HARRIET'S JOURNALS/WRITINGS

 Selections from

"A Book of Random Thoughts & Observations _______!"

Harriet Arlene Liftman '70

1967-68

9/12/67

The Best Advise I Ever Heard (if only I could learn to take it!)

"Life is right now - & if you take it you know you'll get the biggest amo

unt.

There's only one way to make it - makin' every minute count.

While you're hung up on yesterday you're missin' all the good times today.

While you're hung up on tomorrow all the good now times are slippin' way."

11/67

"If it takes forever I will wait for you.

For a thousand summers I will wait for you.

Till you're back beside me."

12/3/67

Life is just a bright joyous flame atop a pure white candle.

Don't worry about the wax dripping off - just watch the shapes as they form."

12/29/67

"Live free & beauty surrounds you"

Always remember that - and - that happiness is just around the corner - waiting to be found.. and the darkest hour is just before dawn."

1/10/68

There is so much I can write right now - my change in attitude toward Howie - and I always said I'd know love when it came along.  I know every time I see him I can feel a big smile just spreading across my face..

I wonder if I do know what love is - Its a special felling - exciting? romantic?  I don't feel interested in seeing other boys now..

1/24/68

Thank you G_d for everything

My religion course

My friends

My greatest trip to Florida

Howie --

Thanks

1/26/68

...Should I write about Howie?  I feel really strongly now. - I hope I don't change my mind.  I'll die if he changes his.  "Time after time I tell myself that I'm so lucky to be loving you."

1/28/68

It's so funny - I can't write about this thing.  I'm so excited and happy I'm with him.  I can't wait to spend my life with him. I guess I really do love him and he loves me.  the rest of the stuff about getting lavaliere doesn't concern me.  I don't know if its good or not.  It will be hard to wait till next Xmas - but it now to soon?  Well, if he thinks so (& he's mixed up too) than I'll wit - I still think I'll marry him regardless - I have no ambition to go out and get other boys.  If someone fixes me up I'll go-, just to go out - if he is.  But it hurts an awful lot to think of him going out with other girls.. Sharon is really, really cute.

Howie & Harriet

When someone mentions his name & I start to smile so that my face cracks - that's love!

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Diary after 1/15/1999 Diagnosis

Non-small cell carcinoma of the lungs

1/19/99

I know that I have a lot to be grateful for. My family and the love that we are able to share are things that are priceless to me. I grew up in a loving home and can truly feel the strong emotions that pass between my mother and Bev and me. And I have helped to create a strong family and a home that is filled with love between Howie and Joel and Jesse and me. And not only are my children loving, but they are good people in every way that matters. These things have more meaning to me than anything else that I can think of.

Next are my friends. I wish it had never come to this, but I am so touched by all of the people reading out to me. It makes me feel very special and helps to know that I am not alone.

I have loads of material blessings. I have never wanted for anything and I am aware how fortunate I have always been.

Finally, just being here now is something for which I am grateful. Going to the library to borrow a book on tape, driving through the new white snow, just being able to think and feel are really good things. I know that, but I can't stop feeling sad that all of this will be lost to me much sooner than I ever though it would happen. If I could turn back time I wouldn't change a thing, but I just wish that it could go on longer and longer.

2/11/99

I can't believe that a month has passed since I've had a chance to write. In that time I have been through so many strong emotions that I can hardly catalogue them. Amazement that this is really happening to me, profound sadness that it is so, determination to work as hard as I can in as many ways as I can to beat this, frustration that there is no sure fire way to do that, no matter how much I desire it, surprise at the outpouring of support I have experienced from friends, acquaintances and even some people that I don't know, and even some joy at how close this horrible experience has brought Howie and me.

I've had four chemo sessions. They're not nearly as bad as I had feared. In fact aside from some discomfort as the Gemcitabine is going into the IV, the worst of it has been the grogginess secondary to taking the Compazine. But this week I went without it and only experienced the "fluy"  feeling the evening after the treatment, which going to bed has helped.

Sleeping has not been easy. I wake up many times a night and find it hard to fall back asleep. Staying in bed in the morning has been really difficult to get used to. As has my whole "new" life without work. I feel like I've lost a lot of my autonomy. I don't seem to make many decisions these days. I have very little control over anything that I do except for my social life. And that seems so much narrower. I can't be as busy or as active and I wonder what I have to think and talk about these days besides cancer. It's very discouraging.

