Drifting Away

And when my mind is free
You know a melody can move me,
And when I’m feeling blue
The guitar’s coming through
To soothe me.
Thanks for the joy that you’ve given me.
I want you to know I believe in your song,
And rhythm and rhyme and harmony.
You helped me along
Makin’ me strong.

Oh, give me the beat boys and free my soul
I wanna get lost in your rock n roll
And drift away.
Give me the beat boys and free my soul
I wanna get lost in your rock n roll
And drift away.
(Drift Away - written by Mentor Williams & sung by Dobie Gray: 1972.)

On the evening of October 24, 2009, Kathy and I attended a special Saturday mass at the Cathedral of Our Lady Queen of Angels in Los Angeles. As the priest was concluding his homily, I noticed Kathy’s eyes wandering to her right and coming suddenly alive in recognition.
“There’s Marilyn,” she whispered with a radiant smile, raising her arm to attract attention.
I followed her gaze to see a spry and erect, midsized woman with short graying hair, combed to the side. She wore a boldly bright blouse that made her look ten years younger. It looked like a feminine version of a festive Hawaiian shirt, and not something one expected a nun to wear on a formal occasion. But Marilyn never dressed the way I thought a nun was supposed to dress. Sister Marilyn dressed like Marilyn Rudy, a Berkley radical and Jubiliarian of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet (CSJ), with 53 years of dedicated service. Her eyes lit up with a smile when she recognized Kathy, and she and her companion made their way to join us in the pew.
“Hi Kathy, hi Tony,” she whispered huskily in greeting. “I didn’t think we’d make it”. She quietly introduced us to her friend, Sr. Maureen, and gave us each a hug and a peck on the cheek.
“The priest said some wonderful things about you and your work in his homily,” I said proudly under my breath.“Oh really”, Marilyn said in surprise. “That’s nice”. That simple, unaffected reply was Sister Marilyn’s typical response to praise and adulation.

 

Kathy and I were there that evening to honor the work and spirit of Sister Marilyn Therese Rudy, CSJ, an old friend, teacher, mentor, and model to each of us for over 40 years. Actually, Kathy knew her longest (41 years) – meeting her as a student at Mount St. Mary’s College (MSMC), when Marilyn taught undergraduate History. I didn’t meet Marilyn until she was the Social Studies Department Chair at St. Bernard High School and I was hired to teach U.S. History in January of 1972. We each developed separate and distinct ties with Marilyn during the early years of our relationship, and were not introduced to each other until we accepted invitations to a Seder Dinner at the CSJ’s Westchester apartment/convent in 1973 (see You Look Wonderful Tonight). Since that evening 36 years ago, Kathy and I maintained a combined relationship with Marilyn that stayed constant through courtship, marriage, children, and careers. However, we always considered her our PERSONAL friend first, and our MUTUAL friend second, and we would occasionally banter about who knew Marilyn best. Kathy always won because she knew her earliest and stayed actively in touch with Marilyn through MSMC Alumnae friends and her own membership as a CSJ Associate. It was through these connections that we learned that Marilyn was being honored as a 50-year “Jubilarian” in 2006, and one of the recipients of the CSJ Charism Tribute in 2009. These functions were “automatic acceptances,” and we made a point of attending. But they were usually large and formal affairs, with too many other friends, associates, and family members in attendance, so we rarely had a chance to really sit, relax, and talk about everything – like in the old days. In fact, the last times I remember talking with Marilyn for any great length was our visit during her residence at La Casa de Maria in Santa Barbara in 1999, and a chance encounter at the Religious Education Congress last February, 2009.

