The Dying Does Not Seem to Stop

And this is personal, not political

So many relatives, friends, and colleagues have "died on me"--the phrase is Biblical, I am quoting Jacob when his wife Rachel died. I refuse to remove their names and addresses from my various and extensive contact lists. When my eyes happen to chance upon a name, I visit with each soul for a few seconds, or for a few minutes. Some of them died a long time ago, in the 1940s, '50s, '60s, '70s, and '80s; others departed their lives and mine more recently, in the 21st century, as recently as last year, or this very year.

This dying does not seem to stop.

Then, there are the unlucky ones, those who live on but who suffer from dementia or Alzheimers. I know five such women and men right now, two professors, two authors, and a filmmaker, who are living without their once powerful minds and with the most profound memory loss. I know two stroke victims who need extensive Rehab which their insurance does not fully cover.

I miss them. I mourn their absent presence.

And then, there are all those exceptionally lucky people who are still here. Some of us are actually able to keep doing our intellectual and political work--oh joy!--but we are in the minority. Many who were once pioneers of one kind or another, have grown silent, have already given their all, are done, used up, worn down. They do not keep up with events but are mainly concerned with cruises, cuisine, pets, grandchildren, card games, cosmetic surgeries--self-indulgences of all kind.

Being like this is hardly a crime, it is quite endearing, altogether human, this tilling of one's own garden, and yet, it is also a bit disappointing given how much trouble our world is in. We need every hand at the wheel, even if only to keep up with the times, so that, from time to time, one could write a letter to an editor, sign a petition, launch a petition, make a donation, and mainly, have something to talk about that's beyond only oneself.

I once had a late lunch with  former classmates of mine and was astounded by how much they talked about the food on the cruises they took--not too much about where they docked, what they saw.

So far, I've been talking about the lucky ones, those who have the health, the strength and the money to travel.

Many more people are not this lucky. Too many women, including Second Wave feminists whom I’ve known, live alone and are lonely; have no family--either they chose not to have children, their partners have died, or they've fallen out with their relatives. Too many live on pitifully fixed incomes, and cannot afford all the health care that they desperately need. From time to time, GoFundMe campaigns have been launched to help someone repair or buy a car, fix a roof, help with a downpayment on a new, smaller apartment. 

This is true for many millions more, people whom I do not know and with whom I haven't worked.

I am not even going to discuss the political falling outs that so many of us have had and which has led to a sobering and permanent silence. 

I miss us as we once were. Perhaps I'm only remembering the good times.  Despite many exceptions, in our salad days, my sex was as competitive and as cruel to one another as they claimed only men were. It took me many years to publish "Woman's Inhumanity to Woman" and many leading feminists refused to endorse or support it. I was warned for years never to publish on this subject. Well, guess what? This forbidden subject drew more global interviews than any of my other books did.

So many interviewers asked me: "How did I know so much about the women in their country? This included reporters from Australia, New Zealand, Nepal, the Far East, South America, and North America.

Recently, feminist book-lovers in Teheran translated this work into Farsi and sent it to me. They wanted to do a QNA with me via zoom. I said I'd be honored but that they might get in trouble. After all, I call out Islamic gender and religious apartheid and support Israel and world Jewry. God love 'em. They said that this did not worry them--and so we met and their questions were mighty fine.

May these brave women and their male counterparts win their fight for freedom, speedily and in our day.