Howie and I have had some talks about having a 50th birthday party for me this spring instead of in June (primarily because we're planning some kind of a trip with the kids.) I was initially very reluctant to do so. I seems somewhat pitiful to have a birthday celebration at this time. But we may go through with it anyway, taking Susan Block's advice that we acknowledge the situation and then go on from there. I'm still a bit nervous and upset about it, but we haven't decided yet.

We've also had some emotional upheavals over the trip we're attempting to plan. Here again it seems that we're severely limited by time, by my decreased energy level, by the unknown of what my health will be like in June, etc., etc., etc. I know that I should just bounce back and plan something easier and closer, and I can do this. But the knowledge that so much has changed in my life is very daunting.

And these aren't even the really important things. I listen to my friends beginning to plan their children's weddings and my heart breaks. I know that there is always a chance that I won't miss out on my children's adult lives, but I still despair that the chances are so small. Yet how can that be? I feel so well, how can I be so ill? I so much want someone in the medical community to tell me that I have a chance, but no one will say that to me. I am very strong and positive most of the time, but I can't maintain it consistently, especially in light of what those 'in the know' seem to think. It makes me feel like my life is a tragedy.

Going to the Healing Service last evening made me aware once again, that I need to heal my mind in order to not have this part of my life be a tragedy, but sometimes it's hard to evoke those feelings of wholeness and calmness in light of the reality of my illness. But I will keep trying.

July 12, 1999

Well, it has been months since I've written in this journal. I have had plenty of thoughts but always seemed to busy to sit down and write. Was I really so busy? Yes, in some ways. I've been running around a lot, trying to enjoy all of the time that I feel well enough to do so. The only times that I recall really wanting to write have been when the computer was unavailable, both in Toronto and Hilton Head. Strange.

Some of the stuff that has happened since early when I think I last wrote are the following

Trip to Marco Island and Boca with Joel. I really enjoyed being in Florida but started feeling weaker as I walked the beach at Marco Island. Things go worse at David and Susan's when I started to cough. I guess I'll never know if the dogs contributed to that, but I came home sick as one.

Then came the hellish period when I was on oxygen and in terrible pain for some reason. I couldn't move without chest and back pain and was on a hydroculator or heating pad all of the time. I was on very strong pain killers too, but eventually was able to get off of everything. It seemed that the treatment for pancreatic cancer was incorrect and that my lungs continued to fill with tumor during the period between Jan and mid March when I was on Gemcitabine. Once I was put on Taxol and Carboplatin, I began to improve slowly. It was a really miserable time. Yet as awful as I felt, somewhere in my head it didn't't feel like this could be a permanent situation for me. Was it simply that I was being unrealistic, or was what I felt in my head and my heart really truer than what I felt in my body.

Finally, when I started to feel better, we had my 50th birthday party in late April. That was a wonderful high. Despite the expense, I think that it was an experience that I wouldn't't trade.

That was followed by feeling gradually better, although despite the disappearance of the rib/muscle pain when I "overdue" and the heaviness on my chest periodically, the days after chemo are difficult and with each treatment seem to get more so. I'm tired than I have ever thought I could be despite very minimal exertion.

Despite all that is going on, I can say that it has been a good few months. I am enjoying all that I have been doing with friends and family and now that I have decided to see a few clients (only Lily for individual therapy and Michael Brand for Fast ForWord) I am even psyched about that. I know that Howie questions why I want to do this, but if I can feel whole and competent without taking away too much of my freedom, it seems like a good thing to do. And bringing in a few checks feels very important to me now.

But back to friends and family. Howie has been incredible. Without his emotional support and help I know I would be a much sadder person right now. I always knew that he was a good husband despite all of our differences, but in this time of crisis he is truly amazing. I hope that I can learn from him.

My mom has been there for me too in her own way. She really helped when I was at my worst in March. It has been hard for me to accept speaking with her daily on the phone, especially now that things are on an even keel and I really have nothing to report. I know that her concern is deep and genuine. I only hope that my health isn't getting in the way with her living her own life right now. I can't really tell if she has slowed down some naturally or because of her caution over wanting to save herself for me.

The kids are even harder for me to read. I think that they want to believe that everything will turn out fine (who doesn't't) and I try to behave very normally with them. But then I can't really tell the level of their concern. Still, when I've needed them, they've been there for me, joining us for vacations, etc.

Finally, my friends have been my lifelines. Without all of the plans and activities and help, I would really be down. I do know how lucky I am.

