Dear Friends,
The message was dread-inspiring: "Please call me, I've got news," said in that sad voice meant to soften a blow. Bad news was in store. Someone had to have died.
Someone had: the mom of three high school friends. I was in the school choir, but not particularly close, with the twin boys my age. But their older brother was a different story. Mitchell was my first crush, my first date, my first kiss, my first boyfriend. We saw the first Star Wars film on the first showing of the first day of its local release. (And I have the "May the Force be With You" pin to prove it.)
I've been Facebook connected with Mitch since about 2005, but not at all with the twins through the 37 years since we graduated. There is also a younger brother who was a little kid when we were teens.
Mrs. Schwartz , Mom to her sons, and Maxine or Magi to friends and family (so I learned yesterday). Mrs. Schwartz and I spent little time together -- it wasn't what you might imagine, with her raising four boys as a divorced mother: I was not the daughter Maxine never had.
While I doubt I made an impression on her, Mrs. Schwartz made a huge impression on me. This woman, "Mrs." to no man, was the first brash, independent and sexy over-sized woman I'd met. She had what she needed and lived as she liked (from my adolescent perspective, anyway). She raised four boys firmly and with no fuss.
When Mrs. Schwartz wanted to sun her ample body, she wore an itsy bitsy bikini. This snapshot serves me as a coaching image: a tanned, sweaty, bikini-clad Mrs. Schwartz entering the house to get an icy drink. For nearly 40 years, it pops up to remind me -- a perpetually over-sized woman -- that I may dress as I wish and I may feel sexy without approval from the Thin Police.
So I drove to Baltimore for the funeral. To comfort the Schwartz boys, whom I knew when I was a girl exploring her femininity, and to imbibe memories of the first woman to show me that Sexy, like a bikini, should be worn however one chooses.
Hugging each Schwartz brother for the first time in decades, felt like honey tastes. Watching the alchemy of laughter, tears and memory morph their faces into those worn by the boys they were made me happy.
I met Mitchell's magnificent wife and nearly adult offspring. I caught up with his closest friend -- the one who called to say I should be there -- and the third in their three musketeers-style friendship. I re-met my own brother's childhood friend, a fellow public and Hebrew School traveler. Weekly, these boys amused themselves with a hearty game of Kill the Guy with the Yarmulke at the bus stop and on the synagogue lawn.
I traveled down through New York, New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland and Time yesterday. Today, I will travel up to New York and the present, savoring the sweet sights, sounds, memories and tastes of Mrs. Schwartz's farewell. From my view, this fabulous woman went out as she lived -- loved and in style!
Thank you for reading. If you are enjoying Reinventing Rhonda, please share it with your friends. If not, please share it with those whom you wish to annoy.
Love, Rhonda
