Family reunion in Atlanta

Unless you have heard me go on about Stella, my spiritual mother of decades, you wouldn’t understand why John introduced me to his friend as “my big sister.” Looking at our faces (shown in the photo), you’d wonder, how? What’s up with that?

Simple. Since the late sixties, when I launched my first career as an early childhood educator, in Cambridge, MA, I met John, his parents and ten siblings. I immediately claimed them as mine. And neither time, nor distance, life, nor death has changed this relationship. So, of course, rearranging my schedule to catch up with this visitor from Hawaii was a no-brainer. (John is on an east coast tour seeking galleries, institutions, festivals, and marketplaces to show his art.)

John's youngest sibling, Karen, was among my first beautiful and brilliant Head Start students. When Karen, age six, arrived the first day of school with her sisters Esther and Linda, their expressions read: What kind of place is this? And who is this woman who calls herself teacher? Years ago, "baby" Karen earned a degree in education from Gallaudet College, married a fellow student (now, a professor at their alma mater), and has been mom to three great kids.

The photo shown here captures John's parents, Joe and Stella, in their garden, spring 2004.

Today, at age 87, Joe continues gardening, fishing, keeping bees, preparing meals (and sharing them with neighbors and guests) visiting shut-ins and nursing home residents, ministering to his flock, mentoring new church leadership, and welcoming family, friends, and seekers of his light. (The night before Yom Kippur we spoke, among other topics, about Unetaneh Tokef. I had been studying this prayer in the High Holy Day liturgy, and Joe asked me to read it aloud. We spoke our usual brief time — more than an hour, and only ending the call because of my bedtime!)

Stella, the woman whom I called "Inspiration" since our meeting that first Head Start year for Karen and for me, died 21 months ago, at age 83. She remains a tree of life — many roots, many branches: my beloved surrogate parent, adored sister, treasured friend — a total force for good.

Family. Bloodlines; yes, that is one way to be family. Marriage confers family status, too. And then, there is family of choice: the one we populate with people we claim and who claim us. It is so simple to accomplish. Reach across artificial divides. Remain open. And, only connect.