You can't go home again

People often say “you can’t go home again.” This phrase has its origins as the title of a novel by Thomas Wolfe that was published after his death in 1940 based on material extracted from his unpublished manuscript, “The October Fair”. I had reason to think about it quite a bit last week.

Early last week I received an e-mail message from a former Pfizer colleague telling me about a gathering of the Pfizer group in which she and I had both worked in the early 1990s. Although I am still in contact with a number of colleagues from those years, somehow my name was a late addition to the list. The gathering was last Thursday evening at a restaurant two blocks from the Pfizer offices in midtown Manhatan, and I was fortunately in New York and able to attend. I took a car service into the City, the first time I visited my old stomping grounds in over three years, which was a very strange feeling.

Because of the countless changes to the Pfizer organization during the last twenty years, I had no way of knowing whether all of my old colleagues knew what had happened to me. I did not want to spend the entire evening repeating my “story” again and again, so the day before the event I distributed a brief update on why I had left and ended with

Because of my pulmonary condition, I cannot stand for long periods or walk around a lot, so I do hope you will seek me out in a chair somewhere and stop by to say hello.

I debated about sending this note because I feared it might sound a bit more self-involved than I wanted, but I think it was a good idea because it enabled me to focus on my former colleagues and on my personal favorite discussion topic: our grandchildren. I set up my iPhone with a collection of especially cute recent pictures and showed it to everyone who came by.

I knew nearly everyone in the room; although there were many I had not seen in quite a few years. I surprised myself with how many names I remembered, continuing evidence that the section of the brain in which the tumor grew effects short-term much more than long-term memory.

Even without moving around much, I was exhausted after an hour and a half or so. But it was nice to see everyone, and in particular to see that, despite quite a few stressful changes, the spirit and desire to help patients is still very much alive. At the same time, it was a bit of a sad reminder of all I had to give up three years ago. While it was not exactly a homecoming, I am really glad that I went.

We drove up to Sharon on Friday and had Friday night dinner with Dina and family and Saturday lunch with Simmie and family. The children always greet us with such enthusiasm when we have been away for a few weeks. Maybe absence does make the heart grow fonder.

We had tickets for the Harlem Globetrotters on Sunday, so Barry, Joshua, Eliana, Ella, and I headed up to Boston for the game. I am not sure I had ever seen them live, and it was really quite entertaining. Especially clever was the “instant replay” which they did by moving as if in slow motion while pretending to “rewind” the “video” and then “replay”.

After the game we all met at Dina’s for a family birthday celebration for Julia Rose, who reached her first birthday last week. Here are a couple of pictures. She is every bit as cute and sweet as she looks (no bias whatsoever).

 I am sorry it has taken a bit to provide this update. I feel as if I have done a year’s worth of cooking and baking in the past few days, all for Passover. Our refrigerator and freezer here in Sharon are completely full of some of our family favorites, with a heavy emphasis on cakes and cookies that I like to make. I hope everyone will be hungry!

A happy and healthy holiday to all!

Love,

Rebecca