For the remainder of the mass, which preceded the reception, dinner, and tributes that followed in the banquet hall of the Cathedral complex, I found myself studying Marilyn. She looked remarkably vibrant and youthful standing next to me in her floral print blouse. The celebrant’s comments about Marilyn’s work and commitment to religious life, education, social justice, and social service reminded me of all that she had accomplished in the time I’d known her. When we drove up to visit during her residence at Casa de Maria, she had retired from active social work and was studying Organic Gardening and Earth Harmony. For reasons I couldn’t define, this new direction in her ministry greatly irritated me, and I brought it up at the first opportunity.
“I can’t believe a Berkley grad and social activist is learning how to garden!” I announced dramatically, once Kathy and I had related our current family and job information. “What exactly does a New Age Master Gardener do?” I added sarcastically.
Marilyn crooked her head sideways and gave me a curious smile. “You’re really having a hard time accepting this, aren’t you?” She did not say it accusingly or angrily, but as a simple point of observation. Her gentle smile and calm manner took me back to the lunchroom in the St. Bernard Faculty Lounge during my first years of teaching. There she would listen to my vocal frustrations at mastering the Inquiry Learning method of teaching social studies and establishing effective classroom discipline. I expected a department chair to have all the answers, but Marilyn never prescribed her own solutions to my problems. Rather she would listen, ask questions, reframe my difficulties, and only then offer suggestions and resources. She made me feel that I had solved the problems for myself.
“I seem to recall” she continued, “that we had this same kind of conversation when I first told you and Kathy about my plans to leave teaching and start St. Joseph’s Center”.
“Oh,” I said, caught off guard by this indirect response, and not recalling the conversation. “What did I say?”
“Something about a Thrift Shop not being a practical solution to poverty, and running a store was a waste of my talent”.
“I said that?” I asked in embarrassment.
She nodded and said, “That’s more or less what I remember”.
As a grey morning fog lifts to reveal the verdant grass and bright garden beneath, so the memory of that time reappeared in my mind. I’d forgotten how betrayed I felt that Marilyn was leaving a craft I was still trying to master. She was so good at teaching and motivating students, that I saw her decision as a waste of her intellectual abilities. I said so - and Marilyn heard me out. Then she gently explained what a religious vocation meant to her as a CSJ and how she could no longer teach religion and social justice in high school or college without practicing it. She felt the call to move from the theoretical to the practical, from ideas to action. I listened - and her passion and determination won me over. Kathy and I became two of the center’s earliest supporters and volunteers. I met Sister Louise Bernstein, Marilyn’s partner in the storefront venture when we helped paint the interior and the outside fence. After the founding of the center, I came to view Marilyn as a model of what educators and religious members should become – activists in addressing social wrongs and fighters against political and religious injustices. That she was a CSJ only made her more special. Sister Marilyn came to define what I thought a nun should be and do: Choose the religious life after experiencing a full, secular education at the finest university in California. Train and become a mentor high school and college teacher and administrator. Establish a brick and mortar center serving the social justice and advocacy needs of the poor, the hungry, the powerless, and the homeless.
“Well, okay,” I admitted, resuming our conversation in Casa de Maria. “Maybe it took me awhile to get used to the ideas of you as a social worker, but I did – and you were great! But I don’t get this gardening thing,” I exclaimed, indignantly. “It sounds like your abandoning everything you’ve accomplished. You’re too young to retire!”
“Don’t worry, Tony”, she said, laughingly. “I’m not retiring. I’ve truly become very interested in the ecology of the planet and finding harmony with agriculture and gardening. I intend to be very active and involved for a long time. Sisters don’t retire,” she added with a twinkle in her eyes “like public school principals do.”

As we left the Cathedral after mass, Kathy and I quickly lost sight of Marilyn when more and more people approached and spoke to her. Many guests were arriving now, so we made our way to the reception area for some wine and cheese before dinner. Kathy recognized many of the CSJ sisters and guests from her connection to Mt Saint Mary’s College and the CSJ Associates. I entertained myself by rubber necking for the few nuns I knew and reading the program for the evening. The purpose of the evening was to recognize 5 Sisters of St. Joseph for their dedication and commitment in serving the physical and spiritual needs and concerns of the poor and underserved. The event was called a Charism Tribute because it honored these sisters for uniquely practicing the Charism of their community. This is a word that I’d heard Kathy use on occasion, but never really understood until that night. In researching the word on my own, I found one explanation by Sister Sue Torgersen, CSJ, and Director of Vocations, which seemed to make sense:

“Each religious community is a special blessing in our church, with its particular mission, spirituality and flavor. Religious communities share so much in common with each other, and yet, each one has its own unique spirit, or Charism. All communities are called to manifest the Gospel to our church and world, but the Holy Spirit has led each one to grow in its own unique way in reflecting Jesus’ Good News. Hand in hand with your outer journey exploring various religious communities, will be your inner journey of identifying your own unique spirit. When you find the community you feel especially drawn to, you will have found something in yourself. You see the spirit of those community members is the same spirit that has been present within you all through your life. At a certain point, you will know that your discernment journey has reached a conclusion when you, through your sense of joy and peace, recognize a ‘kinship in grace’ with one particular community”.

I found a simpler definition in an online dictionary: “Charism (from the Greek, charis – grace). The divine influence on a person’s heart and its reflection in their life; a power, generally of a spiritual nature, or a freely given gift of the grace of God.
 

