ELDER PROSE INTERLUDE: My Twice-Lived Life

Thank you, Ronni, for giving us Donald M. Murray today. Like you, I discovered him around 2004 and saved his columns on my computer (my "then" computer). I had completely forgotten him and how much I enjoyed his writings--until today with this. All that I had saved is gone, a consequence of changing computers and not having everything transfer over, but with this reminder will seek out this book--perhaps others. Again, many thanks.

I remember reading May Sarton's "At 70" when I was around 45. It was so illuminating and beautifully written, and I started working with elders soon after that. Now I'm approaching 70 with chagrin, not having half the beautiful character she had. Just being older doesn't always mean wiser!

As a young woman, when I walked with my grandmother in her garden, she would excitedly tell me of her plans for the next spring's plantings. However, I was always dismayed when she would casually begin with, "If I live through this winter...."

Now, of course, I understand her perfectly. She wasn't frightened or depressed by the prospect, simply acknowledging reality, like rain or drought.

Donald Murray speaks for me.

How wonderful to see an excerpt from Donald Murray's book! Living in the greater Boston area and subscribing to the Boston Globe, I was a Murray fan for many years. It's nice to rediscover him.

I was so pleased to see Don Murray on your site that I just had to respond. Don and my husband, who died just recently, were lifelong friends. They met when both served in the paratroops in WWII. Don, although he never knew it, was responsible for our marriage.

I had discovered his Boston Globe columns through their insertion in an email newsletter a friend sent periodically. I loved his honesty as well as his marvelous writing. After the death of my husband of almost 25 years those columns became even more meaningful to me and at the end of December, 2006 I emailed my friend to thank him for providing Don Murray's columns and to tell him how much they meant to me. I said I wished I could tell him that.

About two hours later I had an email from someone who was a complete stranger to me. His name was Jim Mortensen. My friend, who it turned out was a mutual friend, had forwarded my email to Jim, a former neighbor of his in Westchester County who now lived on the West Coast of Florida. Jim explained in his email that he was the source of Don Murray's Boston Globe articles in our mutual friend's newsletter and suggested I tell him what I wanted to say to Don Murray and he would send it on. I did that. And it probably would have ended there. But three days later I had another email from Jim, with an attachment - Don Murray's obituary notice.

Of course it was a shock and I immediately wrote to express my condolences to Jim on the loss of this very special friend. He wrote back a few days later. Over a period of four months our correspondence went from every three or four days to every day and then several times a day. Each of us missed the spouse we had loved and lost, (for me it had been three years, for him four). Jim had taken early retirement from his position as chief financial officer and vice president of Young and Rubicam so he could become her primary caretaker, a role, friends and family have told me, that he had expressed with love and devotion for about 16 years. We became very special friends, feeling a true safety in revealing our personal thoughts and feelings, and thoroughly enjoying our exchange. Jim had a wonderful sense of humor. We realized as our correspondence continued that we both enjoyed so many of the same things - art, music, travel, reading, writing, etc. Then Jim wrote to tell me that he had just finished a Learning Company module on impressionist art and asked if I would like it next. I would and he was going to drop it in the mail. But then he wrote and suggested he bring it in person. We agreed that he would do that and so he drove from the Tampa Bay area to St. Augustine, and as they say, the rest is history. We were married on Sept. 15, 2007 in the presence of all the family and friends we could scarf up on relatively short notice, with my granddaughters as our beautiful flower girls, in a joyous ceremony in an art gallery in Brooklyn, New York just down the street from where my about to be son and daughter-in-law have lived for many years. Since she had her art in the gallery and he often read his poetry there, it was perfect. The ceremony, conducted by Jim's brother, was followed by an equally joyous luncheon at probably the best Italian restaurant in Brooklyn. But with a quick unplanned trip into Barnes and Noble on our walk to the restaurant from the gallery on that positively gorgeous Fall day, so that all of us could indulge. (We were a bit ahead of schedule).

So Don Murray has had a profound influence on my life, although I never met him. A sign that he gave Jim years ago saying "nulla dies sine linea" hangs over my computer. Jim passed on January 30 so our time together was relatively short, but it was so very special. Jim Mortensen was an amazing man and we were truly blessed to find each other.
I am very grateful.

Thanks for this wonderful post and spark for my next book purchase!

Great quotes, Ronni. And wow,Brenda, what a fabulous story!!

I would like to make three comments.

Thank you for your post Brenda. It is a lovely story and I never tire of hearing ones like yours. I'm sorry to hear that Jim is no longer with you, but happy for your serendipitous relationship with him via Don Murray and the computer.

Thanks, Ronni, for sharing another name that was unknown to me before this, but whom I am now looking forward to reading more about.

Last, I think I was most moved by these words of Don Murray's: “When the young politely look away from the old lady with the three-pronged cane, the man in the wheelchair, the woman with the walker in the doctor's waiting room, the radiation center, at the drug store, in the restaurant, I look them in the eye and speak."

To see the person who is more often ignored or avoided, whether due to homelessness, mental illness, being an obvious "outsider", physical disability, elderly or whatever it is that may not be in keeping with a person's perception of the "norm", is very admirable. Regardless of what the person looks like on the outside, they share more with us than some people care to admit. To see and acknowledge that person's humanity rather than to pretend they are invisible, avert one's eyes, or cross the street to avoid cossing paths, is, to me, one of the most admirable acts I can think of.

Fear of Bingo -- maybe I'll write a short story. When I retired and moved into an apartment complex for those 50 and over, I was told about the regular Tuesday night bingo in the meeting room. I thanked the neighbor who invited me to come along saying,"I'm not a bingo player." I was asked a time or two more by others, same answer. They accepted it and stopped inviting me.

Said my son-in-law, not entirely tongue-in-cheek, "When you start going to bingo I'll know you've given up." Truth is, all my life I've said no to a lot of pass-times I knew I might enjoy (bingo fits in that category) because I learned long ago to mete out my time to the things that I really enjoy. For the same reason I don't ski or play golf or tennis although the latter might be good for me. Reading is more satisfying than bingo and walking lets me think while I get some exercise and also observe the world around me. I chose my activities for the long term pleasure, not for the quick thrill of shouting Bingo!

Your choices of voices suit me well. Resonate well. Thank you.

Thank you so very much for your post today about Donald Murray. I read him for years in the Boston Globe and when he died I felt like I lost a best friend!

Everything he ever wrote had meaning to me, whether they were serious or funny, loved them all.

And one that you mentioned today really hit home, "Oh, to be seventy again!!"

I don't think I ever read anything by Don Murray, but he seems like a writer I'd want to read. I loved Brenda Verbeck's story and the other comments.