The 24th day of October 1996 marked the end of at least twenty-four years that Judy served me. We say “at least” since neither of us can specifically recall the starting date in 1972. There was a hiatus in 1981 when she gave birth to her son Brian. She was never absent for illness that I can recall. She was a secretary, a para-legal, and someone my mother would have liked very much, because she always kept me on the straight and narrow path. She had a pleasing personality that would listen to old complainers and the complimenting ones with the same cheery disposition. We had a standing joke, June and I, whenever I would call, from wherever, to see if everything was going all right…she never said “Yes, I have a problem” It was always “No, nothing important has happened” or “So & so called or did this, and I took care of it!” So June would question, “Why bother to call and bother her?? After all these years you should know who really runs “your” office!!” How right she was!
She left to begin a full time job with a firm in Bensalem. She had been the last three years only working from 8:30AM to 3:00PM, Tuesday through Thursday. She will continue to help close my files with part time work in the evenings and some Saturdays.
When she first came in 1972 Pat Rice had been with me nine years. Upon learning this, Judy exclaimed, “No way am I going to be working for nine years!” or words to that effect. You can be sure, we have mentioned this several times in the past year as we headed down to the her last day It was now nearly ”24″ years. She not only stayed nine years she almost tripled Pat’s stay! Her story and her stay reminded me of what I was told about Miriam Garvin, one of Dad’s secretaries. She came the summer of ’29 the year I was born with the idea of a summer job to help Rebecca, who had been with Dad for a time beyond the memory of man. When I left the Marine Corps in 1958 to begin practice, she, Miriam, was still there! She left shortly after I came and went to work for a Judge.
Judy will be one of the things I will miss about not practicing law. It will be one of a few. I will miss helping people, though I can still do that in other ways. I will miss some acquaintances the law allowed me to make.
I had my last adoption in Philadelphia. There is one more in Bucks County. It was before Judge Esther Sylvester. My clients were surprised as we entered to see the Judge rise from her seat at the head of the table, and give me a hug. Adoption hearings are held in Conference Rooms. She, her “Honoress” (as I called her), also was “surprised” since in May I told her that it was my last adoption! I had forgotten about this DPW one. I explained to my clients later that Judge Esther Sylvester is a “legal-daughter” in that back in the sixties by happy accident I moved for her admission to the bar of the Common Pleas Court in Philadelphia. My name therefore will forever appears on her certificate of admission as the mover, or her “legal-father”, to the Common Pleas Court of Philadelphia. This is the same court in which she now sits as a Judge.
These kinds of memories and such happenings I will miss. I’ll miss the joy of being with new parents as the Judge says, “Well, she or he, is all yours now! We did the easy part the rest is up to you!” The love that flows in and from those new parents and that child lights up your life. I often remarked to them or others a thought my Dad used in talking to adoptees who later started searching for their natural parents. He would note that those adopting parents very thoughtfully and carefully decided they wanted to have a child. In a great number of cases the addition to the family is not a thoughtful and careful event. So you, he would say, are very special and remember that as you seek to find your natural parent.
I miss the thank you’s when I helped locate siblings or natural parents for adoptees. The only time I really did assist is when the adopting parents agreed and usually participated in the enterprise, or were deceased. These things I remember and will miss.
There are many such memories that I’ll continue to enjoy but there are enough unpleasant ones that make leaving easier – easier than I had originally supposed. The leaving gives me more time to “admire how much stuff (I am) made of”. This line, a bit altered, is from an essay by Roger Rosenblatt which in full reads: “One of the pleasures of growing old is to be able to admire how much stuff you are made of, how much material has been collected in one’s brain over the decades. Personal history. Images. Songs. Paintings. Odd disconnected information”
The idea recently became a humorous reality for me. I purchased a new fake book for the piano. It is called “Fake Book of the World’s Favorite Songs”. It has gems like The Grandfather’s Clock, (you remember “…tic-tack, tic-toe, ninety years without slumbering…”), On Moonlight Bay, Sweet Adeline, Cuddle Up A Little Closer, I’ll Take You Home Again Kathleen, and even Happy Birthday, Chopsticks and Eensey Weensey Spider (I always thought it was Itsy-bitsy Spider). The one however that brought on the laugh was the “The Sweetheart of Sigma Chi”. As I played it I could only think of the parody of it we used to sing.
The words of the song (you’ll have to provide the tune) are: “…the girl of my dreams is the sweetest girl I know, Each sweet coed, like a rainbow trail, fades in the after glow, The blue of her eyes and the gold of her hair, are blend of the western sky; And the moonlight beams on the girl of my dreams, She’s The Sweetheart Of Sigma Chi.”
As I played the song the words “we” used to sing came to mind and I laughed. It went something like this: “…the girl of my dreams is the sweetest girl I know, Each time we meet, like a dog in heat, her eyes have a funny glow! The blue of hair and the gold of her eyes is enough to horrify! She drinks and she smokes, and she tells dirty jokes, She’s the sweetheart of six other guys!
I suppose that’s some of the “stuff (I’m) made of” collected in my brain over the decades. What I trying to do now with my leisure is to replace some of such vital “stuff”. It is questionable whether it is working, since recently I’ve laughed aloud on reading some Dorothy Parker’s caustic and sarcastic verse. One of her one-liners when asked to use the word “horticulture” in a definitive sentence said: “You can lead ahorti-culture, but you can’t make her think!”
My reading continues to be varied and interesting. I am still studying “God, a biography”, laughing and cringing as I visit Limerick, Ireland in the 40’s through the eyes and ears of a young Frank McCourt in “Angela’s Ashes” and just ambled through a short bio on Dorothy Parker, entitled “Not Much Fun”. The book on Dorothy Parker also contains some of her lost verses. She is the one we noted in the last paragraph her using of the word ”horticulture”.
For the reading of my children and friends I am enclosing a short bio and tribute to Sister Therese. It was composed and written by Sister Rosemary and is being mailed to all of the immediate family. It is a beautiful testament to Therese and it is very well written. It glows with feelings of love and grabs you right from the first few lines. I have that on my own authority and from a report June gave me after reading it. She noted it was un-authored so I did a bit of detective work and found out it was Roie by calling her. I applaud her skill with words and look for more.
The month is halfway gone. We have remembered Mom’s passing and Kate’s birthday on the 15th. We will remember Therese (18th), Ron & Mary became one on the 12th and now will be four; and Frank’s (20th), as the month moves on. We hope you all enjoy Thanksgiving and give Thanks. We can also report that Win and the girls, Allen’s that is, have returned from a “Little Bit of Heaven”. We await their full report.
Speaking of Ireland, reminds me of an observation some wag (or was it “wit”) made: “You can always tell the Irish, but you can’t tell them much!” See ya!!