September 9, 2009
We Lost a Friend Today
Well, yesterday, actually, but we found out today.
Victoria was a Tory (a Thatcher Tory), and a Republican (dual citizenship, you see, with a home on each side of the pond) — and a nurse who worked through the London blitzkriegs (and who came home one day to find a gaping hole where her house used to be) with nary a tear (you want to know the meaning of “stiff upper lip”? Vicki personified it), and later she was a fashion designer.
She spoke with an accent — “posh,” not “common” — as crisp, and clipped, and thick as that of a girl fresh out of boarding school, and her mind was as clear and sharp as her diction.
“Strong-willed” doesn’t begin to describe her. Nor does “tough.” She was not a sweet little old lady who sat knitting and nodding and smiling vacantly; she was hard as hell, and had forged more than a few… un-friends over her long lifetime.
And yet she could be indescribably warm — if she knew you, and trusted you. (She did not trust many people. She did not like many people.) That she called me “sweetie” on occasion was, I knew, something very special indeed. That, I was once told, by someone who knew our cultural differences better than I, was not something to take for granted. Why she liked me that much, I don’t know; maybe because I was as strong-willed as she, and never backed down… maybe because I never backed down to her.
Those times we were alone — say, when I’d take her and her car to the mechanic’s, or come over to fix her computer, or when we had a word apart between the hors d’oeuvres and the meal at Thanksgiving — she often expressed appreciation that we could discuss matters of importance (politics, religion) one wasn’t supposed to discuss in polite company, and come out the other end still friends, whether we agreed, or agreed to disagree. (For the first three-quarters of the Bush Regime, we agreed to disagree.)
And, strangely enough, I was happy to agree to disagree; here was someone at the other end of the political spectrum who argued with me with logic, with reason. There is no “winning” with a friend, but in the end, I know she came around on many, many issues. But even if she hadn’t, ever, she would have remained my friend, and I hers.
Yes, friendship can transcend politics — but it can never transcend values. I think — no, I know — we both learned we shared the same values, if not always the same politics.
Victoria was ninetysomething — I stopped counting after her 95th birthday some years ago, when we took her to brunch at Michael’s.
She survived her husband, and she survived her son.
She was a gifted (and award-winning) photographer. She kept pigeons (who does that anymore?), one of which lived more than 30 years.
There was no question we would invite her to our wedding — and no question that she would come.
And she supported us, and loved us.
She was thrilled for us.
And she was our friend.
And…
And it’s hard to say goodbye.
Thank you, Vicki, for everything.
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Filed Under: R.I.P.
