More conversations

(Some of you recall Sherree posing a question on Facebook recently, asking with whom we would want to spend an hour sitting on a bench overlooking the waves crashing on a gorgeous beach. As was the case with Toni and others, I posted the first comment that came to mind, positing that Elie Wiesel would be a great person with whom to share the bench.  But then Toni suggested in her blog that the question deserved a fuller answer and I have to agree. Hence…)

Now, I’d love to spend the hour with Mary. With only one choice, I choose Mary. And there are several of you who would make stellar bench-sitting partners. Let me just say that I’d give anything for a bench sitting session with Sherree or Sindy or April or Sheila. I am blessed to count a number of strong women among my besties and any time spent with any of you is enriching.

My uncle Bill Branconier passed beyond my reach several years ago. He was quite a guy and one of the original ‘Currahee’ paratroopers during WWII. Every one of my cousins on my mother’s side has wonderful memories of sitting in a circle in front of him in my grandmother’s backyard, enraptured by his tall tales. He was far and away the most accomplished schanachie (Irish for bald-faced liar) I’ve ever met and he could keep a dozen or more kids enthralled (and quiet) while the other uncles and aunts enjoyed visiting with each other. But he never did tell us about his life as a young man. As with many of the Great Generation who had been there and done that, he wasn’t one for discussing his combat experiences. But I’d sure like to hear whatever he’d be willing to share.

 Elie Wiesel stays on the list. He’s spoken to me frequently over the years through his speeches and written work. Night should be on every high school reading list. He advises us that one of the worst things one can be is a bystander. I’ve a thousand questions to ask him or I would be completely fine just sitting with him for an hour listening to the sound of the waves.  His presence would be enough.

My youngest sister would be a good bench partner. We don’t understand each other and that bothers me. I’d like to spend the hour talking about anything but politics or religion.

Vala in the hour before she took her own life. Twenty-seven years passed between the last time I’d seen her and her last day. We were engaged at one time and had great plans for our future together. But she took a different road that ran out too early. Vala always had demons and I don’t kid myself that I – or anyone – could have changed her decision. But I’d like to have tried. Or perhaps, selfishly, just understood.

My Mom. I’d ask her every question that I never did but wish I had. After she passed, I spent a lot of hours with my Dad talking about everything under the sun. I knew a lot about his life and times and thoughts. Mom was perhaps the smartest person I’ve ever met who never went to college. She was the keeper of the family tree and could tell you anything you wanted to know about our heritage. But she almost never spoke to me about her own life and aspirations. How she was redirected by polio. What she would have wanted to do and learn and see. I’d give anything for her to see my daughters following their passions. That would have pleased her. There’s a lot of her in each of them and they’ll never know what that means. Besides, she would have loved the view from that bench.

Toni. Just sitting and watching and listening and talking about writing. And maybe other stuff.

Leon Uris. Diane Gillespie. Sandra Day O’Connor. Pat. Bill.

Or, just myself.