Personal 11 Nov 2007 05:02 pm
Letters from friends
One of the things one does when one moves, at least what I’ve almost always done, is sort through old stuff. Usually, I do it before I move, to cull things I don’t want to go to the new place. I’d had this box of old letters in my friend’s attic, from when I stored some stuff there during my time in seminary. I moved it, and I’m just now sorting through it.
Reading old letters from friends is always a heart-tugging process. It’s been a while since I did it. Most of the letters are from people I no longer am in touch with. Almost everyone I’m not in touch with is because we’d lost touch before the days of email and, later, social networks, which is how I’m increasingly keeping connected with friends (I even have a few college friends on Facebook and LinkedIn.) Lately, I’ve been drawn to Google people, although that more often than not results in dead ends (or in one case, an obituary.)
There are the letters from college friends, to addresses in Cleveland, where I went to grad school. Then there are letters from Cleveland friends, to addresses in Colorado and Massachusetts. A series of letters from an ex-lover. A college roomate once sent me a series of postcards from New York City. Letters from an old friend who I am still in email contact with, and many long letters and cards from a close friend who is estranged. And there are a few letters from people I hardly remember.
One of the most poignant set of letters is from a good friend in Cleveland whose presence no longer graces this planet. It’s also one of those small world stories. I lived in Ruth’s house in Oakland for a short while, and the woman whose room I took had lived in Cleveland at a time that overlapped with mine. We knew some of the same people, and she did seem vaguely familiar, but we hadn’t really known each other. I asked about this friend, Shana Blessing, and she said “she took herself out of this world” - that is, she committed suicide.
In reading the letters from Shana, I am reminded of how tortured she was, and, at the same time, how deeply she felt the world, and how she struggled to find her place. In one of the letters, surprisingly, is this line: “I really feel it is time to return to school. I began by looking for theological schools in the Bay Area, but there does not seem to be a program which approaches spirituality non-traditionally (or should I say traditionally but non-patriarchally).” I wish I could tell her about what I’d experienced, and how life-changing seminary in the Bay Area was for me. Perhaps she already knows.
on 12 Dec 2007 at 5:06 pm 1.Kendra said …
Hello,
My name used to be Kendra Zuckerman, and Shana was my sister (her last name was Zuckerman before she changed it to Blessing). I have never googled her name before today. Ever. How odd to see that you posted your piece just a month ago.
Shana was indeed a wonderful but troubled person. My daughter was 4 when she died and still talks about her often. I miss Shana, too, yet our relationship was often troubled, as well. I don’t think I realized how tortured she was until I read the journals she left. I do remember Ruth, too. If you speak with her, be sure to wish her my best.
Kendra
on 12 Dec 2007 at 5:57 pm 2.admin said …
Kendra,
Thanks for your comment. I didn’t know much about Shana’s family - I’m glad to find this connection.
I think you probably have in mind a different Ruth - my partner Ruth didn’t know Shana at all - it was her housemate who did.
I wish you and your daughter the best.
on 23 Jan 2008 at 4:34 pm 3.Marilyn said …
Hello to Shana’s friend:
I too, like her sister Kendra, wanted to Google Shana’s name. Personally, for me, I wanted to learn more about my teenage friend, and why she is no longer here. Several years ago, before a high school reunion, I had heard about what happened and couldn’t believe it.
I thought a cruel joke was being played and I got angry but several people confirmed it was true. I have been saddened for many years by this. Years later, when I saw her family, I started to cry. Tears are flowing now actually. I always viewed my friend as a shining star, the one to break out from all of us and become a true success story in every sense of the word. I never knew that private side of her. When I was in college, my boyfriend at the time (now my husband) asked me why I never mentioned that about her. I did not understand what he was saying. I wrote her a letter after that, and she replied back with her marvelous wit, humor and of course beautiful handwriting. We never once discussed it. Thst was the last time I ever connected with her. I miss her.
on 08 May 2008 at 10:13 am 4.Tony Cuda said …
My name is Tony Cuda. I used to work with Shana at the county ombudsmans office. Shana and I became good friends and occasionally hung out for about 2-3 years. I spoke to her just days before she died. I always found her to be extremely likeable and interesting. She did not have a superficial bone in her body.
Kendra, I would really like to speak with you. The reason I looked up Shana on the Internet today is because there is a news story about someone that Shana often talked about. I would rather not post my info online, but I’m still in the Cleveland area.
I miss Shana as well.