“Oh no . . . she’s dying!”

No, no, I’m not — at least, not that I know of. Well, except in the sense that we all are, from the very first breath we draw when we’re born. But for the moment I think I’m okay. However, death is inevitable, so why not be prepared, right?

Right??

I had a friend, Amelia — one of our group of six “Golden Girls” (the other five all deceased now) — who actually did plan every last detail of her funeral service when she learned that she had terminal cancer. She was the most organized and practical person I’ve ever known. She saved her family a lot of trouble, and got exactly what she wanted.

It was a beautiful service, by the way.

This is not that. But September always makes me sad, for a number of reasons: both of my maternal grandparents, as well as my great-grandmother, my mother’s older sister, and my mother herself died in September (in different years); the 18th was my sister’s birthday (she would have been 90 this year); and the 23rd would have been my granddaughter’s birthday (she’s been gone for a year and a half now). So, despite the happy occasion of Rosh Hashanah — the Jewish New Year — this week, I guess I’m feeling a little maudlin. And since the future is always unknown, I’d like to get a jump on things and get the truth about my life out there while I can, and before someone else has a chance to get it all wrong and possibly crank out a eulogy or obituary that better resembles Kate Middleton than yours truly.

Let’s start with the things that should not be included.

First of all, I was not descended from royalty, or a long, distinguished line of statesmen, academics, writers, composers, philanthropists, artists, or captains of industry, nor did I marry any of the above. My grandparents were Russian/Ukrainian/Jewish, working-class immigrants who arrived on U.S. shores in 1905 virtually penniless, with no knowledge of English, but with a boundless work ethic and great hope for a better future. They worked, they raised large families, and they prospered — never becoming wealthy, but comfortable. There was always food, a good home, and plenty of love to go around. So my childhood was rather prosaic, but happy. Please don’t try to make it sensational.

At the age of 13, I did become a child of a broken home. But to tell you the truth, it didn’t bother me that much, because I knew my parents hadn’t been happy together for as long as I could remember. And one really good thing came of the split: my mother, my sister and I moved to Washington, D.C., where the jobs were, and where my real life began. I’m a native New Englander, but Washington is my home town, and without that move, I would not have lived the life I did. So, no long-term resentment there, and please don’t try to endow me with any lingering PTSD from my parents’ divorce. It just isn’t there.

I have no musical talent, I’m too klutzy to dance, have no artistic skills whatever, and I’m the worst athlete you’re liable to find anywhere. And I was born one generation too soon to ever have become a billionaire techie. I have never won a Nobel or Pulitzer Prize for anything. Also, I lack the instincts of an entrepreneur or the soullessness of a politician. So . . . no fame or fortune in any of those areas, either.

Like my mother before me, I didn’t marry very well; but I did raise two beautiful children, both of whom, by some miracle, are brilliant and talented. But they’re not rich or famous either, so don’t give me more credit than I deserve. I was never named Mother of the Year, but I did my best, and I think I did pretty well.

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Well . . . now that we know all of the things I’m not, let’s look at some of the things I am.

I’m a law-abiding citizen. I’ve never killed anyone, committed a robbery, arson, assault, or other felony, and I always pay my taxes — every cent — on time. I have gotten a couple of speeding tickets over the years, but I also paid those in full, and on time.

I don’t lie, cheat, gossip, bully, or otherwise knowingly cause harm to others. I love animals, and I’m even kind to people most of the time. So I guess that makes me a pretty nice person. You may put that in my eulogy.

I’m a good cook — not gourmet style, but delicious, satisfying, stick-to-the-ribs (and hips) home cooking passed down from my mother and grandmother. And I love to bake; in fact, my cheesecake once won a contest. I love the smell of freshly baked bread, and of frying onions.

In school, I was a nearly straight-A student. I spent most of my adult life working as a legal assistant, and I was damned good at it. I’m a hard worker, reliable, and smart, and I get along with most people. And don’t bother trying to challenge me on questions of grammar or spelling, because you will lose. The same goes for playing Scrabble.

I studied Russian — the language, history, politics and literature — as an adult, just for the fun of it. (I realize that my idea of fun may not be the same as yours.) As it turned out, it did come in very handy later when I twice worked overseas, first in Prague and then in Moscow. It would be good to mention this in the eulogy.

I love to travel, and I did a lot of it between 1988 and 2009, both for business and pleasure. I miss that, so please include a mention of my love of visiting foreign lands.

I had a bit of an adventure involving the KGB, the CIA and the FBI in the early 1990s, but there’s no need to mention that in my eulogy. It’s ancient history; I just like remembering it.

You may already have noticed that I love to write. I haven’t been published as yet, but there’s always hope . . . I love writing this blog. And I read a lot — all kinds of things. I’m also into theater, and movies, and music . . . So many pleasures, so little time.

I love the noise and hubbub of the city, and also the fresh smell of grass and flowers after a spring rain. My favorite season is fall, when the summer humidity has finally lifted, the air is crisp and cool, and the trees exhibit the most amazing colors.

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All of these things you may include in my eulogy and/or obituary. They’re not exciting, or exclusive, or exceptional. But they’re the things that make me who I am . . . and I think that who I am is pretty okay.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
9/20/23