If I have anything to say about this, I am determined that I will beat the cancer and it will all turn out well. I have been lucky so far with the progress of the disease and with how well my life is going. I hope that my luck won't change.

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Written by Harriet as her first assignment in the writing course "Writing From Your Own Experience" offered by the Boston Learning Society.  She started just on September 27, 1999 just 3 weeks prior to her passing.

Week 1 assignment

September 27, 1999

I walk into my dining room, turn on the lights in the glass-doored china closet and stand looking at the hundred odd pieces of lusterware that I’ve collected over the past two decades. As I look, I experience much more than the sight of shining gold dishes whose color is evocative of pale sunlight accented by a silvery blue that is reminiscent of cool, sparkling moonlight. My mind enters a realm in which I appreciate not only the beauty in front of me but I also feel a strong sense of mystery, excitement, joy, personal family history and legacy as well.

The particular lusterware pattern that I collect is hand painted with delicate dogwood flower petals. Who painted this wonderful design? Woman or man? Artist or worker? What was this person thinking and feeling as he or she worked on the cups, sauces, cake plates, coffee and teapots, sugar bowls and creamers?

My mom has a similar collection. But her set is the opposite of mine, blue with golden accents. When she was first married in 1946, her mother in law (my grandma Jean, who evokes a whole slew of feelings and memories herself because of her strong personality and her decline into Alzheimer’s and both their effects on my family) brought her new daughter in law the remnants of a tea set. It had been given to her early in her own marriage, around 1920. In the intervening years her daughters had played with the set, breaking many of the pieces while they held tea parties for their dollies. Still, grandma must have felt that there were enough intact pieces to make the set still usable.

My mother accepted the "gift" somewhat reluctantly, but was delighted a few weeks later when her aunt, (my great aunt Rachel, a sweet, simple and loving younger sister to my maternal grandmother) saw the pieces when she visited the newlyweds’ apartment and mentioned that she had several matching pieces leftover from and old china set and would gladly bring them to my mom to help her complete her set.

And complete her set she eventually did! As friends and family members saw the collection displayed in her china cabinet, it’s sheen; delicacy and pretty colors left an impression, at least vaguely. In their trips to flea markets, antique shops, and cleaning out the closets for elderly relatives, they occasionally came across odd pieces that reminded them of what they’d seen in my mom’s house. Sometimes they hit the nail directly on the head (like the wonderful blue flowered pitcher that exactly matched the coffee and teapots already possessed.) In this way, the set filled out to a greater and greater extent. Sometimes the donators had a bit more trouble with their memory, bringing her gold china with blue trim, instead of vice versa. Since this isn’t exactly what she was collecting, my mom put these in a lower drawer and didn’t think much about them

I certainly didn’t think about them either. Until one Thanksgiving morning, while setting the table in my parent’s dining room I pulled open a drawer and say the golden colored set. I asked my mom about them and for the first time that I can recall, I heard the history (or her story) of the lusterware set that I had looked at in the china cabinet for years. I was intrigued and did not hesitate for more than a moment to volunteer to take the "extras" off her hands. Shortly after we returned from N.J. to Mass. My small collection was arranged in my own china closet.

Over the last two decades, and especially as my sons have grown and I’m left with a bit more free time, I’ve spent some of it in and out of consignment shops and at collectibles fairs. Thank heaven that I can look for lusterware. Otherwise I’d be completely overwhelmed as my eyes sweep over the shelves and tables filled with china. As I catch a glimpse of the shiny treasure for which I’m searching I feel a jolt of recognition and joy! In my travels I’ve found items as diverse as a biscuit jar, a celery dish, a wall sconce, sake set and relish containers. Some in my golden pattern with blue accents and others passed directly on to my mom, primarily blue with gold. I’ve been successful in my search in such places as Seattle, New Orleans, Savannah, Cape Cod, Florida and Grapevine Texas, on business trips with my husband, on family vacations, with my mom, sister in law, with friends and on lone excursions.

Once when my husband was away on a trip without me, he proudly came home with a large parcel, telling me that he had gotten me something that I’d love for my anniversary. As we opened it together, his eyes glowed and my face fell. It was an entire lusterware coffee set. The golden color was perfect, but the design was one with a pagoda on a pond next to a willow tree. Nothing like the white dogwood petals that he had been looking at in dining room for at least a dozen years at that time. Oh well, it’s the thought that counts. It now sits in my china closet along with my "other" set and has begun a story of its own.

