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Finding Moral Support When It's Needed Most By Donald M. Murray, Globe Correspondent, 12/23/2003 When you reach the Age of Reflection, the holidays make the life you have lived a slide show, and events you did not think important become significant as you study them. I see a 29-year-old bespectacled young man being led into a private dining room in a famous restaurant. I think it is the first time he has been in a private dining room. The older men socialize around him, showing him how it would be to become one of them. He does not understand why he has been invited, but he is wise enough to smile, look interested, speak little, and wait. After dessert it becomes clear: He is invited to become the editor of a metropolitan newspaper published morning, evening, and Sundays. Even knowing it really happened, it seems unreal. They are talking salary, even stock options, and although I am the young man and know how full I was pumped of ambition, I say no. No hesitation. No doubt. They are surprised, but I am not. I am a writer, not an editor. My assurance amazes me now. I wasn't confident I would succeed as a writer. Just the opposite, but it was the work I wanted to do. They reassured me I could be an editor. With the arrogance of youth, I knew I could. I am never sure I can write well to this day, but I was confident I could be an editor. It really wasn't an issue. I didn't want to be an editor. They suggested I talk it over with my wife. I said no. They asked me to think it over. I thanked them for the offer but remained firm in my rejection -- and I have never looked back. Fifty years later, I examine this moment as if it were captured in amber, turning it around slowly. At this distance I am surprised at my calm wisdom. During this examination of that lunch I celebrate Minnie Mae. We talked over most decisions, but not this one. I was certain of her support, and I was right. She understood and never spent an imaginary dollar of that salary, which was many, many times my $175 a week. Since they wanted me to become an editor and I wanted to become a writer, I accepted an offer to write for Time. After 1 1/2 years, Minnie Mae and I talked all night about how I hated the magazine's group writing. She said that I should find a way to leave and write for myself and that we would make it somehow. The next morning, I found a way. I was fired, and Minnie Mae celebrated my fortunate failure. I do not forget her support of my ambitions as I support her on the long, slow Parkinson's trips to the bathroom. I can control the slide show of memory, and I study the ups and the downs, rediscovering our marriage, constant, certain, sure. She was a lifeline in heavy seas and a balance when we had giddy success. We will exchange presents this Christmas as always, but Minnie Mae gave me her life 52 years ago next Sunday. Nothing less. And I gave mine to her. So we toddle off to the john in the middle of the night holding hands, sure that we will be there for each other as we have been for a lifetime. SOURCE: The Boston Globe http://tinyurl.com/37gzk * * * ---------------------------------------------------------------------- To sign-off Parkinsn send a message to: mailto:[log in to unmask] In the body of the message put: signoff parkinsn