This is a digression for us … a digression, a celebration and, then, mourning.
Chatterbox has shared the lives of many individuals over these 19-plus years of weekly columns. Some were world famous. Some were famous Americans. Some weren’t famous, but had something special to add to some specific topic or life at large.
In reference, my neighbors – “the sisters” – were mentioned more often than any others here at Chatterbox; they fit so snugly into so many scenarios. My husband and I called them, “the girls.” My children and grandchildren called them their “aunties.” Either one of these women could illuminate the Taj Mahal on her own. Together, they created more light than Hoover Dam.
Sisters come in many versions. Usually, they are peas in a pod. Occasionally, they are oil and water. Then, there are those pairs who, without being twins, can still finish each other’s sentences, pull for each other in all situations, and create a spread of sparkle that falls all over everyone like a glitter bomb/ These two were all of the very best sister scenarios.
Chattereaders will remember when we talked about them in terms of their love of language; they both spoke three, fluently, and their love of music; both were wonderful singers. The younger one was a wonderful photographer and an aficionado of jazz, once referred to as “that Persian chick” by Dizzy Gillespie himself. The older one had a career, married, was a perfectionist of English and its punctuation and a wonderful baker and cook, always appreciative of my Italian specialties and always baking her goodies for us.
Chatterbox has often talked about the memories we all leave with people, “even at the grocery check-out.” Like footprints on the shore, we all leave marks everywhere we go, whether we are aware or not, care or not, try to, or try not to. Our touch on the earth is evident on everything from sand, to cement and souls. This is our power and our curse. Even hermits leave someone behind and make footprints in the snow. We don’t ever live alone. We weren’t meant to.
The victims of COVID didn’t all die from the disease. Some died from the social effects of it, including isolation. For some, there just was too much of a social change. For others, it allowed the time and, indeed, the freedom to just cave in. Even those of us living with families or in large buildings filled with neighbors, common rooms and dining areas, still felt its sting.
For the sisters, just like the rest of us, their visits from friends and neighbors were brought to a minimum. Luckily, they still had each other and lived with a loving extended family. Still, exuberance of their brand required more, most broadly, their preaching work. They lived to serve others. When their Bible studies and services were curtailed, they remained involved and vibrant, ministering via phone sessions. The brilliant unstoppables.
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