Dear Diane | Old Photos
Dear Diane,
Summer 1968. How do you like your lovely tanned legs? And what about those toes? I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten this picture! Read the rest of this entry »
Telling the Truth
connecting the dots of my life
April 27, 2015
Delight and Joy
~~~Longwood Gardens Flower Walk, 2014
Today, Sunday, I’m trying an experiment. No deeds of duty or ‘oughtness.’ Just what delights me. There was a time in my life when the list of things that delighted me was very short.
Why? Because too much joy or delight would be Read the rest of this entry »
April 26, 2015
An Importunate Woman | Memories
St. Mark’s Coptic Cathedral, Alexandria, Egypt
In January 2010, D and I visited St. Mark’s Coptic Orthodox Cathedral in Alexandria, Egypt. The poem below is about an unexpected event while we were there.
That evening, Read the rest of this entry »
April 25, 2015
Early Marriage | Part 2
Fall 1965-Spring 1966. That’s Park Street Church in the photo. It’s on a corner across from the Boston Common (to the left), and down the hill from the Statehouse. Stately and elegant, the church has a history of outdoor preaching at mid-day from the balcony you see above the corner doors. (click to enlarge)
I’ve never been a member of a church like this. In fact, I’m almost allergic to great big famous churches. Still, it’s an interesting church, and we decide to attend there.
On Sunday mornings traffic is decent. That makes it easier to navigate the twisting cow-path back streets of Boston. On the map below, Park Street is down on the left, just next to the green area–the Boston Common.
~~~Boston Street Map 1960s
Every now and then the senior pastor of Park Street Church hosts a small group of students in his home. It’s for men interested in theological studies or in becoming ministers. Spouses are included, though I don’t remember meeting any except the pastor’s wife. As I said, it’s for men.
Sunday evenings we go to a group for young adults. Most are men, students in colleges and universities. Not many women. Definitely a place to meet, greet and look for interesting people. It seems women have yet to make a substantial mark on the Park Street Church.
Right now D and I are mingling with the large young adult group, meeting and greeting each other. The meeting hasn’t begun yet. Just the mingling.
The following short-version ‘dialogues’ are in my voice. You’ll have to imagine the other sides.
~Hi, I’m Elouise. Pleased to meet you. ‘Elouise.’ Yes, with a ‘u.’ It’s OK. I understand.
~Hi, I’m Elouise. Yes, I’ve been here before. No, I came with David. Yes, he’s my husband. Nice meeting you, too.
~Hi, I’m Elouise. It’s OK. It’s hard to remember names and faces. No, I came with David. See you around.
~Hi, I’m Elouise. That’s right; Elouise. No problem. I’m David’s wife. Nice meeting you, too. See you around.
Is there a sign on my back that says ‘MARRIED’? Why aren’t there more women here? Why am I here?
I know I’m a good listener. But do I really want to hear which courses everyone is taking this semester in college or at a university? Or who’s got which professor? Or the resounding silence with which I am received?
Who am I, anyway? I used to have a name, an identity, friends and a family. And people wanted to know what was happening in my life!
Today I have D. That’s all, besides myself. And ‘MRS’ emblazoned somewhere on my person or hovering above my head.
I know D is interesting. Have they already decided I’m not? Maybe they’re afraid of me. And where are all the women? Aren’t any of these men married? They seem to be allergic to me. Why am I here?
I move a bit closer to D. At least he knows who I am. D reaches his arm around me, smiles, and keeps talking. I think he wants to reassure me.
I’m thrilled to be married to D. But why do people look past me to D when we’re together? Some just walk on by without even acknowledging me. Am I invisible? I know I’m much shorter than D. But surely they see me! Am I that uninteresting?
After several weeks, it seems everybody knows D’s name. I can count on less than one hand how many know mine and actually talk to me. Though when they do talk to me, it’s usually about D! What am I? A robot? A decoration?
I tell D how I feel about this. He sees it, too. He tries to include me in conversations. Most of the time this works for about two seconds. It’s all in the eyes that look away, refocusing on D.
Sometimes I wish I hadn’t come.
To be continued. . . .
