John Donne once wrote “Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.” He was referring of course, to the customary practice (‘back in the day’) – of tolling the village death knell when somebody died. If a stranger or farmer didn’t know the deceased – they would invariably ask “For whom does the bell toll?” – and they generally got the name of the deceased from one of the locals. Donne, however (Father of how many children? [He could have competed with ol’ Ben Franklin]) – suggested to us through this verse — that a part of-all-of-us dies when even one soul leaves its body. (Yes. Yes. Yes. Some-of-you-who read me closely will say that Doc Scheff thinks we are ALL God – so what is this “soul” business?) Well – we can be God and have a soul, right?
So I went to a funeral today and almost sent some woman to a funeral. I exited onto Victory Blvd. East from the 170 South (an exit ramp I have never before taken) and completely oblivious to a stop sign (I thought the lane merged into Victory) – almost broadsided a car with a female passenger. She looked at me like I was an idiot – and she was right. God! How I want a chauffer to get me from A-to-B in Lost Angeles. Driving here gets crazier by-the-day – and I’m obviously contributing to the craziness. And the beautiful irony is that I rescued some Chinese Family that knew about three words of English in Palos Verdes yesterday – by having them follow me to where they needed to go. One day you save a life, and the next day you almost take one. I need a chauffer or a goddamn glass bubble.
But I digress – and I need to hurry — because my son will be wanting this computer to finish his book report in-a-bit…so the memorial service for this Pearl Harbor survivor and WWII vet was a very, very powerful experience for me – as I heard these crusty vets sharing some of their life (and death) experiences with the assemblage. A military reporter made the journey from Hawaii, and a Daily News columnist also made appearances. I told the Daily News reporter, Dennis, that this morning I received a gratis copy of the Sunday News (before my Times arrived) – and that I rather enjoyed the tone of the News – and was thinking of dodging the stodgy Times.
The sad irony of today’s memorial service, however – lay in what was NOT mentioned during the funeral – but sat in the chapel like a monstrous pink elephant. As much as the departed was deeply loved and revered by many – only one-of-his-four-daughters could take the pulpit and offer him a eulogy: the other three experience differing forms of bitterness as they try to deal with their highly dysfunctional situations. This family dysfunction has even reached into the great-grandchildren.
So this ol’ family systems therapist knows that something was amiss with Daddy’s relationships with his daughters (alcohol did run through this system like a steady stream) – to have generated the level of dysfunction the extended system presents. Lord knows that I don’t cover-up-the-fact that I have quite lost control of my 16-year-old, Tyler – and, often reel-on-the-ropes with-my-soon-to-be-13-year-old, Austen; (and I thought I knew something-about-something about child rearing).
So John Donne WAS right – cuz when the bell tolls, that departing spirit carries some-of-the-grief-and-suffering that all-of-us experience here – they just don’t take ours with them: which necessitates my getting a chauffer to avoid the repeated trauma of L.A. traffic!