Good morning and Happy Birthday Lauren!
FOUR YEARS SINCE THE ONSET OF COVID
Today marks the fourth anniversary of the Musings. To date, there have been 400 Musings FROM the Bunker (during the period in which we were locked-down to one degree or another) and 878 Musings BEYOND the Bunker, from the date we began to emerge from our COVID isolation. That’s a total of 1,278 Musings. Thank you, all, for bearing with me and allowing me to enter your lives each morning with what I hope is a thoughtful distraction that just might spark agreement, disagreement, and further thought. And thanks to all who have contributed some of their own musings to this project.
LAUREN AND BRAD
But today is an even more important anniversary—because today is the day that 28 years ago Lauren and Brad came into this world. I am resisting the desire to wax poetic about our remarkable children (that said, they ARE remarkable!) and instead thought I’d share a few anecdotes around their birth.
When we were blessed with twins, it was at the end of a trying time for our family. My sister Gale had been diagnosed with cancer of the ethmoid sinus, a very rare form of cancer, in June of 1995. I had thought that it was caught early and, therefore, with the benefits of modern medicine, her odds were good. My father, a physician and a bottom-line thinker told me that the prognosis was not good and to prepare for the worst. I still didn’t believe it.
A not insignificant portion of Andrea’s pregnancy was spent visiting Gale, both at home and later in the hospital (which was the site of our Thanksgiving and Hanukkah celebrations). Gale was the model patient and non-complainer. She always inquired about others and always had candy in the drawer next to her bed, ready to share with Jake.
Gale always put on a game face and assured me that she would get through it. But she also shared with me that “I hope you’re not naming your daughter after me.” This, of course, was a reference to the Jewish tradition of naming someone in memory of a relative. After a roller-coaster of ups and downs, she succumbed to the disease in January. Two months later, the twins were born and Gale’s fear that we would name our daughter in her memory came true. We couldn’t bear to regularly refer to our daughter by the same name, so she was given Gale’s name as her middle name.
STOICISM IN THE FACE OF TRAGEDY
I have written from time to time over the past few years that my parents were stoics. As a reminder, stoics are not people without feelings, as often is assumed by the ill-informed. Rather (and this is the briefest of explanations), it acknowledges the need to bear hardship and pain, the acceptance of things as they are, and directing oneself toward productivity and away from self-pity. My parents spent the period of Gale’s illness fulfilling their responsibility as parents, providing endless and unqualified support for her and everyone around her. There are two things I will never forget from their behaviors at this time.
The first was a conversation I had with my father in the hallway of the hospital. He confirmed that the prognosis was not good, but he urged me to go back to work and not hang around endlessly. “This is our responsibility—not yours. I will let you know when and how you’re needed.” He was true to his word. He and my mother didn’t avoid responsibility—they rushed into it. The second is my mother, when she first laid eyes of the kids. She looked at Lauren through the nursery’s glass windows with tears running from her eyes and said, a mere 10 weeks after losing her only daughter, “She’s beautiful. We lost our wonderful daughter and gained a wonderful granddaughter.” Lauren has more than lived up to that observation.
CAMUS, THE STOIC AND THE EXISTENTIALIST
I often return to a letter from Camus that expresses stoicism in a most pleasing way:
“In the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invincible love.
In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile.
In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm.
I realized, through it all, that…
In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.
And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.”
The letter above may not be a letter at all, but a compilation of a variety of writings by Camus in a “mash-up” of sorts. Regardless of its provenance, the thoughts contained therein are beautiful. And so, in celebrating Lauren and remembering Brad, I am filled with happiness and an invincible summer. Neither has ever been a disappointment. Both have given me immeasurable pleasure and pride.
LAUREN—SEE YOU SUNDAY!
Lauren loves to celebrate. Her birthday is not unlike an Indian wedding or Hanukkah—days and days of events with family and friends. Tonight is the second or third celebration of her birthday. This Sunday, we’ll be visiting her for yet another celebration of the blessed event. I agree with Lauren that one can’t celebrate enough—and she deserves it all!
Have a great day,
Glenn
Happy Belated Birthday to Your Daughter Lauren. I loved reading through the musing!
Glenn, your musing today is particularly poignant. Your devoted parents left an incredible legacy. Thank you for sharing and Happy Birthday to Lauren.