I periodically caught glimpses of Marilyn as she glided from table to table, and from friend to friend, smiling and thanking them for coming this evening. Kathy and I were resigned to brief encounters with her, but firmly resolved in taking two or three group photographs. Thankfully we had a longer opportunity to chat in February when we met Marilyn at the Religious Education Congress in Anaheim. Kathy had discovered her working in one of the booths and she called me on her cell phone to join them. I was particularly curious to find out if Marilyn had read the Valentine’s Day blog I had written about Kathy the week before Congress. My story recounted my first meeting with Kathy at the Seder Dinner in 1973. Marilyn and Sister Carol had organized the dinner so we could finally meet (see You Look Wonderful Tonight). So, as soon as there was an opening in our conversation, I asked Marilyn, “Did you have a chance to read my blog?”
“Yes I did,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I loved it”.
Instead of accepting her enjoyment of my story, I was disappointed by the brevity of her answer. “I tried being as factual as possible,” I continued, pressing for further elaboration. “But I’ve discovered that people’s memories sometimes differ. Do you think I got most of it right?”
“Well,” she began slowly, “I don’t quite remember it the same way.”
I was shocked by her response. “How do you remember the evening?” I asked, unsteadily.
“Well,” Marilyn reluctantly continued. “In the story you have Kathy doing all the talking when you first met. I recall you dominated most of the conversation that evening. No one else could get a word in.”
“Really!” I exclaimed. “I did most of the talking? Wow, that’s quite a difference”. Kathy was standing next to me, but she wasn’t taking sides in this conversation. Instead, she smoothly changed the subject and moved on to other topics. As I stood there, pretending to listen, I couldn’t help thinking that Marilyn had done it again. I had asked a question that vainfully begged for an answer I wanted to hear, and she had turned the tables on me with the truth. It seemed as if Marilyn’s gentle words had pulled on some forgotten, rusty lever, and a truer version of my story gradually appeared. She was right. I had projected my behavior onto Kathy in the story. I was the nervous guest who sought to impress the beautiful girl that evening, and I, unconsciously, did so by dominating the stage and conversation. This was the same type of revelation I experienced with Marilyn many, many years before, in my second year of teaching. During a small TGIF party at her apartment/convent one Friday evening after school, I recounted the story of my interview and hiring by Father Dunphy, the principal, and Marilyn. I was feeling smug and confident as a teacher in those days, and my story was based on the assumption that they wisely perceived my potential and took a chance on hiring an inexperienced teacher.
At the conclusion of my story, Marilyn gently clarified, “But that’s not what happened. It was Larry who decided to hire you. You interviewed very well, and the previous teacher gave you a strong vote of confidence, but I wanted to hire a more experienced teacher we’d already interviewed. As it turned out, Larry was right, and everything worked out better.”
I was momentarily stunned. I looked to Larry for a rebuttal, but he only nodded and said, “Marilyn’s right. That’s what happened”.
I wanted to feel hurt and angry, but I couldn’t find a valid reason. Marilyn was my department chairperson, my mentor, booster, and friend.  I couldn’t be angry with her for telling me the truth in such a kind and thoughtful manner.

We did get a few more moments with Marilyn on the evening of the Charism Tribute. We took pictures and were introduced to her relatives and friends. Marilyn described us as the love story she and Carol had initiated 36 years ago, and how we called her the spiritual godmother of our family and children. In reviewing her brief biography and career synopsis in the program, I felt incredibly proud of her life and achievements and thankful that I knew her as a friend. The evening was a wonderful tribute to a great lady whom I loved and admired. I felt an overwhelming desire to remember this evening in a blog; despite my apprehension that Marilyn might tell me something I didn’t want to hear if I asked the wrong question. We kissed her goodbye and promised to see her soon.

Two weeks later, we learned that Marilyn was diagnosed with lung cancer and was beginning treatments. We vowed to visit her at the MSMC House of Studies, but never found the time as family, school, and holiday commitments crowded our calendar in November and December. Our consciences were momentarily assuaged by the upbeat and optimistic reports we received from the CSJ Associates and friends. We felt sure that we had plenty of time to see Marilyn after Christmas and our trip to New York. We were wrong. While in New York, Kathy and I learned that our dear friend Marilyn Therese Rudy died on Saturday, December 26, 2009 (see Obituary - The Tidings). Her condition was more serious than we suspected and it had slowly worsened. After Christmas she required more and more sleep, and her breathing became difficult. Somehow, she still managed to give direction to things she wanted sorted and “assigned” to family and friends. On Saturday morning Marilyn realized that she was dying and she requested and received comfort care. Several sisters were with her throughout the day, praying Marilyn into heaven. Her suffering ceased at about 7:05 P.M. I am so saddened by this news that it is hard to hold back my tears even as I write these words now.

I cannot write of my regrets or the promises I did not keep. My thoughts go back to the last time I saw Marilyn alive and happy, in her delightful floral print blouse. I was pleased that so many people recognized and appreciated her achievements and accomplishments that evening, but I can’t believe that was why they came. The dinner and tributes may have been the prompt or the excuse, but not the reason. Marilyn lived the Charism of her community because she had already received it as a gift from God. She never stopped being a seeker of truth and justice, and her life and actions were models for others to imitate. Marilyn helped me to be a better teacher, husband, and father by her short laugh, her crooked smile, her gentle questions, and her indomitable spirit. Marilyn had a personal grace that matched the Charism of the community of sisters she joined and was a part of. I think I will never see her like again, and I feel blessed that she chose me as a friend.

Father John occasionally used the song “Drift Away” in his liturgies at St. Bernard in 1972 and 1973, the years Marilyn and I worked there together. It is the only song that provides solace when I’m feeling blue over her death. So Mare, thanks for the joy that you’ve given me. I want you to know that I believe in your song. You helped me along, and made me strong. So perhaps one day I’ll be able to let you drift away.