Nora Ephron
Like you, I was struck by the death of Nora Ephron. I kept saying to Bill, “I can’t believe it.” Tears surprised me.
Nora spoke to me through her books (Her last one, I Remember Nothing, is reviewed in the left sidebar.) She made me laugh, and I passed her books around to my friends. Like you, I felt as if she and I were friends. I can’t believe such a vibrant, creative, insightful, witty, valuable life is gone.
And yet.
I’m unhappy now, made so by feelings of disagreement with my old friend. As I reread I Feel Bad About My Neck, I was struck by the negativity in her words. Here are some examples:
Every so often I read a book about age, and whoever’s writing it says it’s great to be old. It’s great to be wise and sage and mellow: it’s great to be at the point where you understand just what matters in life. I can’t stand people who say things like this.
That would be me. Here’s another:
Sometimes I go out to lunch with my girlfriends — I got that far into the sentence and caught myself. I suppose I mean my women friends. We are no longer girls and have not been girls for forty years.
Sigh. What a worldview. Lastly:
But the honest truth is that it’s sad to be over sixty. The long shadows are everywhere–friends dying and battling illness. A miasma of melancholy hangs there, forcing you to deal with the fact that your life, however happy and successful, has been full of disappointments and mistakes, little ones and big ones. There are dreams that are never quite going to come true, ambitions that will never quite be realized. There are, in short, regrets.
I Feel Bad About My Neck was published in 2008. We now know that Nora was suffering from leukemia at the time, and I’m flattened by the fact that she could write (at all), write things that were funny, and keep her illness a secret while ensuring that her show went on. What a champ.
But a certain part of me wants to – needs to – live in denial of mortality, so for my mental health, I’m going to keep referring to myself and my friends as girls, or even the hick-ish gals. I’m not “full of regrets” even though I’ve experienced (and caused) great pain in my life. I respect the pain, but I need to sublimate it and move forward with anticipation and excitement.
Nora, I’ll never be half the person you were. Rest in peace, girl.
She has left a legacy. Every one of her books were perfect at the time I read them. I gave them to a friend who just turned 50 this week. She is reading, laughing and told me that you have to be into your 50’s to come close to appreciating her profound humor. Now what will I read when I turn 70? Something you have written perhaps?
Toni, I promise to write something for you. If only I can write half as well as Nora!
An inspiration ! RIP NE and thanks, Lynne
My life too was shaped by Nora’s writing. Although, I agree that the sentiments expressed in her last book were negative, I understand the source of the bitterness. Bearing chronic pain and illness wears down one’s spirit and chips away at one’s soul. But Nora, never one to mince her words, remained honest and true to her self until the end. Thanks for sharing this heartfelt reflection on an admirable woman’s courage in her last act. I only wish she could be around to hear the applause at the last curtain call.
Pat, I know you speak with authority on the issue of chronic pain and illness. Would you consider doing a post on your blog about how to get through it? It would benefit so many.
Lol. Old age does have its perks. It’s got a lot of awful things too. I sure would never want to go back to any time previous to where I am – loose neck and all. Now I’m going to have to go read her stories 🙂
For most of my 60 years, I have been such an optimist and so extremely naïve yet it has provided me with a great deal of life. Now, I really focus on each moment for what it is–as best I can without interpretation–rather than running down the road to “fix” what may or may not be coming, my usual modus operandi. I do find the change most fulfilling, and I find myself a lot less in the future or the past but I do have my moments in those, too.
Great post.
Karen
Karen, I have a comparison: I was a naive writer at first. I didn’t know how hard it would be or how much I would do wrong – hundreds of pages of wrong. If I had been less “optimistic and naive”, as you say, I never would have started. Sometimes that’s better. Best wishes with staying in the moment.
On any given day, it sucks to be old and it’s awesome to be an elder. I have adjusted to the face in the mirror, the batwing underarms, the butt that’s so low to the ground, it’s practically a shovel. I have not quite adjusted to the spring that’s coming soon that I may not see, the autumn winds I’ll miss, and the heavy snowfall I won’t stick my tongue out in. My mother started collecting bittersweet at a certain age. I think I know why.
Zig, I shouldn’t laugh but I loved your shovel comment. Yah, we die. Big surprise. I’m beginning to think the trick is to pretend otherwise for as many hours of the day as possible.
I loved Nora and her work, and I have to believe that she knew she was facing her own mortality and that was reflected in what she wrote. As a 61 year old woman, I try not to look back, but ahead to all the bright days yet to come.
Laura
There’s no downside to that, Laura.
Lynne, thank you for your comments on Nora Ephron. Your take and her take on life may differ, just as maybe yours and mine do. I know your POV is to see the upside, and to live life in a positive manner, after a certain age, as you write in your blog, I don’t agree with you,
We all want to make that effort to be strong, healthy, and positive, but I think you know we can’t all see these same things in the same way. We can only try to do our best, with what we’ve been give, pushing that best to give life a more positive view.
I laugh as much as I can. I spin life around to see it in as much light as I can. But there are just times when the physical body thumbs its nose at you. Hurting, either physically or mentally, can weaken that resolve.
As writers, we live in all of those moments; and as writers, we are to see those moments to enable us to write about them, being careful not to be bested by our own, not so sunny side, of those words.
Lynne, a typo! I meant this to read, “I DON’T DISAGREE” with you. 🙂
Kathy, you’re not the only one pacing the floor at 3 a.m. It’s just a matter of trying to deal with the inevitable. Sometimes I get real negative, and then I drink too much wine and wallow. After a while, I get sick of myself and shake it off until next time. We all cope the best we can.
My comment disappeared when I tried to post it. . . I wonder if that’s a message from the Universe.:-)
I need to preface this by saying that my general rule is to make my comments as positive as possible because I believe there’s enough bitterness in the world.
That said, I’m actually encouraged to read these words from Ephron. I’m really struggling with the pressure to be happy about being older. I’m not.
I know that it’s all about frame of mind and my own attitude toward it, but I’ve tried, really, really tried to stay young at heart and in mind and in body and in spirit.
I read what you and others write desperately hoping your optimism and joie de vivre will catch on, but it doesn’t.
I’m grateful that she was honest. Knowing that someone as accomplished and well-loved as she was had regrets actually makes me feel better. Not that she had regrets, but that it’s ok that I do.
Hippie, I respect that you have feelings unique to your own reality and experience. I wouldn’t want to tell anybody what they should feel. My own deal isn’t the same as yours. I would venture that what we do have in common is the struggle to find meaning, assess value (good or bad) to our experience, and in a million different ways get through it the best we can. Thanks for your thoughts. Stop by again. You won’t have any gauntlet to run next time!
I was stunned to hear of Nora’s death, too, Lynne. She wrote some entertaining things, and her voice was silenced too soon. Still, I find myself agreeing with your perspective, Sistah — we know we’re mere mortals, but I don’t want to dwell on that. I want to look into my female friends’ eyes and see them as the “girls” they once were, to celebrate the friendships we’ve made, to embrace life (with all its challenges and joys) for as long as we can! I don’t know if it’s “sad to be over sixty.” I know that every day, I find people younger than I am listed in the paper’s obituary column. I suspect they had regrets, too.
Debbie, thanks. I know we all have that “Nora side” to us, the dark side. But what’s the upside of letting it take over? We’re alive! Let’s enjoy it!