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 24 April 2015
Photo credit: DAFraser, Spring 1966 (Park Street Church), and
http://www.city-data.com (Boston Street Map 1960s)
April 24, 2015
Durgin Park Dining Room | Memories
~~~Durgin Park Waiting Line, mid-1960s
The line says it all. This place is popular! Looks like a Sunday dinner crowd to me. A Boston landmark, before this area was gentrified and lost its true Boston charm. One of our favorite memories.
When you get to the door, you still have to Read the rest of this entry »
April 24, 2015
petrified pieces of my heart | Memories
“Petrified pieces of my heart.” Thank you, Mahmoud Darwish, for words that still move me to tears and help me better understand your exile and the importance of keeping lost memories alive.
In the opening pages of his Journal of an Ordinary Grief, Mahmoud Darwish writes these haunting words: Read the rest of this entry »
April 23, 2015
Why I love this photo
I hate having my picture taken, even when I want to have it taken. I carry in my mind an image of myself. Not what I see in the mirror, but the ‘who I really am’ image.
Smiling, relaxed, interested in you, expressive, not too toothy or grinny. Read the rest of this entry »
April 23, 2015
Early Marriage | Part 1
Tybee Island, August 1963,
two years before our wedding
Do I really want to write about this? Yes, I do! I’m ready to try sorting out what sometimes seemed bizarre. That would be our first year of marriage, 1965-66, especially as it impacted me.
Here’s how I see it. Read the rest of this entry »
April 22, 2015
young man sits fishing
young man sits fishing
perched on broken building blocks
subduing rough sea
* * *
The young man is one of two people we spotted fishing on this side of the sea wall. Read the rest of this entry »
April 22, 2015
The Dean and I | My Best Boss
Langdell Hall, Harvard Law School
What was it about this man who made such a deep impression on me? I tried making some lists. I didn’t throw them away, but I wasn’t happy with them. They’re too cerebral. So I’m going with my gut on this one.
Here’s what I would say to Mr. Griswold today. Granted, I’ve had decades to think about it. Yet only now, after writing about the Dean and I, have I begun to appreciate our relationship.
#1. You were my best Boss ever.
Of all the bosses I’ve had, you were the best. I never told you about my first Boss, and you never asked. I’ll just say that your ways of being Boss were very different. The rest of my talking points highlight several ways you stand out as the best.
#2. You didn’t have issues with women.
I never cringed or felt pressured to humor you by demeaning myself or laughing at other people. You were more than a decent man. You were a decent human being, part of the human race. Not a superior being who needed to put other people down to feel powerful. There were no bad jokes about women, or other unwanted behavior. Do you know how rare this is? I do.
#3. You demanded a lot from me, yet you didn’t sweat my mistakes.
I didn’t feel shamed or laughed at. Nor did I fear for my job. You knew more than how to run the Harvard Law School; you knew how to run the office! You were a practical, experienced realist who wasn’t afraid to make your own mistakes and learn from them. Given my up and down history with male bosses, this impresses me.
#4. You combined personal humility with fierce professional resolve.
You didn’t take personal credit for the good, and you didn’t back off from making difficult decisions. That’s because it was never all about you. It was about where we were going and how we would get there together. In the office, not just in the law school. You were uneasy with the limelight; I liked that. It let me know that’s OK in a leader.
#5. Did you know you were my mentor?
You were. I didn’t think about you that way, but I believe it’s true. You didn’t tell me how to run an office. You showed me how you did it. You took things as they came, with calm thoughtfulness. This sometimes went against the atmosphere in the office or in the law school. I’d like to think I learned a little about that from you.
#6. Best of all, you wrote me that letter!
You didn’t just say kind words in front of other people, or sign a greeting card. And you didn’t dictate the letter to a secretary who typed it up for you to sign. You took time to hand-write it. Just for me. Not for my file or for a future employer. Just for me! No letter I’ve ever received from an employer comes close to yours.
Several times during my professional life I needed that letter. Not to show others, but to remind myself of what you saw in me. Even though I didn’t always pull it out to read, I think it was there in my subconscious, not just in my treasure box. A good antidote to other letters I received uninvited and threw away.
Right now I’m remembering you at your stand-up desk every evening, making sure you’ve written all those personal thank-letters to donors, or added your signature and a little note on other letters. The personal touch. That’s what it was all about. Relationships of mutual trust and appreciation. Kind words, always truthful. Thank you for inviting me to be part of your life. You were a blessing I never expected.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 20 April 2015
Telling the Truth 