1999 just as much as Britney; Simon & Garfunkel’s Cecilia. I got up to wash my face, when I come back to bed someone’s taken my place? Damn, Cecilia, you are totally breaking my heart.

Ella, ella

Pithy comments about Israel are in short supply and I have maybe exhausted them over the course of the last few weeks, plus I’m still trying to sort through the serious stuff, and digest the whole experience, which offered up very little rest. The trip was intended to be largely non-controversial (unless one was thinking about it), awesome just to be outside, and very interesting. I met a lot of people with whom I have nothing in common, but I also feel like a sucker for making friends on the trip, just like the literature promised. They fed us constantly, by the way, making me totally tired of my usual staples – hummus and baby carrots. Thanks a lot, free trip to Israel. Oh and much of Israel looks a lot like Florida. Also, if you are interested in 70s-era prog rock in Hebrew, please see me. And, no I didn’t resolve any conflicts while I was there. Sorry!

Summer Anthem: It has to be this. Such energy! I sang it constantly over there, despite not ever being in slightest need of an umbrella (ella ella). I danced to it twice at a club in Tel Aviv (we were having a really authentic experience.) And I sang it atop a camel while my co-camel-rider danced. The camel loved it.

After nearly two weeks without access to the internet or a decent night’s sleep, I don’t have much to add to my corner, except that I’m glad to be back home, in Brooklyn and at HRF.

From the road in Israel

From the road in Israel: so have you guys ever heard of the Druze? Mostly, my new lifelong best friends with whom I have forged lasting friendships that will no doubt last a lifetime and I are marveling at the secrecy surrounding them and their religious practices, and our interest was especially piqued by being told that the Druze won't accept us as converts. (We wouldn't join any club that would have us, etc etc.) As a result of our affection and fascination for the Druze, we've spent a lot of time giggling about puns, inventing the tv show Druze Clues, the movie Druze Brothers (starring Tom Druze), reading Nancy Druze detective stories, driving our cars using Druze control, partying on a Druze Cruise, founding the groups Druze for Jesus and Jews for Druze, and in a few days visiting Druzelem.

The Mediterranean Sea's pretty nice, too. Oh! We just passed a camel while I was typing this. And a final word before I get back into the business of riding this bus: I join Mike and Maureen in wishing Shara well. She will be missed, for sure, by all of us, but I will especially miss her relentless championing of me. That, and the private room karaoke. Stellar. See you next week!