35 - Friendships

Friendships

Where did I find this? (I don’t know.) How long have I had it? (A very long time.) Why have I kept it? (It’s one of my dear treasures.) Perhaps it is time to share it. (I think so.)

So here I sit, in front of my computer, and wonder how to begin. I think it’s fair to say that I found it at least thirty years ago, but how I found it is totally vague.

I can only be certain of one thing and that is that I love the words and completely agree with the concepts. I have used it once as a Christmas greeting and that, perhaps, is when I put it into a large manila envelope and filed it away. It is recently that I found it again, said “Oh My. It’s a long time since I’ve read you, my friend.” And I began reading it.

GREETING

I salute you. I am your friend and my love for you goes deep. There is nothing I can give you which you have not got; but there is very much that, while I cannot give it, you can take…. No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in today. Take heaven! No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present instant. Take Peace! The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within our reach, is joy. There is radiance and glory in the darkness, could we but see, and to see we have only to look. I beseech you to look.

Life is so generous a giver, but we judging its gifts by their covering, cast them away as ugly or heavy or hard. Remove the covering and you will find beneath it a living splendour, woven of love, by wisdom with power. Welcome it, grasp it, and you will touch the angels hand that brings it to you. Everything we call a trial, a sorrow, or a duty, believe me, that angels hand is there; the gift is there, and the wonders of an over-shadowing Presence.

Our joys too: be not content with them as joys. They too, conceal diviner gifts. Life is so full of meaning and purpose, so full of beauty, beneath its covering, that you will find earth but cloaks your heaven. Courage then to claim it: that is all! But courage you have, and the knowledge that we are pilgrims together, wending through an unknown country, home. And so, at this time I greet you. Not quite as the world sends greeting, but with profound esteem and with the prayer that for you, now and forever, the day breaks, and the shadows flee away.

From a letter written by Fra Giovanni 1513 A.D.

34 - Eleanor, Honoring a Great Lady

Eleanor, Honoring a Great Lady

This story goes back a long way and worth repeating. It begins with World War II when all who were unable to be in the military to serve their country, did serve by working for aircraft companies. There were many such companies here in San Diego and most of my family worked at either Consolidated or Rohr Aircraft.

My uncle Leo worked at Rohr Aircraft on airplane engines. There he spent many hours and frequent overtime to provide faster and newer planes for our overseas pilots. He was the oldest of my four uncles and, in my mind, the sweetest. He was handsome, kind, a great father of a two-½ year old boy and new baby girl, and a loving husband. The kind I could only dream of having when I married.

One day, while Leo was working on an engine, a crank turned too quickly and with great force hit Leo in the groin. At first the injury did not appear to be too serious, however his pain continued to grow more severe. As time went on he became weaker and quieter and we, as a family, became more and more concerned.

I was there, with the rest of the family, the day he was taken to the hospital. All sitting in a waiting room and frightened with hands wringing and tears flowing. Not really knowing what was wrong until we were informed that Leo had tubercular meningitis, a deadly disease with little or no hope. How did he get it, where did it come from, did the crank accident have anything to do with it? Many questions and no answers. We didn’t know all of the medical details. We only knew that nothing and no one at this hospital was able to help him.

We were literally told that he was dying. That there was no hope. It was then that my mother said, “The only hope we have is getting the penicillin for him. The doctors say that it’s impossible to get it. But there must be a way.” That was when penicillin had just entered the medical world. It was only available to the military. No effort on the part of the family brought to us this last chance for Leo’s life. This new miracle drug might be the only way to save him. Why were we being denied it?

The stress and the pain and the despair became more than I could handle. I wanted to help my grandmother, but she was beyond help. So too was my mother. She had tried to find a solution. We knew that she had contacted the military but to no avail. “If only we knew someone in authority like the Governor or maybe even the Mayor. Maybe they would help us.” She had tried and they could not. I needed to leave the waiting room and be quietly by myself. Slowly I walked away and down the hall. I stopped at the door of Leo’s room and offered a silent prayer to God. “Please, Dear God, don’t take Leo from us. He’s so young and his family needs him. Please take me instead.”