Recently, two of my friends have realized that they’ve seen similar pieces in their parents’ homes. They’re captivated by the pretty pattern and intrigued by the idea that the dishes are now at least eighty years old, wondering what stories go with the pieces that are in their families. They’re even psyched to start their own collections, but hopefully the patterns in which they’re interested are different from mine so they won’t be competition for me!

My sons have heard my lusterware stories, but are not yet at the points in their lives when they can appreciate the stories and the china as I do. Perhaps they never will be. Maybe they will. Or, perhaps, even better, someday they will have wives (and even daughters?) who will be interested in, appreciate and take to their hearts my pieces of lusterware and their history.

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Comment by Mopsy Kennedy - Instructor of the course.  Ms. Kennedy is a well-known writing teacher.  A guest editor at Mademoiselle and a feature writer for Glamour, she is a writer for the Globe Sunday Magazine and the Improper Bostonian.  Her work ahs also appeared in the New York Times Magazine, The New York Times Book Reviews, The Atlantic, Harper's Weekly, and Elle

October 8, 1999

Nice piece!  You manage to bring out the---almost-animate quality of the inanimate lulsterware (by the way-----capitalized?)

I think I know from your desription what it looks like---vaguely translucent?

What I like is the wonderful continuity/family story element to this--as if the Lusterware (I will so honor the company!) almost had a will to be found by your family.

"Who painted this wonderful design"-is a great observation, and one I've made myself. Isn't it weird that things that mean so much to us (clothes, for instance, that partly define us) are made by people we never meet?  It's a bit Buddhist to think about this.

I also like the element of the chase---surprise--randomness, even disappointment-wrapped-around-with-affection (the "wrong" Lusterware.)

A few (minor) suggestions--You might want to go through it and see where descriptions--including Blue and Gold (words0 --may blur a bit together. Differentiate the different-somehow.

Wherever you'be squashed a relative into a parenthesis--let em out!-and describe/define them in a very brief phrase, quote, or something that brings them into the piece, easily, quickly, relevantly.

I have this concept of "the Bellybutton"--which is a sentence, somewhere floating around a first-person piece that, in a slightly more objective, Stand-Away way, from a rhetorically different "place"--somehow sums up some point/observation the piece wants to let you know.  It may actually say , in its own more distanced voice--what the piece is about, or it may be more of a little fragment that hints at that.

This isn't it---but something about how china-and this china in particular--unifies your family over time, with sideroads into other patterns, including adventure. suspense, hope-and-disapointment and quest--and gives you a feeling of connecting up and down the
generations. "Down" to those future daughter in laws!

"My sons have heard..."--is there room to comically comment on what plates they use, at this point? Mc.Donald's Mickey Mouse Centennial Glasses, for instance (I mock not; I want to get some for myself!) But--whatever--to make the contrast of tastes and styles over time  more specific.

Now that--I hope--the traffic has subsided-we  are going to R.I> for the weekend. By class consensus, we have NO CLASS on Monday the llth.

Hope you're feeling  MUCH! better.

I like the fact that your husband has a Novacaine Name!

Best, Mopsy

p.s. Tell him I floss in the car! At stoplights!  It gets the job done, doesn't ionvolve hi=-tech, and you can see all in those car mirrors.

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Dear Dr. Husband,

I was very sorry to hear about Harriet and grateful to you for letting me know.

The whole class was very saddened and shocked--people commented on how luminous and upbeat she looked when we met her in the first class.  They said to send their collective good wishes to you.  Several people either knew her through her work, through your kids, or through bringing their children to you.

I so admire the fact that she--not only--chose to take a class at such a time, but that she managed to write something that turned out to be so touching and well done and to have the energy to elicit comments.  I will continue to mention this to my class as evidence that spark of creativity and effort can exist even in the most trying circumstances.

I'm sure you will save Harriet's lusterware piece for your children and eventual grandchildren--really a wonderful legacy.  She couldn't have picked a better subject to express a whole-life and several-generations story--so I'm sure it's precious to you.

I hope you're doing okay, and I again appreciate your sturdy interventions to keep this connection going,

Best,

Mopsy Kennedy

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A PROMISE

by Harriet L. Needleman

"Can you come mommy, can you?" Betsy pleaded eagerly as she tugged on her mother’s briefcase, looking directly into Susan Creamer’s eyes.

"Wait a minute, just wait," Susan answered tiredly. "First let me put my things down and pay Mrs. Samuels for babysitting. Then we’ll talk about it."

