22 February 2014: Saturday ... I found Maude Carey or she found me at the Y at the coffee station ("Rudy Nyhoff?") ... dinner at the Farmhouse with Gail tonight ... bowtie bought for annual event starting tomorrow (courtesy Gordon Roth) ...

FROM THE ANNALS OF ADVERSITY: I saw it coming and could do nothing to stop the spillage of many of the pills from mom's 7-day, 4-chamber pill case, all over the floor of my bedroom closet. Oh, the feelings of anger and the words but it was cleaned up easily, especially when the small flashlight, held in my mouth, illuminated corners where a few Vicodin hid, but from this adversity, this pain-in-the-butt accident in the morning led to me finding a nice sweater, something lacking in my wardrobe. From an irritant to a delight, one must see through the anger of the moment and see what light might be revealed by moving forward and taking care of business. 

I was accosted, not really, by a woman, who I did not recognize initially, who queried ... "Rudy Nyhoff?" ... at the coffee/tea station in the main hallway of the Western "Y". When I took a closer look, she said her name, ***MAUDE CAREY***. What a revelation this morning and such a joy. 

She has been married since just after graduation from U of D to another graduate, Buddy Niedzielski (5 years her senior), and they have lived in the same home in Montclare, just behind Dickinson High School, ever since. The have one daughter, Anastasia, who is a 3rd year med student at the University of Michigan. Her husband is recently retired attorney from the Justice Department, a graduate of Widener, before the era of Professor Hayman. Maude is also a law graduate but did not pursue it. She is in the insurance industry.
                        WHAT A JOY TO SEE HER AFTER ALL THESE YEARS!!!!

I hold within me hatreds that can come to the surface and it is so difficult to look within and evaluate oneself honestly. I cannot separate from myself, stand away and look back at my actions and determine whether my path is correct. Judgmental is a state that is common in my being and tonight at dinner I displayed it in earnest. Our dear friend spoke of her experience in Australia in a godforsaken town (Oodnadatta, in the Australian state of South Australia) far out in the Outback with a couple hundred residents, far from civilization. I felt she disrespected the Aborigines by calling them "Abos" (sic). What right did I have to play the role of judge and jury. They say you should stand up to injustice and racism, but what do I know of her true intentions. Why do I have to judge? 

On the drive home it is so easy to say things that are hurtful but at the time of their utterance, feel so right. Why do we have to feel as though we are so in the right that our own declarations salve our needs but pour lemon on the open wound we have created in our loved one. It is passing fast this life of ours and like the African-American woman minister spoke, so eloquently, last Sunday -- compassion is love's companion, it's most critical and vital one. May it be so.