2022 LARRY’S LEGACY

 Thursday, August 4, 2022

Though last week offered everyone in our family sound reason to enjoy ‘fun and games’, that does not suggest the absence of sobering situations in need of serious consideration.  As with all extended families, unnecessary drama (based in unidentified and thus unresolved personal issues) arises when a problem, which truly does not currently exist, is imagined by a person whose darkly defensive outlook manages to create the exact situation that he or she is most fearful of encountering—as in the manifestation of—a self-conceived prophecy.  Knowing that this sad situation has been beyond our control for many years, our family has learned to accept that which none of us has been able to change for the better.

On a whole different level of sobering sadness, a dear cousin, who will always be deeply loved by many, passed away, last week.  Will and Larry grew up together, as their extended family, consisting of grandparents, aunts, uncles and numerous cousins, all lived within a few blocks of each other.  Three of these families called a three story apartment building home, each family living one level above another with a common hallway and stairwell leading to the front doors of all three apartments.

Basically, what I’m getting at is this:  Will and Larry enjoyed growing up within a very close knit extended family.  And when it came to cousins, Larry, being a jovial, mischievous kind of guy, beginning with toddlerhood throughout his entire manhood, had been a favorite, all around.

I was welcomed into Will’s extended family at the age of eighteen; that made Larry fifteen, and though I didn’t live upstairs or downstairs or down the block from his family, Larry and I had forged a lasting friendship filled with love and laughter that’s been deeply valued, throughout our adult lives.

As cancer, COVID and crowded airports forbid us from flying, Will and I felt thankful upon hearing that Larry’s memorial service would be Zoomed.

Larry had been married to Judy (who’d been a live wire, for sure) for close to fifty years, and Will and I had enjoyed each of them as individuals as much as we four had sought each other out as couples, who’d love to laugh, together, until several years back, when, sadly, very sadly, Judy succumbed to an aggressive brain tumor.

Today, I can’t help but imagine our cousins holding hands, smiling into each other’s eyes and laughing heartily at a corny joke that Judy, rolling her eyes, had listened to Larry repeat at least a hundred times if not more.

Of one thing you can be sure—upon reflecting over Larry’s Legacy, amusing anecdotes will surely be added, right here, about, knishes, green cake and dancing with two left feet.

Larry’s favorite dishes were his Gramma Ida’s potato knishes (which hD been enjoyed by about 35 people, every Thanksgiving) and his mother’s green cake.

Once Will and I’d moved to Phoenix, we made knishes, every year, because Thanksgiving was not Thanksgiving until the first knish had been savored in our living room (imagine the room filled with our sons watching football before our Thanksgiving guests had arrived).

In fact, as soon as our last batch of golden knishes had been lifted out of our extra large frying pan, oil still sizzling, Will would call Larry, who lived in the Midwest, to tease his dearly loved cousin by asking Larry if he could smell this peppery family favorite cooling on the kitchen counter.  Larry, who’d awaited Will’s call, year after year, would laugh robustly; then, knowing how much Will loved Aunt Gerty’s green cake, Larry would counter with—My mom whipped up a green cake, and I’m enjoying YOUR slice, right now!

Once during a workday, Will was going from exam room to exam room, glancing through each next chart, and upon walking into the last exam room of the day, Will’s eyes lifted from chart in hand to see Larry, sitting on the table with Judy standing next to him, both laughing at Will’s sudden show of delighted surprise, which matched my own when all three walked across the threshold from our garge into our home. That weekend, while the guys played golf, Judy and I—having duplicated Aunt Gerty’s recipe—surprised our husbands with an authentic green cake, which, having won two thumbs up, had been devoured by sundown.

Larry was an athlete but not a dancer.  And though I’d loved to dance—especially with Will—once my sciatic nerve became too painfully inflamed to jitterbug, Judy would happily claim Will as her partner, and off they’d go twirling like teens, all over the dance floor.  Will was so happy to be dancing, and I was so happy to know that during family celebrations, my husband was never seen tapping his foot on the sidelines wishing for a partner as enthusiastic as had been true of both Judy—and me.

Sometimes I wonder if rather than passing on sad information concerning devastating  illnesses and unbearable losses, my defense system detours my mind from dwelling upon losses that feel too sad to be true in favor of savoring yesteryear’s happy memories, so I can feel peaceful and cheerful, most of the time.

Though we’ve been experiencing very sad moments during this time of heartfelt loss, I feel deeply grateful for having spent the greater part of this past week enjoying our sons and their families with more of the same to come…

Annie