Thursday, January 12, 2012

Life

A friend just went through a 3rd heart procedure and responded to my business-like email yesterday with a note that included some of the following: (At my request he ok'd me to post some of it)

Dear Frank

First, welcome back.  Deadlines are fine with me. I love the sound they make as they go whooshing past.

I am at home today. My body is sore.

Yesterday in the hospital I thought a lot about about where I am now in life's long march. That sort of thing, the big ticket items of existence. As they were wheeling me down the hallway yesterday, on the way to the operating room, I heard my ancestors (or maybe it was just my own intuition) telling me I would come out of this okay. Like you, I understand that death is tragic only if a person has squandered their life and the years they have been given. Robert Frost said, "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life — It goes on." And it really does, for all of us, forever.

I am still kind of out of it. The doctor says I need to rest fully today and maybe tomorrow -- not to drive, sign any legal documents or make any life-altering decisions. (They should probably have cautioned me against trying to write thoughtful and philosophical emails.)

The plan is to rest today. Then tomorrow we can regroup and begin again, untangling the hairy vicissitudes of our struggles.

Love,
Larry Moffitt*
*See my word in the comments section

Many, many friends wrote thoughtfully in response to this yesterday.  This one was especially good:

Dear Frank,

Thank you for this.

I happened to read it when listening to “Spiegel im Spiegel” of the Estonian componist Arvo Pärt, which conveys a very similar message.

Best wishes, 

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

satingetI looked around this world and realized we are here for a limited time and once we leave it we cannot re-enter it. And I looked around all the tall and beautiful buildings aound Manhattan and I wondered what this American society is all about.

Elio Roman said...

The day aften I had two stents placed...I looked around this world and realized we are here for a limited time and once we leave it we cannot re-enter it. And I looked around all the tall and beautiful buildings aound Manhattan and I wondered what this American society is all about.

Greg said...

Thank you for sharing this well- spotted bit of introspection. I know that I always benefit from taking a moment to stop and check the "map and compass".

Andrew Wilson said...

Give my best wishes to Larry. I hope he rests for more than just a day!

Andrew

Frank Kaufmann said...

I faced this dilemma.

I wanted Larry's reflections to stand on their own for the reader to ponder. So I posted his letter anonymously. My desired effect was achieved and a great many people wrote to express gratitude for his thoughts.

BUT - Larry is a writer, and he (like all writers) enjoys to be known for his work, and especially to be associated with a piece that receives good feedback.

To accommodate that I later added his name as the signatory of his letter.

Just as I feared, all feedback on his thoughts ceased, and I began to receive (precisely what I did NOT want to receive) a rush of letters of concern for Larry. This too is natural, but... again not at all part of my interest. I had a lot of great feedback from folks who have no idea who Larry is. That was my original interest in posting his reflections.

SO now that I am stuck in the unintended role of fielding love and concern for Larry, here's the story.

Larry is perfectly fine. His procedures are minor and outpatient (though they do happen in operating rooms). There are more blades in my neighborhood on the way to the grocery store than have been around Larry for any of this.

Hope this helps. I hope you enjoy his very eloquent rendering of his reflections the day after.