My prayers seemed futile. All I could hope for was help getting the penicillin. I stood there praying as my eyes wandered to the other side of the sick rooms. There, nestled between two rooms, was a phone booth. Not a pay phone. Just a phone to be used to make a call. Why not? I thought to myself. Why not? I entered the booth and picked up the phone to inform the operator that I wanted to reach the offices of Eleanor Roosevelt in Washington, D.C.

Eventually a phone rang and in time was picked up. A voice answered, “Eleanor Roosevelt’s Office, may I help you.”

“May I speak with Eleanor Roosevelt please,” I asked.

The reply was, “She is not available right now. Perhaps I can help you.”

I told her the story of Leo. I told her about the babies who needed him. I told her that there was a whole family crying and suffering at the thought of losing him. I told her that he worked at building airplanes to help support his country. Now I was asking for his country to support him and to find release of the penicillin so that we may have a chance of saving his life. I finished by saying, “I know that Eleanor Roosevelt would help me. Is there no way I can reach her?”

“Please hold for a few minutes,” came the reply and I waited. It seemed that I waited a very long time before another voice came on the line.

“Is this Vailia?” the voice asked and there was no mistaking. It was the voice of Eleanor Roosevelt. The unmistakable sound of her very different voice.

“Well” she said, after I replied “you will have your penicillin in San Diego tomorrow morning. We must send it from here and a member of the Naval Hospital will pick it up. You should receive it about 10:00 in the morning. I’m so sorry about your uncle. I hope this helps him and your family.” I had only a moment to thank her and bless her and let her know that I would never forget her kindness. Then we said goodbye.

Mother was waiting outside the phone booth door. She had worried about me being gone for so long. Then I told her about Eleanor and our miracle and together we went back to the waiting room to tell the others. She spoke and I watched in wonder as hope began to cover their faces. We were going to get the miracle drug that could save our Leo’s life.

The penicillin did arrive on time. The doctors at Leo’s hospital refused to use it. They tried to explain that he was too far-gone. That he was brain dead. That it was too late
for any effort to save him. That the penicillin could best be used by others who needed it. I was frightened and angry. Why couldn’t they at least try? It took years before I forgave them and realized that they were right. Our precious Leo died a very short time later. It has also taken years for me to try to let others know about Eleanor Roosevelt.

She was more than our First Lady. She belonged to the world as a leader, as a strong but gentle woman, as a woman of kindness and compassion. She came closer to being a saint than anyone I knew before our conversation or have known since. She is, and will remain, my example of a truly wonderful and amazing woman…She spoke to me.

33 - Holiday

Holiday

I found this again and realized that I had enjoyed having it and sending it to those I hold dear. It’s meaningful to me in that it hold so very true for those who celebrate Chanukah and those who do not. Friendship knows no bonds. Friendship creates many of the joys and delights that live constantly in your memory and in your present.

THE LIGHT OF FRIENDSHIP SHINES BRIGHTLY

A very wise Rabbi used to tell this story:

His teacher, a very wise and holy man,
was walking home one night during Chanukah.
The street he traveled was narrow and lit
only by the glimmer of the menorahs people
placed in their windows. One house, however,
seemed to glow more brightly than the others,
even though its menorah was plain and its
candles small.

The rabbi wondered at the light and finally
decided to inquire. He knocked on the door,
and when it was opened, the rabbi heard voices
and laughter inside the house.

"My friend," the rabbi asked the man, "What do
you do to give this house such a holy light?"

"I do not know," the man replied. "We are simply
friends, telling stories of our years together."

Then the Rabbi knew the source of the houses
radiance - for whenever friends are together
they shine with the same light as all things
divine.

And so you are to me. my friend, a sign on this
earth that the universe is good and rightly made.

