A Paean for Judy
by George Zidbeck
One of my favorite movies dates back to October, 1951, when I waited in Fort Lawton, Washington for shipment to Japan with a high probability of transfer to Korea, and who knew what thereafter? I had lots of time to visit Seattle, but hadn't yet received full pay in over two months. Had to watch my nickels and dimes if you know what I mean. In my barracks I talked to a fellow GI who had gone to town the day before to see a movie. He strongly recommended Cyrano (a movie scripted from the play, Cyrano de Bergerac, by Edmond Rostand).
I went into the heart of downtown Seattle the next day and bought a movie ticket. The production enthralled me; one scene remains indelibly etched into my gray matter. To wit: Jose Ferrer, acting the famed swordsman, Cyrano, stands at night under the balcony of his secret love, a cousin named Roxanne, who has no suspicion of his yearning for her. He speaks for her suitor who, ungifted with words, has asked Cyrano to speak in his behalf. Thus, with eloquence and passion in his own words yet spoken in behalf of another man seeking her hand, Cyrano extemporizes his feelings as if the words came from the suitor.
No need for me to present the entire monologue, but when Jose Ferrer says, "… when I hear the name Roxanne, it is as the ringing of the bells: Roxanne, Roxanne, Roxanne…." He sways side to side as if he is the clapper, and holds his hands over his heart. Soon after, he pleads for a kiss, which Roxanne grants, but it is not Cyrano who climbs the trellis to yon balconyl No, his eloquence wins her lips for the young suitor. Aw, go rent the movie if you haven't seen it. It's a romantic tearjerker, and not a vehicle for cold-hearted realists.
Well, the above preludes my current status. It's been sixty years since seeing that movie, but I wrote this epistle when my beloved reposed on a hospital bed in the next room. She breathed haltingly, her speech shortened thereby. Her memory waned. Her appetite nonexistent. We did not converse in a casual manner. More importantly, with her strength diminished, she said, "I'm ready for the end." Thus the time came for me to call my son and arrange to have him home. But, no matter the hours or days ahead, I envisioned my swaying at the foot of her hospital bed and shouting, Judy, Judy, Judy, my Judy, blessings and gratitude on you my Judy for what you have wrought….
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The journey of our marriage lasted fifty-five years and a few months. Over all, a wondrous trip! I often behaved as a solitary pilgrim forever voyaging into new adventures on strange shores. And, always, my Judy remained at home awaiting my return. More than wait, she kept the pilings anchored that supported our home(s) and hearth(s). Judy enabled my college graduation, notwithstanding the G.I. Bill delivering a monthly stipend that supplemented her waitress earnings. Judy prompted me to focus on our future: buying the first home in 1959 and then furnishing same – a slow but steady accumulation of many furnishings and accessories that allowed for comfort and security. We later moved three times before settling in Atascadero, California in the early summer of 1985 following my retirement in March of that year.
Impossible for me to place fixed values on those countless activities we shared for over five decades. Oh, how she loved to dance. Around, around, and around…. "Tell them to play a tango; please." Additionally, archery occupied her attention far more than those many other recreational outlets she undertook.
Whereas I as an archery companion for over thirty years might have won a prize in "C" class, she — within three years of taking up the sport — took first prize in "A" class in three separate divisions: Barestring, Freestyle, and Bowhunter. Although not inclined to hunt, she wanted to earn a spot in the (then all males) South Bay Archery Club, Inc.'s Big Game Club. Entry required a member killing a big game with bow and arrow. She earned a spot by downing a feral ‘billy' goat on Catalina Island back in the late 1970s. (And yes, we brought the meat back home and ate same.)
Further, her impish self required her to cut off the testicles and saucily throw them on a table back at the hunting-camp and tell the half dozen men there seated, "There, now I'm a member, and I don't want to hear any more talk about women not allowed in the Big Game Club."
For her, being busy defined her persona. Whether knitting, pottery, quilting, leather tooling, sewing, canning/dehydrating, or learning in 1999 how to operate a computer, Judy demonstrated outstanding tenacity and competence. In fact, in addition to her beauty, her mental quickness and deft fingers encouraged me to seek her hand.
Faultless? Well, no. Who the Hell is? However, not here will you read a litany of any failings on her part. Let that person without guile step forward sil vouz plait.
Ah, there be none; so why exhibit the flaws that attach to all? Therefore, focus on her virtues, i.e. her simple giggle that made all witnesses smile in return; her devotion to motherhood and wifeliness. And foremost, when it came to her immediate family and extended family plus friends, she exemplified selflessness.
Judy, my Judy, you said you were "ready to go." Even if I did not endorse that phrase in your behalf, I knew, and know still, that when Death demands payment, we must foreclose the present. We, who live on, might relive this or that choreography of a given relationship, but I choose not to recap the numerous highlights. I'll carry on with the overwhelming sense of what you meant to me and how much I loved you. Ah Sweetheart, I miss you so. Would that a Great By and By existed where we once again conjoin, but highly unlikely that even our atoms will come within each other's vibrations. Thus, Good Bye my love, goodbye. And thank you so very much!
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The above reflection, tense altered, was written about four days before my wife died. I commented to her that I felt the need to put some thoughts down to help me maintain control. She indicated she wanted to hear what I wrote. I admit, I read my words with throat constricted and struggled to keep from crying. Somehow I finished. When done, she looked at me and said, "That's too dramatic."
Wilma Jewell Anderson Kinney Zidbeck, better known as Judy, DOB 6-9-1927 /DOD 8-8-2010
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