Leaving

How did I find this book--A Brief History of the Dead ? I remember now. I needed another book for the Antarctica category in the Global Reading Challenge. Having just read a mystery I wanted a different genre. Google, that repository of myriad information, responded when I asked for a list of books that had Antarctica as a setting. A Brief History of the Dead , which I've just started, is set in two different locations, one of which is Antarctica and the other is the city of the dead. This is a place individuals go to after they have died. They remain there as long as they remain in someone's heart--as a living memory. Their sojourn in the city may be short or decades. God is not present in the city; however, there are places of worship similar to those on earth.

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Since I put the book down earlier today my thoughts wander back to the mystery of leave-taking whether it's permanent or someone simply moving on. What happened to Helen who was the first teacher I met on my first job? Did she stay in the Bronx? She probably doesn't know that I once returned to that school and walked around the block recalling the day a riot broke out in the school yard. Helen, a parochial school graduate, simply closed her door and continued teaching geometry. She married the seventh grade social studies teacher who kept failing his PHD orals because he couldn't abide the nausea, wet hands, and sweating which accompanied him to the exam.

Where is Miriam? I met her my second stint teaching. She was afraid of spiders, called in the middle of the night to discuss cows, and often came to school high on pot. She was different, but her interests were contagious .One day she left for Europe. Periodically a postcard arrived with cryptic messages: "I'm disguised and traveling through Rumania."

It's like a revolving door. Yes, I know that there are people who hang around for decades. It's the others, the ones who depart leaving a trace and no forwarding address. One year I tried to get in touch with some people who left their trace. When I first moved to New England I answered a local ad for someone who wanted to play tennis late afternoons and also wasn't a bloodthirsty player. That's how I met Sandra. We discovered that we also loved writing. Her stories appeared in prestigious magazines. Over time I watched as alcohol ruined her life. She lost her job; her children left to live with her husband and she cut herself off from friends.I moved again and we lost touch. Two years ago I thought I'd use the Internet to find her—I did. I contacted her and her email back was terse:" I clean cheap motel rooms. Don't contact me again."

Joyce played Ashes in the fifth grade play. She's stuck in that year because her family moved past the Continental Divide.

All the people who take residence in my memory form a pattern and if you take one away I'll be a different person.

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Then there are those whose departure alters the universe , alters your position in the universe. That phrase was written to me when my mother died, but I believe it applies to all the people in our life.