After a lovely
weekend, with temperatures near 50o even in the Boston area, we are
bracing for a return of winter weather, with more snow on the way. As I watch a
couple of friends trying to deal with medical issues during or between these
storms, I am very grateful that the acute phase of my cancer – the first six
months or so – was during the six months between early spring and early fall. At
least Barry did not have to add treacherous driving to and from Memorial
Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center to his already overloaded list of
responsibilities.
While Simmie and
family spent the weekend with relatives in New York, Barry and I stayed in
Sharon. We had dinner Friday night with Dina, Aaron, Joshua, and Ella, and then
the children had lunch with us while their parents ate with friends who have
only younger children. Later in the afternoon we headed back over to Dina’s
house so the children could put on their snow pants and boots and play outside,
and we stayed there until after Sabbath.
On Saturday night we
were anxious to watch the end of the two week college tournament on Jeopardy,
which we had taped on Friday evening, and the young woman we favored won! Then
on Sunday morning we returned to New York, where I spent the better part of the
day catching up on bills and trying to pull income tax documents together and
make copies of them.
My dear friend Michal
sent an e-mail telling of a recent incident involving a pot of eggs inadvertently
left boiling on the stove. This could have been a tragic disaster but
fortunately no one was hurt, although the mess of exploded eggs was quite an
undertaking to clean.
This reminded me of
an incident that happened back in 1975. We had been married a little over two
years and lived in University Park, a garden apartment complex that was part of
the University of Rochester student housing. We had a downstairs one-bedroom
apartment, and our friends Sharon and Marty lived around the other side of the
building in a two-bedroom upstairs apartment with their infant daughter Eden.
Barry and Marty were both graduate students in the Department of Radiation
Biology and Biophysics. Marty had been over at our apartment rather late (even
then, bedtime was early for us) studying for an exam with Barry. When he went
home, Barry and I went to sleep. We were awakened a couple of hours later by
the phone ringing. I picked it up and heard “Hi. We’re coming over.” We jumped
out of bed and Barry threw on some clothes to find out what was wrong. Within
moments he returned with Sharon, Marty, and Eden. It turned out that they had
put some rubber nipples from the Playtex baby bottles in a pan of water to
sterilize (commonly done back in those days) and then, tired new parents as
they were, they fell asleep. The next thing they knew they awakened to a
horrible smell and an apartment filled with smoke: the water had boiled off and
the rubber was burning. They called us, grabbed Eden, and ran around the corner
to our apartment.
We did not have
children yet, so did the best we could. We pulled out and emptied one of the
drawers from Barry’s chest, lined it with clean blankets, and put Eden to
sleep. This incident is still one of our most vivid memories from those years
in University Park.
It fascinates me that
I can barely remember what I did this past weekend but can remember with such
clarity things that occurred forty years ago. I heard recently that new studies
are confirming that our memories from the years before we are 25 or so tend to
be the ones that stay with us as we grow older. I imagine pretty much anyone
over 50 can vouch for that.
So I will keep trying
to take a lot of pictures of our grandchildren so I can hold on to their beautiful
smiling faces as long as I can!
Love,
Rebecca
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