When Memories Converge after a Quarter-Century Apart

Sunday, November 17, 2019

I just returned from the PAMLA conference in San Diego, during which Linda and I were able to get together for breakfast with my brother Jim and his spouse, Mercedes. I had hoped to be able to visit Fort Rosecrans, but the conference was non-stop, and so my brother — without whose assistance our mother would not have received the quality of care with which she became familiar and accustomed to — went there instead and took pictures of the plaque marking the reunion of our father and mother.

With her death and internment occurring as the first week of the semester got underway, I have hardly had time to grieve and come to terms with the ambivalence of that grief. It’s hardly a surprise that almost no accommodation was made for that. The only odd part is that people who would probably be offended if you insinuated that they supported a certain politician have no problem at all with joining an institutional shrug of indifference to the encroachments of sorrow on one’s ability to perform well at one’s tasks.

Mohr Plaque - Jim 1

Mohr plaque - Jim Flowers

(photographs by Jim Mohr)

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