Mary-yum
What do you say when someone calls to tell you
that you can't die yet?
I met Mariam in my eighth grade study hall. She
had bucked teeth and braces, zits and thick 50's style eyeglasses. I loved her
instantly, and I haven't stopped loving her for the intervening 50 + years. We,
along with six other teens, were not socially popular, so we made our own
protective environment.
Mariam and I
and one other friend were constantly inventing things to do. Playing tricks on
others and each other was a big occupation. During our high school years we
faked several shocking events, including a hijacked car, a visit from aliens,
and a murder on a rainy night. We sat in drive-in restaurants and consumed our
share of hamburgers, fries and cokes—the unpopular hangers-onto fifties
pop culture.
Mariam went to the "party
school" at Athens, Ohio and majored in theatre and dance; I went to liberal arts
Marietta College and studied math, science and philosophy. But we stayed locked
in each other's lifetime care. When I graduated, I got a job at Republic Steel
in Cleveland, Ohio, and gradually, I moved my friends up there with me. Mariam
and I and another guy and gal stayed close. I got her her first job out of
college, at the Medina County YWCA.
I
went off to grad school in math, but two years later, Mariam and I ran off to
Miami, Florida to stay with Mo and Jim Heltmann for a couple of months. Never
did finish the masters in math. We had formed a friendship with Mo and her
sister Toni when we were in Cleveland. Mariam used to complain that people kept
spelling her name wrong: Miriam. So Mo always addressed her letters to
"Mary-yum."
But I went back home and
then to grad school and eventually became an education professor. Mariam got
herself a makeover and glamor photographed on a couple of suitcases with a
travel poster behind her. She developed a career as an entertainment director on
cruise ships and riverboats, and later tried her hand at TV production. It would
be fairer to say that she kept reinventing herself in the entertainment
industry, ever creative and unstoppable.
I spent one week with her when she was
an actress in Thelma White's Studio in LA, another when she was the assistant to
the producer of the Merv Griffin Show. More recently, when Stephen and I were
visiting in New Orleans, Mariam got us on the American Queen for a 5 day cruise
at a very reduced price. Another time, we watched the St. Louis Fourth of July
fireworks display from the deck of the Delta Queen. She came to St. Louis for my
48th Birthday Murder Mystery
Party.
Fate struck hard several times,
car and bike wrecks, family losses, broken bones. Just when life seemed
determined to do her in, she reinvented herself first as a tasty freeze and hot
dog stand owner, next as the purveyor of a coffee house and now as a real estate
agent. She continues to wage a life-long battle with a somewhat arrested form of
muscular dystrophy.
Always I can't go
too many weeks without calling Mariam; checking in, rooting her on. It's like
we're twin souls, and I could just have easily gone off on her path, but I got
called elsewhere. Like the entangled paired electrons of Alan Aspect's
experiment that proved Einstein wrong, whenever something changes in one of our
lives, the other life immediately responds.
Her latest project is to build a
million dollar house for herself in California. Barriers and environmental
restrictions galore, but she is inching, no millimetering her way towards her
goal.
The other day, I thoughtlessly
said to her (in a phone conversation) that even if I didn't make it, I wanted
her still to have Stephen out to see her new house when it is done. (Well, I
HAVE been having a bit of a tussle with pulmonary hypertension.) So this
morning, she called me back. Told me that I couldn't die yet. She still needs to
know I am here. Said that the one thing she wants to be able to do yet is to
show me her new home.
Ok, Mary-yum,
since you asked me so nicely, I'll try extra hard to do you the favor of
visiting your new house when it's done. God, are you
listening?
Posted: Sat
- May 6, 2006 at 10:53 PM