A Celebration of the Life of Marilyn Moosnick

I first met Marilyn when she recruited me to raise money for the renovation of our Opera House in Lexington. I think it was full of pigeon poop at that time. What a delight to be part of that effort. The Opera House anchors the corner of Broadway and Short and gives hundreds of organizations a place to perform.

Next Marilyn took me on a tour of the empty YMCA building to talk about renovating it for the Lexington Council of the Arts now LexArts. That led to years of involvement with that organization and my service on that board for over six years. Another anchor for the arts in Lexington.

I had just married Robert “Bart” Bartella when I met Marilyn. Bart was 32 years older than I. Marilyn chuckled when she told me about when she and Franklin first married. While the age difference was only twelve years, the greater gossip fodder was that Marilyn was Christian and Franklin was Jewish. She assured me the interest in mine and Bart’s marriage would get old with time and become very boring to gossipers.

One night many decades after meeting Marilyn, we were chatting at the airport as we each waited for a family member. When Franklin came down that escalator, the rest of the world faded away. As I watched them embrace and gaze into each other’s eyes, I saw the kind of love that can bridge whatever differences individuals may bring to the relationship. This kind of love encouraged Marilyn to convert to Judaism and lend her considerable talents to all manner of Jewish organization including being national President of Hadassah.

When Southern Baptists were first becoming radicalized, I was still Baptist (although even then a member of a very progressive Baptist church). Some of the evangelist actions of the Baptists during this time were extremely offensive to Jews. Marilyn pulled me aside at a wedding we both attended and said, “Brenda, what can we do about this? How can we build a bridge that will be beneficial for all?”

Building bridges, sparking change, inspiring others, encouraging involvement---that’s just who Marilyn was.

Rest in eternal peace, dear friend. Your work here was well done.

    

Why Can't LOVE be simple?

This post was inspired by the novel, Carry Yourself Back to Me by Deborah Reed. A copy of this book was given to me by virtue of my membership in www.fromlefttowrite.com.  This is not a review of the book.

Deborah Reed sets up a story for us that highlights all the ramifications of loving others, loosing those we love and learning to forgive. Like many good stories, it is a universal tale of love.

The book instigated my thinking about the complexity of loving others, a proposition that is rarely, if ever, simple. Perhaps the most pure form of love is mother for child but even that can sometime be made complicated by circumstances. What if you have to give that child up for some reason? What if you have initiated the pregnancy as part of a scheme to get the money required for the survival of the rest of your family? Why can’t even that purest of all loves be simple?

A favorite John Lynner Peterson photo says it all about  LOVE!

I have a new friend and a very old friend who are staying in loveless marriages for their own complicated reasons—in spite of loving someone else! Why can’t love be simple?

I have loved more than a few alcoholics in my family. That is truly a complicated love that many people have experienced. Why can’t love be simple?

And then there is the complicated love we experience as parents when we learn there is an expiration date on children following our wishes and demands. We learn that we love people even when they make decisions we disagree with and when we can no longer protect them from themselves. Why can’t love be simple?

I’m currently thinking the purest form of love is grandparent for grandchild. I revel each day in the simplicity of it. I don’t want the day to come when it will be more complex. I hope the most complicated disagreement we will ever have is whether Poppa will buy him a Happy Meal or not. I know that will not always be the case. Why can’t love be simple?

Have you experienced a simple love? What made it so?

Lessons from Tristan Robert Bartella on his Sixth Birthday

 Photo by John Lynner Peterson AKA Pappa-razzi

Tristan has been six for some time now because most of the time when he was five, he would say, “I’m five years old but I’m six on the inside.” When asked how old he would be after today he says, “I’m six but I’ll let you know when I’m seven on the inside.” So I guess for today, he is content with six. It’s a great place to be in life when you’re content with your age.

As will all six year olds, Tristan values and social skills and ethics have been developing quickly the last few years. One evening when he was about four, I was playing cars with him. After a couple of races in which I allowed him to win, I made sure I won the next. He put his sweet little hand on mine and ever-so-gently said, “Mimi, let’s play nice and be friends.” Good advice for all of us.

When driving to church one Sunday morning, he said, “Mimi, you and Poppa use different words than my Mommy and Daddy.” We took that as a cue that he loved vocabulary words so we began the tradition of learning a new word each Sunday to share with our friend Don Lichtenfelt at church. Then one Sunday as this tradition was taking place, another friend, Jeannette Lucas remarked, “Oh, Tristan, you are a sesquipedalian. I am, too!” So Tristan has learned to tell you that he is a sesquipedalian and what that means. But when I asked if he had told his new first grade teacher about his love of words, he replied, “Mimi, she’s not like you. She doesn’t care about all those words.” I suspect he got that wrong and I also suspect that he doesn’t want to draw undue attention to himself. Another good lesson---especially for introverts---don’t shine the light on yourself unless you’re sure you want the world looking at you.

The best lesson to learn from Tristan is about love. You don’t have to wonder if you’re loved by him---he will tell you and he will include you in his prayers. A model we should all emulate. Emulate---that might be a good word for tomorrow!

Happy happy birthday, my dearest Tristan.