September 26, 2024
The Janus-faces of Grief
A Legacy of Love
by Bruce Hawkins
Professor Emeritus of Physics
Smith College
My bride sleeps in our Quaker burying ground under her blanket of snow, surrounded by dear friends. As she wandered deep into the fog of dementia, her care was a loving task for me; for her, a quiet rest after a life together striving to heal the wounds of the world. A 66 year long love affair founded on trusting each other and freeing each other to thrive.
For years I wondered if I were capable of grief, feeling little as six parents slipped away, one by one. First my mother Doris, two weeks after I was born, the victim of medical ignorance, leaving me to the care of grandparents and aunts. Then it was my grandfather Jimmy as I went off to college. Then it was his sweet Susy as I went off to graduate school. Next it was my Aunt Elsie as I began life as a father. Then my own father Bill, and finally my Aunt Jean. Grief seems to have fallen asleep with my mother, awakening with my bride’s departure.
My bride has woven her threads into the fearsome and beautiful tapestry of the world and joined all those before us, leaving the world to make room for us who remain. Soon I will complete my own weaving and leave. With the shuttle of memory, I weave in the threads of her legacy of love, hoping to leave a similar legacy to those who will remember us.
Grief seemed to me something that other people did. Yet as my bride ventured into the fog, I saw the past more clearly, the future still dimly. Her anxiety over the world’s wounds died away and her inner sweetness, long shadowed by the blindness of our imperfections, showed its shining face. Now relieved of the exigencies of negotiating a life together, I appreciate her in a new way, cherishing the memories.
We were devoted to each other and we battled with each other. We spent many quiet hours just enjoying each other's presence. Many busy hours were spent supporting each other, maintaining her mailing lists, printing leaflets for our community’s peace vigil, understanding where we went wrong with our daughters, visiting the Immigration Service with an undocumented refugee. We never gave up even at the times we were furious with each other.
My bride (and I) nurtured an undocumented refugee family for two decades as the endless process of getting documents stretched out. Their son Carlos, 3 years old when they came 40 years ago, cried as he and his father helped carry her to her grave. I too wept as I caressed her head for the last time through the shroud.
Now as she lies under the snow, my grief looks forward, her legacy of love enhancing my tenderness to the world, its imperfections, its beauties, and its people. Remembering her has given me a wonderful new gift of mindfulness to see God’s mysterious beauty in places and people as I never have before. Grief looks forward, inspiring me to continue working in an organization she loved. She was a warrior against the world’s injustices, and I was her helpmeet. I carry forward her passion, still weaving it into the tapestry of the world’s beauty.
June 10, 2024
Pickleball: Thoughts from a Beginner
by Lucy Greenburg
First, there’s the name. Pickleball. Honestly, who thought that up? In contrast to the condiment, there’s nothing crunchy, juicy, or even green about pickleball. And frankly, if there was a contest for wackiest game title I wouldn’t know which to bet on -pickleball or tiddlywinks.
Yet it was the name, itself, that attracted me. With such a zany title the sport promised to be fun. I wanted to try it, but first I did my research. I found out that pickleball is a cross between tennis and ping pong. It’s played mostly with a partner and requires three things - a racquet, a whiffle-type ball, and a net. As with all racquet sports, the players who get the ball over the net the most, win.
As I surfed through photos, I noticed I had something in common with many of the players - gray hair. In addition to the lean, mean machines of younger generations, there were many others who (like me) appeared somewhat more weathered. One man wore a Grateful Dead T-shirt so faded it looked like he bought it back in the Woodstock days.
Obviously, this was my crowd.
So one day not long ago I showed up at Look Memorial Park in Florence which hosts free open pickleball play for levels from beginner and up. Every court was filled. Balls zinged back and forth. Through my newbie’s eyes, it seemed that everyone but me knew exactly what to do. My mojo began to fade. I headed toward a bench where I assumed that I would stay.
“We’ve got someone new,” a voice rang out. I watched the woman approach, racquet in hand. After she greeted me, I confessed that I had never played before. Quickly, she turned and walked away. Whoa! Talk about friendly! I started to pick up my things to go.
But a few seconds later she was back, along with two other players. Introductions followed, and I was given the basic rules of the game. Then quicker than a mosquito bites, it was time to play. Sure, I was nervous. Sure, I made mistakes. But running around made me feel like a kid again. And when I landed the ball in the court as opposed to out of it, I felt positively triumphant. When I actually scored a point (my one and only) not only did my partner cheer, my opponents did as well!
The fun of that first game was due as much to my fellow players as it was to the game itself. Generously, they extended to me their encouragement, guidance, and patience.
“Don’t worry,” they said. “We’ve all been where you are now. We were all beginners too.”
I’ve heard these sympathetic words or similar ones again and again. At Look Park and elsewhere. While I can't generalize from my limited experience, the camaraderie I’ve encountered in open play is much more than I expected. Everywhere I’ve been, players of all levels, including beginners, were made to feel welcome. As I carry on I continue to sense a spirit of goodwill and friendliness - just as I do with Northampton Neighbors.
According to the Sports & Fitness Industry Association, pickleball is the fastest-growing sport in the country. The number of “silver sneaker” players is large and growing. In recreational play, you can choose a relaxed, light-hearted game or more serious competition. Drop-in sessions open to the public seem fairly plentiful. To locate one, use the internet or contact local parks, recreation departments, community centers, and gyms. Ask fellow players when you find courts in your area. Clinics and lessons are available too.
Are you tempted to give it a try? Of course, before you lace up your shoes, check first with your healthcare provider.
Most of all, don’t worry. We’ve all been where you are now. We’ve all been beginners.