It's ALL About Love

I went to a memorial service this week for a long-time family friend, Louise Uphoff. She was an ardent progressive Democrat (with Socialist leanings). My parents were married on her in-law's farm 65 years ago, I used to babysit her firstborn child, and our paths crossed many times over the years, though as usual, not as often as I would have liked. At the service I learned that she was a passionate knitter who took her knitting to every meeting (including the Democratic National Convention, where she was a delegate); I never knew that we had that in common. I also learned that she loved Broadway show tunes (not me) and was an employee and proud member of the state teachers' union.

With the recall elections of 6 Republican state senators just days away, it was no surprise that amidst the tears and the funny stories, the service was really a rallying of We the People to renew our commitment to Democracy, to not give up the struggle because in the end, we on the Left are on the right side. Louise's husband, Charlie, wore a "Stand With Wisconsin" t-shirt to the service. The final eulogy was delivered by John Nichols, our Wisconsin-grown, progressive, Socialist journalist, and I don't think I was the only one to walk out feeling inspired and heartened.

When I was younger I avoided going to funerals. That was something the grown-ups -- i.e. my parents -- did. My parents have been gone a good many years now, and somehow I have become the person who goes to the funerals and memorial services of my parents' friends and associates, the representative of our family. (My oldest brother always goes too; the oldest and the youngest kids in the family -- I wonder if that fits some pattern in family psychology.) I started to do it because it felt like I should, to honor the interwoven threads that made up my parents', and thus, my history.

Along the way something funny happened. I started to like, no, love going to these services. Not in a Harold and Maude kind of way; funerals of strangers hold no attraction. I am a person who savors connections, and funerals are great places to reconnect, even for just a short time. When I see old friends of my parents I often feel like I've gotten in touch with a little piece of my parents whom I miss so much. And they're cathartic; a good cry is a good thing.

Maybe it's an age thing, but I have come to like funerals more than weddings. At the recent weddings I've attended, I often feel as if I have little in common with the bride and groom or their friends. In fact, it's often as if we middle-agéd people are invisible to them. (I suspect that will be different at my own kids' weddings, should they choose a state-sanctioned route.) Besides, 3 out of 4 weddings are destined to end in divorce. Call me cynical, but sometimes that pops into my head when I see all of the money being spent on wedding celebrations!

So I've become a fan of the well-thought-out goodbye.