Celebrating Michael

(As Lilah knows, I generally try not to give too much specific information about people I write about here, since I have not asked permission to spread names all over the internet.  In the case of this story, it will be a deliberate act of omission not to use Michael's whole name because we call him by both his first and last name, even at the dinner table sometimes.)

There could easily be 40 or 50 different versions of this story, since we came from all different directions, with a multitude of connections through time, but this is the one I know.

A few months ago we got an invitation by email to a surprise birthday party for my mother's husband Michael.  All the time we have known him, he has had a conflicted feeling about birthdays and in particular, about celebrating his own.  He has some reluctance to confront the numbers, although I haven't heard about that for a while so perhaps he is more at peace with that aspect now that he has fully achieved the status of a perpetually youthful Something Year Old.  He also seems to have a hard time wanting to be the focus of a celebration, unlike other people.  Jon is exactly like that too, actually.

So, anyway, I was a little dubious about the surprise part.  But since I wasn't the planner, I let that go.  His children were doing the planning and they clearly know him best.  They sensibly planned it to coincide with the annual gathering for the seder, when people come from all over the country to make matzoh balls and charoset together, and to sit down with their Reconstructionist siddur that was printed in 1941.  For all I know, one of the traditions is to have a surprise party for Michael.

We said we would be there.  There was a ripple effect on the traditions here in Virginia, since our gracious hosts for second night seder then shifted their seder to the third night of Passover so we could all be together. Have our cake and eat it too, so to speak.

As it happened, Stephen had a reason to go to New York on the same weekend so we made a complicated plan that would accommodate all of our needs.  We dropped off a vehicle at the Union Station parking lot yesterday morning and drove to New York.  While Jon drove, I knitted and Stephen worked in the back seat on one of his many art projects, this one involving vice grips and lots of wire.

We found a parking place and had time to walk around in Central Park for an hour or so.  Stephen says he has been to New York five times now, and three of those times he has happened to visit the site that honors John Lennon -- a spot labeled Strawberry Fields with a large tiled circle on the ground with only the word IMAGINE in the middle. We sat on a bench and listened to an elderly gentleman singing Beatles tunes, accompanying himself on the guitar.

As we were walking to the hotel, I started to think about who might be at this party. I hadn't had any contact with anyone, other than Josh the eldest son, by evite.  But I realized that it was quite likely my brother Charles would be there, knowing him.  And then I decided that Chip and Susan would be there too.

Sure enough, there they all were in the lobby.  We followed directions and scooted down a dark hallway to the party room where we hung around with more people that we knew.  It gradually became clear to some of us that Michael must have figured it out by now since he had seen many of these people in the last few days, although no one had made any reference to this event.

Michael made a nice display of being pleasantly surprised, and I am sure he was, in some ways. There were people there, including those of us from home, who he did not expect.

His lovely granddaughters had voluntarily learned some songs to perform, and Michaela had even learned to play the guitar for the occasion. They could not have asked for a more appreciative audience. They had several sets of grandparents in attendance, uncles, aunts, everyone there has known them since they were born. They may be haunted for the rest of their lives by the videos, but they did beautifully.

And then there were the stories and the tributes.  It was this part of the evening that made it The Place To Be. It is a rare moment when we are allowed to tell one person how much he means to us.  He had friends there who had known him for 60 years.  The elders told funny stories, the next generation (including me) was mostly less funny but very direct and open about our gratitude for all that Michael has brought to us.  Michael accepted all of it with grace. He said, "I hope everyone gets to have a moment like this." 



Because this is my story, I will say that I sat there for a long time trying to come up with one perfect illustration of who Michael is for our family. I couldn't do it. I especially couldn't come up with anything funny.  But as I sat there I came to realize how much he has woven himself into our very strong and self-assured family -- by virtue of his patient, kind, calm, generous, humble nature.  He is so different from the rest of us in almost every way and yet he has found himself a place in our midst, and we are so glad.  First, of course, glad for Mom.  But I also realized how rock solid he has been for all the grandchildren.  Because he works with us, he suffers many judgments from all sides (including the grandchildren, but I didn't say that), but he is so incredibly gracious about every bit of it. And all the grandchildren have had a consistent, attentive, loving grandfather figure in their lives.  What a gift.



I have said this on many occasions and I repeat it again -- when you are choosing someone to marry, there are two non-negotiable traits that your potential partner must have.  The person must be kind and smart.  As I tell my kids all the time, you can't teach either one of those.  And when I say smart, I specifically mean "as smart as you."  Not the exact same kind of smart, but both parties must believe in the depths of their souls that the other person is equal, and I am mostly talking about intellectually.  Of course there are other kinds of intelligence, but our family requires intellectual  compatibility, and I believe that is true of every happy couple.  Mom and Michael found each other and knew they were lucky.



Anyway, it was a lovely evening all around.  Jon and I had to catch a 9:30 bus and of course we left the table at the last possible minute. Then, as anyone would expect who follows our travel stories, the subway line was disrupted by something and we had to get off at 42nd St instead of 34th, which meant that we had to hustle eight blocks down plus three blocks across. Not my favorite thing, hustling. But we got to the bus just as it was about to leave, and all was well.

Those buses are amazing. They certainly make the trip between DC and NY a non-issue financially, and so far our experience has been great.

We left our car parked on the street, Stephen spent the night with Jesse and will  go to JFK to pick up his girlfriend and they will come back to Virginia today.  All very complicated, but that's how we roll.