2016once was enough

(Philip Pasmanick, 911 words)

I like to start out an end-of-the-year letter with positive experiences for which I am grateful, and there
are plenty of those, big and small. But it feels contrived not to mention two events that shook my
already-shaky world. First of course was the heartbreaking election, with its anachronistic electoral
process, its ludacris cast of cabinet picks, and now the whole shady business of putative Russian
shenanigans. I have no need to go on and on about Trump; everybody can find their own favorite
reasons to hate and/or fear him.
As this global political disaster played itself out day by day, a family drama was in its closing scenes.
My mother, at age 93 and still a live wire, took a fall in October that led to a CT scan that in turn
revealed stage 4 lung cancer that has spread to her brain. Marilyn and I flew immediately to
Washington DC to be at her side. Mom kept to her routines till the day she died on October 30, her way
eased we hope--by hospice care.
Then came the aftermath: paying the bills, shutting down the apartment, dealing with funeral
arrangements, etc. Despite my parents meticulous preparation, there were a lot of loose ends to follow
through with. Marilyn and my sister Anne made all the difference as they efficiently made the calls and
transacted the business. I would have been lost without them.
When my mothers ashes were interred beside those of my dads I finally cried. Im just beginning, I
guess, to mourn. But the mood turned to celebration when we drove up to Long Island, NY for a
previously scheduled 90th birthday party for Marilyns mom Aurita and her twin sister Concha. On the
morning of the event I wrote the requisite dcimas in English and Spanish. We spent five days in Long
Island, enjoying the hospitality of The Dozens of Cousins on both sides of Marilyns family.
I must mention that Aurita, my mother-in-law, is like a second mother to me, so it was with some
consternation that after five years of living principally with us in San Francisco she announced last
spring that she was going to live in an assisted living facility where her son Bobs in-laws reside in
Davis, CA. She made herself a home there, and we visit frequently.
On our annual summer migration to Spain we fulfilled a life-long dream of Marilyns by taking an 11day trans-Atlantic cruise to Vigo, just across the estuary from Moaa. We were met by a delegation of
cousins from the Home Office who whisked us away to their hill-top house, where their respective
husbands were seemingly engaged in the same furious argument they had been having when we said
goodbye last year; namely, the optimal time to cover and uncover a paella.
We decided to spare ourselves the long trip to Andaluca. Instead we invited several friends and cousins
up north to visit us in Moaa. We entertained them, and ourselves of course, by taking road trips to new
destinations in Galicia and Portugal. In June we flew to Cuba for Marilyns first visit, and my fifth. We
split our time between Havana and Sancti Spritus, where I had been invited
to present a paper on dcima and rumba. Everything went well and I was not struck by any of the ripe
mangos that fell alarmingly from the trees in the patio.
During the summer I tried repeatedly to call and email my mom, and she never responded. Soon after
returning to San Francisco we flew back to Washington D.C. for a visit. We found her very diminished
in mind and body, though still socially active. A few weeks later came her fall, the unexpected
diagnosis of untreatable cancer, and the final days that described above. To add to our anxiety we

learned that back in San Francisco my cousin Karl was undergoing a major medical crisis of his own; at
this writing he is at home recovering very well.
My medical moment took place in late November. On my way home from a Parkinsons dance class, I
lost my balance on my electric bicycle and fell heavily on my side. I have endured this sort of accident
before, so I gathered up my Qi and rode on home.
A few days later, still in pain, I visited my doctor and I learned I had probably cracked a few ribs. I
must soon come to a decision: keep on riding, or sell the bike.
As for Natalia and Naomi, both are doing well. Natalia continues to perform and record her music
nationally and internationally, with simultaneous translation as a day job. I am very proud of the
ideological maturity and personal courage she shows in her political activism. Naomi, working at a
fancy restaurant, just got promoted from bar back to bartender. She is working very hard and learning a
lot. She will probably live here with us another year, so we reconfigured our little house to give her
more room.
Well, I didnt intend to write so much, but my tremor is not bad today, and I am comfortable sitting at
my moms old Scandinavian teak desk, now ensconced in the window of our second bedroom.
Through all of 2016, I came to appreciate more than ever my family (including those acquired via
Marilyn) and my friends, old and new. I most sincerely wish you all fulfilling new year.