Susan wrote out the check quickly and handed it to the sitter saying "no need to come tomorrow, Mrs. Samuels. As long as I stayed so late this evening preparing for the morning meeting, I’ll be coming home early to be with Betsy after school."

She walked the sitter to the door with Betsy following close behind. As the front door closed, the child began hopping from one foot to the other as she repeated her request "…so can you come, mom?"

Back in the living room, Susan sank into a chair. She kicked off her shoes and said with a sigh, "now, tell me again what the problem is, honey."

Betsy answered in a rush. "The class trip is tomorrow, remember? And Jen Miller’s mother was supposed to come with us. But Jen is sick and her mother called school at the end of the day to say she won’t be coming."

The little girl stopped for a breath and then went on. "So we need a mother to come on the trip to help and all. And last spring when you couldn’t come with the first grade to the swan boats, you promised that the first trip this year you would. You did promise, so I told the teacher, and she said that she would call you tonight to give you all the information. O.K.? Can you come?"

"Oh no," thought Susan, "not tomorrow, of all days…the final budget meeting is scheduled for tomorrow morning, and I have to be there." She started to tell Betsy that it just wasn’t possible for her to come on the class trip this time ether, when she saw the hopeful look in the seven year old’s face. Susan suddenly could not bring herself to say the words. Instead, she told Betsy "I’ll talk to your teacher about it when she calls and see if she really wants me to come. But it’s bedtime for you now, sweetie. Let’s go brush your teeth and then I’ll kiss you goodnight."

Susan was quiet as she tucked Betsy under the covers, kissed her and turned out the light, saying only "see you in the morning, love." Her mind was whirling and her stomach was churning as she left the room in despair, thinking "Oh what should I do? What can I do? The budget meeting can’t be postponed. Why did I make that promise last spring? Betsy will be so disappointed. I wish I could rearrange that meeting."

Pacing the living room to release the growing tension within her, Susan began to feel almost angry. "Darn it" she said aloud and then thought to herself, "I’ve worked toward a job as good as this one for four years, ever since Dan left us. And I’ve only had it for a month. How can I be the one to reschedule the meeting? It involves eight other people including the president of the company. Who knows when they can all make it again? Oh why did both of these things have to come up on the same day?" Susan realized that she was actually beginning to feel sick as she visualized herself telling Betsy that she could not accompany the class on the trip after all.

And then it hit her…"sick! What if I really were sick? What would I do then? I would simply have to cancel the meeting and arrange it for another time!" She took a deep breath. "Well, if a schedule could be rearranged for a stomach virus, it can be rearranged for something as important as a promise to a seven year old as well" she told herself with conviction.

She smiled to herself as a sense of relief, almost a sense of peace spread through her. Her body as well as her mind immediately began to relax. The decision made, Susan no longer felt torn, in fact she realized, she felt wonderful.

"Why am I feeling this good all of a sudden?" she asked herself. "I still have to deal with rescheduling the meeting. But I feel as satisfied as if I’d just cleared the new date with the others without a single hitch!" And then all at once she knew. "It’s because I’m doing what I really wanted to do all along. I know I won’t be able to do this every time something comes up, but I did promise this time and deep down inside, I guess I wanted to keep the promise."

Susan walked toward the telephone, thinking about whom she would notify first and how complicated the process would be. Just as she was about to lift the receiver, the phone rang. She picked it up immediately, expecting Betsy’s teacher to answer her "hello." But instead it was a man’s voice on the other end of the line. Susan realized before he identified himself that it was the company president calling her at home.

Giving her little time to wonder what this rather unapproachable, very businesslike man wanted at nine o’clock in the evening, he launched into an immediate apology. "I’m awfully sorry to have to change your schedule on such short notice, especially since I know that you’ve been working very hard preparing for this budget meeting. But I’m going to have to put it off until next week."

Clearing his throat, he went on. "You see, my son is going to appear in a school play tomorrow morning, but I somehow wrote it onto my calendar for next Friday."

Susan managed to respond with only an "oh?" before he continued with his own train of thought.

"I realize that this will inconvenience you and several others, but I promised him that I would be there and I think that it is really important for a child to know that he can rely on a parent’s promise. I hope you understand, but to a child, a promise means a lot."

"Oh yes, I understand perfectly" Susan answered him. "And I agree. To a child, and to a parent also, a promise can mean an awful lot."