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KEVIN SCOTT HALL | ||||||||||||
and home of "That Singing Feeling" workshops |
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JOURNAL August 2005 Happy Birthday, Audrey |
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| When she couldn't hold back the tears of joy from flowing, across the dinner
table on the final evening from our eight-day cruise to the Caribbean, I
couldn't help but cry myself. It had been a long, difficult journey my sister Audrey and I had taken to get to this moment and on that evening in late June, we, along with her husband, her daughter and our mother, had just had perhaps the most relaxing, satisfying vacation of our lives. For me, that the vacation was with family and came immediately after the death of a close friend, the blessings were unexpected and meaningful. For Audrey, the vacation was perhaps a culmination of a lifetime of hard work and quiet, steadfast patience with life's trials and tribulations. She had found a rewarding, purposeful career in nursing. She had found love with her wonderful husband, Paul, and her daughter, Bethany conceived after many years of barrenness who was now loved even more than she was spoiled by those around her. Growing up, Audrey and I were the middle two of four children, between the oldest, Carleton, and the youngest, Wendy. We got the best grades but we weren't as athletic or cute as the other two, the two qualities that meant most during the difficult teenage years. I was seen as too goody-goody, too unhip, too studious, too ugly, and too delicate, and was subjected to cruel name-calling and even violence. Audrey struggled with weight problems and I can only imagine what being overweight does to a teenage girl's self-image. Both of us were dateless to our proms. Audrey and I probably both felt we were at the bottom of the social heap. As often happens in the world, so happened in our family. In the world, it is often the oppressed and downtrodden that end up fighting each other. Palestinians and Jews fight, Sikhs and Muslims fight, American inner city blacks turn violent on each other, and so on and so on. Audrey and I turned on each other more than we turned on the other two, using our smarts to come up with the sharpest, meanest barbs to wound, often for the purpose of entertaining Carleton and Wendy, laughing on the sidelines. I'm not saying Carleton and Wendy led trouble-free lives, but during that time when egos are fragile and the need for self-esteem is great, I'm not sure they had the same problems Audrey and I had. But for those who perservere, life can offer rewards later in life. Audrey used her intelligence to get into Simmons College, one of the finest women's private schools in the country. This child of blue collar, small town America managed to fit right in with the upper-middle class girls, daughters of professors and engineers and Fortune 500 businessmen. As she started to date, she made a few errors in judgment along the way, but fewer than most of us make, I think. Eventually, she met Paul, a decent family man. When they married in 1991 at the Cathedral of the Pines in New Hampshire, a few of us joked behind the scenes that it was our own "Princess Diana" wedding in the making. We thought it was going to kill our stressed-out mother. But when the day came and went, all would agree that it was one of the most memorable weddings they'd attended. In 1994, when I was assaulted and hospitalized in a mid-Manhattan hospital, she and my mother, and later Paul, bravely made their way to the unknown, scary city on their own to nurse me back to health. It was the first time I had seen Nurse Audrey in action. She strode right into the hospital room and, in a firm, strong voice, pointed to the IV tube, the pills, this and that, and demanded to know what was what and why it was being administered. The big city nurse was practically trembling in her presence. Over the years, Audrey has welcomed me and my assortment of New York City friends into her home at holidays, always serving up the extra plate of food or the guest bedroom. She is equally content going shopping, baking cookies, reading with Bethany, playing cards with my parents, planning a trip, or watching a Red Sox game. But it was nice to see, on that magical evening in June, that she allowed herself a moment to bask in the unabashed joy she deserves. This week, Audrey turns 40, and I can hardly believe that we're both into middle age. I'd like to assure her what I've come to believe, that life keeps getting better with time, at least for now while we still have our health and vitality. Happy birthday, Audrey. You deserve the best day and the best life imaginable. I hope we're together to celebrate many more milestones to come. |
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