SOL18: Where Do Memories Belong?

            For about a year after Jack’s memorial, this photo board was in the living room, across from where I sat, in his chair. I would see it every day, and it was almost (almost!) as if he was still here. It was also an occasion for people who came over to talk about him, if they wanted to. I always wanted to.

            After a year, I thought, maybe it was too much, to leave it where I would see it whenever I looked up from whatever I was doing, on the computer, reading a book, watching a baseball game (the photo board was right next to the television). So I moved it into the bedroom. That was also more appropriate, considering how much enjoyable time we spent in bed over the decades.

            In the bedroom, it stands in

front of a cabinet holding linens. So I have to move it once a week when I change towels and sheets. Yesterday, when I moved the board, I was pricked by irritation. This should not be the way Jack still exists in this world, pinned to a board in bits and pieces. It felt wrong that he is dead. Yet that is still a fact.

            I’ve just finished reading Kate Atkinson’s A God in Ruins, which is in many ways all about death, and life, and death in life and life in death. I am still struggling with the reality and immensity of all of that.  

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I’m participating in the 12th annual Slice of Life Challenge over at Two Writing Teachers. This is day 1 of the 31-day challenge.  It’s not too late to make space for daily writing in a community that is encouraging, enthusiastic, and eager to read what you have to slice about.  Join in!

Video of Jack's Memorial

Jack Robbins's memorial is finally up on YouTube, a year to the day after he died. It's in seven sections, so you don't have to watch it all in one sitting -- one hour total. Here are the links, and who's speaking in each part.

Scheduled speakers
Part 1: Me and Christie.

Part 2: Both Jack's brother Jim, and his oldest friend, Martin Limbird, were unable to be in New York for the memorial, but they sent remarks read by Mark Jaffe (my brother) and Richard Haas (Christie's partner), respectively.

Speakers from among Jack's friends
Part 3: Mark Jaffe, Richard Haas, and Anne Newman. Anne is married to a college friend of Richard's and happened to work at Business Week with Jack before Jack met Richard.

Part 4: Cheryl Morrison and Clyde Haberman.

Part 5: Ciro Scotti, Prudence Crowther, Debbie Stead, and Hardy Green, Jack's Business Week colleagues.

Part 6: Erla Hutchinson Alexander and Sylvia Law. Erla was a friend from his college days at Wichita State University, and Sylvia was among our oldest friends, a classmate of mine from Antioch College.

Part 7: Cary Lacheen and Michael Coffey. Cary was one of Sylvia's students at NYU Law School and a movie fan to match Jack's passion. And Michael, my former boss at Publishers Weekly, had the most appropriate last word.

Remembering and Forgetting

My husband’s memorial is in three days, and I am only now knuckling down to write up my comments. (Yes, I do have to write out what I will say. I have only once ever given a talk based only on notes, and I have given many talks. I’m good at writing the way I speak.)

            It is not easy. First, it has to be about him, not about me. I have been writing memoir quite a bit lately, which is ultimately about me. It’s hard to shift the focus. Second, I know there are stories he used to tell, about his growing up, his family, his various workplaces, and I used to think, I should write these down — but I never did. My memory is not that good. He remembered stories about my life that I’d forgotten. Now his memories are gone. But I'm trying not to think about what's gone, just what I do remember.

            Third, our daughter is going to speak at the memorial, so I have to make sure I don’t steal any of her material, or say anything that might embarrass her. So we’re e-mailing back and forth.

            Fourth, fact-checking. Did the friend I think recommended a job really do it, or was it someone else? (E-mai

ls.) What was the name of the editor on the start-up magazine he worked on for a week? I spend time on Google, then decide the whole story isn’t necessary.

            Fifth, his oldest friend and his younger brother cannot come to the memorial from their homes in Colorado and Kansas. So they wrote reminiscences and sent them to me. The friend needed an editorial discussion to encourage him to write more, while the brother needed a heavy editorial hand to cut down what he’d sent. (These will be read by a friend and my younger brother, respectively. So I have to send the finished products off to them as well.)

            So that’s been my day so far. Still working away.