32 - Me

Me

I was born in Canton, Ohio on April 11th 1919 to Abe and Myrtle Goodfriend. Imagine growing up with the last name of Goodfriend especially with a father who's first initial was A. There was a very wonderful large family around me. Four great-grandparents, four grandparents, numerous uncles and aunts and of course, Mother and Father and all involved with naming the first little girl in a very long time. It was my grandfather, Hyman, who insisted that I be named for his Bubba (Grandmother) Velia and the doctor, who at the end of three days, asking my Hebrew name decided to settle the arguments between Valerie, Victoria, Virginia, etc. by simply naming me Vailia. (This finally allowed him to file the certificate of my birth and comply with the three-day law.)

Father's family all lived in Chicago, Mother's in Canton and I and my brother, Marshall (who much of the time we call Buddy) moved back and forth between cities. When I was ten and Marshall was six we made our way to California to join Mother's parents in Los Angeles. It was October 1929 when we arrived, still in the great depression, and a time to learn and grow with survival skills.

As a seriously ill child, I was denied the experience of any type of exercise, no gym in school, no dancing lessons, no swimming, no bicycling and a prognosis of death at an early age....with the warning "should I survive and marry, no children" (the kidneys would not stand the strain.) I fooled them all and am the delighted parent of a son and daughter, the ecstatic grandmother of Tavis, Vailia and Lindsay, and the proud great-grandmother of Laura.

Early on, I became a jack-of-all-trades and master of few, writing poetry by the time I was five, creating a doll wedding-gown cut from my great-grandmother's French lace curtains (this did have repercussions), wrapping gift-boxes at seventeen for the Christmas windows of a major department store, becoming active in my family's drug stores in 1938 in San Diego, joining the work-force in aerospace during World War II, marrying, having children, involving them and myself in activities at Temple Beth Israel for 18 years, opening the first boutique in San Diego, becoming involved with community affairs, receiving a key to the city from Mayor Dahl, and much more including laying the ground-work for women, as outside sales-representatives, by being the first women hired by 3M Company in the Los Angeles area for that position. 

I've tried to make this short, but 85years is a long time to live, with many experiences and many opportunities. I've faced joys and tragedies, adventures and boredom, expectations and broken dreams, and survived to this day with hope for the future and a love affair with life.

31 - Yesterday

Yesterday

Every so often something occurs that I had thought about forty years ago. It happened again yesterday as I watched PBS presenting a lecture by Suze Orman. “Say your name” is what she told the crowd of women in front of her. There were gasps of dismay and a few giggles and you knew they thought she was joking. But all those years ago I shared the same thought with my Metaphysical students and when they questioned whether I was serious. I was.

That was when I might silently have said “Vailia” and then recalled whoVailia is. She was then a young woman living in West Virginia with her two small children. Robin was three and Bruce was five and she had run away from an ugly divorce. But that was not what I was saying to myself. What I was saying, that day long ago, was “Vailia, I know who Vailia is. She’s a gentle, loving mother who does not get angry with her children as she did today. She always treats them gently with a lot of love and understanding.” Knowing that, I often reminded myself that I was Vailia before I allowed me to confront an angry or upset child. That was a sweet and peaceful time.

I forgot being Vailia when we lived through the difficult teen-age years and today I wish I had remembered. During my years as a 3M representative I used it occasionally when facing a difficult customer. Interestingly my being Vailia often worked there too.

======

Immediately following the Suze Orman hour another interesting hour began. This one was devoted to changing your brain. I listened and again was astonished that the concept of ‘Change Your Brain, Change Your Life” took me back in time again… Back to the time when I explained to my students that many bibles tell us that we have a matter of choice. That always offers us two possibilities.

What I knew then was that we had two choices concerning our brains. One was to be controlled by our brain, the other was to control our brain. I explained that our worries and fears were all related to our brain controlling us. An example is that I am now dying and with my brain having control I could be frightened, very ill and aware of impending death. With me in control I am still living, enjoying my friends and family, and controlling my illness as well as I can. No negative thoughts…no fear…no waiting to die.

