A DEATH IN THE FAMILY IS MY ONLY NEWS TODAY

December 3rd, 2008 - by: danny

BECOMING AN ORPHAN – DECEMBER 2, 2008

I probably spend too much of my time chronicling and dissecting what’s gong on “out there,” in the “objective” world of news, war, financial collapse, etc. Yes, I am a news junkie but I try to separate the junk from the truth as I see it.

Today, I had to do some chronicling closer to home, burrowing in my own subjective reality, as I fought to accept and deal with, or at least try to cope with the grief and pain of a personal/family loss. It is a reality many of you have gone through I am sure. It’s never easy and I had some wonderful talks with friends as we shared stories. Many who knew him wrote beautiful letters of how he had touched them.

The call came in Tuesday while I was drafting this blog. My dad who has been ill for some time, now at age 90 plus, was slipping. I was told he might not make it through the night. While I was rushing up to Boston to see him for what turned out to be the last time, I heard the song, “If We Can Make It Through December,” a sad country tune about a man who has lost his job and thought life would be better if he could only survive this 12th month of the year.

In my case, we didn’t make it through December. My dad, Jerry Schechter, died tonight after a long and amazing life. Fortunately, I was there, holding his hand, watching him go, with my brother, his wife and my sister-in-law and a wonderful and compassionate hospice health aide from Uganda named Paul. We saw his breathing become more difficult and then his heart stop.

He fought up until the inevitable end.

He had achieved all that he wanted when confronted with the reality of a terminal illness. He decided to prolong his life as long as he could and enjoy it as much as he could. He did. He wanted to die at home. He did. He wanted to be surrounded in his last hours by his family. He was. He wanted to avoid becoming dependent. He never complained, and faced his fate calmly. He was philosophical and practical about it. He left us in dignity and without pain. He was gutsy throughout. He had even instructed us to have the body removed immediately so no children in the neighborhood had to be scared by the sight of a dead person. All of the nurses, doctors and health workers who helped him became his friend and he ended up helping many of them. He was like that.

His will was done.

That didn’t prevent the tears.

I wanted readers of the blog who know my work, to know my influences, to know a little about Jerry Schechter, my life mentor and guiding star, and so I share this memorable obit-oem written so passionately by my brother Bill:

SCHECHTER JERRY – of Brookline, formerly

of the Bronx and Croton-on-Hudson, NY,

at 90, of illness. Husband of the late poet

Ruth Lisa Schechter, brother of the late

George Schechter, father of Danny Schechter,

Bill Schechter, and of Denzil McKenzie,

father-in-law of Sandy Shea, grandfather

of Sarah, Ethan, and Jamie Schechter, and

master of Toughie, Auric, and Truly.

Graduate of DeWitt Clinton H.S. in the

Bronx, garment worker, union activist,

Workmen’s Circle member, Amalgamated

“Cooperator,” veteran, sculptor.

Survived the Great Depression

and WWII. He saw it all, told it

the way it was, and lived

a life that pointed the way to

“A Besserer Velt” – a better, more

just world. He was our “working

class hero.”

He met his responsibilities to

his family, to his community,

and to humanity. He was a friend

to all, except those who take

advantage of others.

No flowers. Please make

contributions to

National Yiddish Book Center,

the Holocaust Museum,

or Asera Hospice.

Memorial gathering planned for

Brookline. Date to be announced.

Private burial at Mt. Auburn.

Thanks to all who have already expressed concern and written kind words. His race has been run. Ours remains.

ODETTA

I would be remiss if I did not mention another influence on me who also died yesterday at age 77.

We met several times but were not close except in the way she moved me. Her name: ODETTA, a great folk singer and passionate voice of freedom.

Odetta Holmes was born in Birmingham, Ala., on Dec. 31, 1930, in the depths of the Depression. The music of that time and place– particularly prison songs and work songs recorded in the fields of the Deep South– shaped her life.

“They were liberation songs,” she said in a videotaped interview with the New York Times in 2007 for its online feature “The Last Word.” “You’re walking down life’s road, society’s foot is on your throat, every which way you turn you can’t get from under that foot. And you reach a fork in the road and you can either lie down and die, or insist upon your life.”

She was supposed to sing at a recent tribute to South Africa’s Miriam Makeba that I went to, but was too ill to make it. She said she wanted to sing at Obama’s inauguration. If you never heard her, make a point of doing so. At least I have many of her songs to buoy my spirit.

My daily blog resumes tomorrow.

The News Dissector