ABOUT THE BLOGGER



Portrait by Margo Bendery

     A funny thing happened on the way to my nineties. I discovered that life was as enjoyable as ever. Although I railed against Father Time for leaning on my head and scrunching me down into a little old lady, still, the perks are many: 

• accepting with pleasure the fact that my formerly plebeian knee-length terrycloth robe is now luxuriously ankle length
• marveling over the miraculous arrival of 3 great-grandsons
• rejoicing that their parents don’t expect me to babysit
• driving twice a week to duplicate bridge games where partner and I seesaw between triumphant highs and ignominious lows
• learning to my wonderment that posts on this blog are being visited by hundreds of thousands in the U. S. and thousands in European countries. 
• editing daughter Kathie’s latest textbook on war and peace 
• dropping in on her blog, http://engagingpeace.com, with its sketches by Margo Bendery, our Vonnie’s childhood pal

     My deepest values are: Live and Let Live (my mother's philosophy), pro-choice, anti-bigotry,
pro women's and men's liberation.  Other profundities: Darwin yes, God maybe, tea parties, no. 

     I'm getting a lot of this stuff from an album, "Grandmother Remembers," given to me when my first grandchild, Teddy, was born on January 4, 1979.  The album asked, what are you most proud of? Answers:  my first, second, third and fourth child, my first published article, my first solo, Kathie's winning tenure at BU, teaching from her wheelchair after an automobile accident in 1965, my children's parenting skills, Vonnie's incredibly great letters, Ted's stepping up to raise Michael after Vonnie died in an automobile accident in 1976, Timmy's articles in National Fisherman and his helpful computer expertise, and staying friends with my ex-husband.
     Another album topic:  "Everyone thought I shouldn't, but I'm glad I. . . married young."  In those days you were bounced out of college if you got married (which had seemed like a neat idea to me, since I was pregnant). 

     My mother, at first crushed, became devoted to Ed.  She dedicated one of her books, The Story
of Lengthwise, to him: "To my son-in-law, Edward W. Malley, Jr. and his wife, Barbara, under whose merry roof this story was written." 

SISTER JANETH'S HAND ON DICK'S SHOULDER -- THE REST
 OF HER CROPPED BECAUSE IT WAS UNFAIRLY UNFLATTERING

A BETTER LIKENESS OF MY PRETTY SISTER

     My second mother, Vaughan, always my champion from the time I was eight, also learned to love the man she had begged me not to marry.  Her last words to us, called out when we were leaving after after a visit to her nursing home:  "Goodbye, Eddie!"
     But who is Isha?
     Esther Monk, who was my helper for ten years, asked five-year-old Kathie why she called her grandmother Isha.  Kathie looked surprised at the question and said, "Because that's her name."
     Yes, that was her name, all right, and now it's mine and my sister Janeth's.  The tradition started with my grandfather, Camden M. Cobern, an archaeologist and Methodist minister. When he and my grandmother had their first grandchild, my brother Richard in 1915, they chose to be called Ish and Isha, meaning man and wife, derived from the Book of Genesis.