Of course there are serious problems that need to be worked out. Even then, with the brain under your control, the path is easier and solved more quickly. Nothing is more difficult than a negative brain trying to solve a problem. Nothing is more harmful than a depressed brain interfering with your life. The control that is yours offers a peaceful and comfortable existence.

Both the above items have books that hit the bestseller list. I have only one question,

“WHAT TOOK THEM SO LONG?”

30 - Birthdays

Birthdays

I’ve always loved birthdays. It started when I was very young, and because it was in April the lilac bushes bloomed and the peony blossoms opened in all their glory, I thought spring was the most beautiful time of the year. I still do and still love my birthday. Once year I decided to write a poem to express my joy of life and my growing old.

The Birthday

They talk about ‘as time goes by’
It’s true, the years just seem to fly
as you are growing old.
It’s not as bad as it may seem,
you’ve answered many of your dreams
And now have other stories to be told.

Your loved ones still can fill a room
and leave no space for feeling gloom
they really are the treasures of your life.
The books you’ve read, the plays you’ve seen
the beauty of an ocean scene
have washed away the times of pain and strife.

Remembering now is what takes place
when you have time and you have space
to recall all the things that you have done.
And in your quiet reverie
it all returns to family.
How precious to your heart is every one.

So facing yet another year
and being with those you hold dear
Is not a time for sorrow or regret.
Instead the future still is there
you want to grow and want to share
Your life’s adventure is not over yet.

Written in 1996

29 - My Drummer's March

My Drummer's March

There are times when I find that marching to a different drummer…living as I see my life…not relenting…not weakening…can be misinterpreted as to who I really am and what I am facing. Today I must acknowledge that my strength is my weakness and that those who care about me my fail to understand where my differences take me.

My condition is no longer simply a matter of being able to handle pain or physical weakness or facing approaching death without fear. I am actively determined that I remain who I am in soul, if not in body. I believe that doing so allows all the good that comes into my life. So when those who come to visit arrive my thoughts go into a place of pleasure at their being with me. I’m more concerned about them than about me. I enjoy the camaraderie and I delight in their presence. I move into a new place and stay there until they leave. I find that sitting with my oxygen is better than walking, so I sit.

Is my present condition alarming? No, but it is there and only visible to those who spend much time with me in my home. Most of the time I can only walk short distances without causing palpitations, shortness of breath and light-headedness. It seems that body movements create physical disturbances. I have chronic headaches that change in degrees of severity, jaw pain, eye impairment which may result in migraine auras, back pain caused by fractured vertebrae from the base of my skull to the coccyx bone at the end of my spine. My physical symptoms are also the result of osteoporosis, arthritis and scoliosis, but I don’t give them great concern. My brain is still there and working just fine, or so says the drums of my Drummer.

There is, however, a flaw in the way I’ve been handling everything. The flaw became apparent when the Hospice nurse informed me that I had become stable so she would no longer need to see me weekly but every other week. I didn’t object to the change but I couldn’t understand. With more pain and more recovery time after eating, all intensified and new, what she said didn’t make sense. I related her statement to my daughter and closest friend. They came up with what makes perfect sense. They asked if I had ever complained. The answer was no. They asked if I had been honest about what was happening to me. Again the answer was no. Then they asked me how anyone could know what was really going on with me if I didn’t tell them. To that I had no answer.

They were right, of course. I’ve been too proud to become a complainer. It’s not like me to burden others with my problems, not even my very special doctor and friend, Even with him I’m not completely honest. I gloss over my discomforts so I don’t appear to be an old women in his sight. I realize that I need to change my behavior. But the truth is that I don’t know if I can do that. I’m afraid of not letting things remain just as they are so that I can continue to enjoy my life, my family and my friends, just as I do now.

Wait! My Drummer is playing. I forgot to take my morning meds, but that’s only sign of old age.