2000
Jillian’s Journal
January 1, 2000
For the first time in years, I stayed up past midnight to celebrate the New Year. Leni Jo insisted I should, and she was right. Like everyone else, I got caught up in all the hoopla surrounding the new millennium.
Fortunately, the dreaded Y2K bug didn’t turn into the disaster the experts had predicted. If the world’s computers had crashed, some of them would not have been missed—especially the ones having to do with government. I’m beginning to sound cynical, but it’s hard not to, after the last year, during which the entire country was preoccupied with Clinton’s affair. The impeachment process took months and millions of dollars, which could have been better spent. I blame Clinton for that waste. In fact, given his intellectual gifts, I consider much of his time in office a wasted opportunity. Good Republican that my father was, I imagine he’s frothing at the mouth because of the corruption that’s come out of the Clinton presidency. As for me, I’ve lost faith in both parties.
New Year’s Eve was an incredible experience in New York! Gary, Leni Jo and I had a late dinner, then sheer madness overtook us and we joined the throng in Times Square. I couldn’t believe I agreed to this, but I was just as excited as everyone else. Leni Jo said we’d regret it our entire lives if we didn’t go. Years from now, she wants me to be able to tell my grandchildren I was there to celebrate the big moment, when New York ushered out one millennium and welcomed in the next. How grateful I am that I could spend this New Year’s with my daughter and Gary.
I will admit that this is a wonderful time to be alive. When I think back over all I’ve seen in my 51 years, I stand amazed. I remember how thrilled my father was about the transistor radio. My great-aunt Jillian crossed the prairie in a covered wagon when she was just an infant, and before she died in the mid-60s, she flew in a jet plane. All of this in one lifetime!
When Leni Jo and I returned to the apartment, Gary wished us both a good night, and then my daughter and I sat up for another hour, talking. Time for just the two of us is a rarity these days and much to be valued.
My daughter is content and has been able to put the unhappy events of last year behind her. She loves her job as an assistant curator at Sotheby’s. Leni Jo has always had a deep appreciation of antiques, especially china and porcelain. This position is the perfect blend of history and beauty, of art and business. She has a trip to London scheduled this spring and wants me to tag along. She’ll be meeting an associate in the London office with whom she obviously has a good working relationship. Her job has been a source of strength and pleasure during the turmoil in her personal life this past year.
Paul broke her heart. It was inevitable. I saw how ill-suited they were early on in the relationship, but Leni Jo had to discover this for herself. Difficult as it is to sit back and watch one’s child suffer, there are certain life lessons that can only be taught by experience. I grieved with her, although I suspected from the beginning that Paul wasn’t the right man for her. Soon, and I believe this with all my heart, she’ll rush home to tell me she’s met someone utterly wonderful who shares her interests and appreciates the woman she is.
Leni Jo’s relationship with Paul led me to do some soul-searching about my first love. If Nick hadn’t been killed, what would have become of our relationship? I couldn’t help wondering if we would’ve eventually parted, like Leni Jo and Paul. Somehow, I couldn’t make myself believe it. Even now, all these years later, Nick remains with me, a part of me. I love him so intensely that I’ve been unable to visit the Vietnam War Memorial. I just can’t do it. (But I’ve promised myself that one day, I will.)
I’ll be fifty-two on the 15th. My health is good, with no sign that the cancer is recurring. I get a shock every now and then when I happen to catch my reflection in a mirror. After the chemo, my hair grew in completely gray. Still, I’ve purposely left it that color, as a reminder of everything I’ve experienced. (Actually I think it gives me a dignified appearance!) I’m well aware that I look very much the middle-aged woman I am. Gary likes it and compliments me often.
Art takes up a good portion of my free time. Despite Leni Jo’s protestations to the contrary, I don’t think I’m particularly talented, but I derive such pleasure from it that the question of my ability is irrelevant.
My life has fallen into a set pattern. I’m reluctant to call it a routine. I rise early, do my reading and journal-writing. Then Lesley and I exchange emails. I still think of this communication via computer as an updated version of passing notes in class! I’ve come to find this internet thing completely fascinating and often spend one or two hours browsing websites.
Around ten o’clock, Gary and I take a walk through Central Park. We have our own route, and our own pace. This time is more an excuse to be together, but the exercise is beneficial nonetheless.
I do volunteer work most afternoons. I’ve been a docent at several museums and right now, I’m mentoring a teenage girl at risk. In the process I’ve learned about facets of this city I never knew.
Life in New York certainly isn’t dull, but I shall enjoy my trip to London with Leni Jo.
Jillian Gordon
From: [email protected]
Sent: January 1, 2000
Subject: Happy New Year!!!!!!
Dearest Jillian,
Do you remember in high school when we talked about the year 2000? We tried to predict what we’d be like at the turn of the millennium. You thought we’d be wearing our hair in buns, walking with canes and wearing black nun shoes. (Remember those ugly heels that laced up?) At fifteen, that was our view of anyone over age thirty. Are you laughing yet? That isn’t even close to describing either one of us. Without a doubt, this is the best time of my life.
I’m blissfully happy and madly in love with my husband. When I look back through the years with Buck and then as a single mother, I shake my head in wonderment. Everything I endured, every challenge and difficulty that brought me to this point was worth it. I didn’t realize how miserable I was at the time because it took so much effort just to make it through the day. Everything has changed, and for the better.
Our New Year’s party with all the kids, grandkids and everyone was hilarious fun. Between my four and Steven’s two daughters we had a full house. At midnight David and the boys lit fireworks. After the show, we closed the evening with a huge catered buffet.
Frankly, I’m exhausted. I’ll gladly wait another 1000 years for a repeat of this celebration!
I can’t believe you were in the middle of all that madness in Times Square.
Today is low-key. Steven and I are both planning naps this afternoon.
I’ll check in with you later.
Lesley
JILLIAN LAWTON GORDON
331 WEST END AVENUE
APARTMENT 1020
NEW YORK, NY 10023
March 15, 2000
My dear Nickie Lynn,
I wanted to get this in the mail before I left for England. I’m joining my daughter there for three weeks of relaxation, fun and shopping.
Inside the box is a small medal. It’s something very special that I’ve waited all these years to give you. This medallion has a long Murphy family history. It first belonged to your grandmother and she gave it to your uncle Nick before she died. Years later, Nick gave it to me and I wore it around my neck as a reminder of his love. I’d recently left for the East Coast and college, and missed him terribly. He told me that whenever I got lonely I should hold on to it and remember how much he loved me. I didn’t remove it until the Army assigned his tour of duty in Vietnam. That was when I mailed the medal back to him, and asked him to wear it. I prayed his mother’s love and mine would protect him.
When I learned he’d been killed, my grief was so great that I completely forgot about his mother’s medallion. When I did remember it, I assumed it’d been buried with him. Then in 1989, a friend of Nick’s, a fellow soldier, contacted me. He had the medal. Apparently Nick had asked Brad to return it to me if anything happened to him. For one reason and another, it took Brad twenty-one years to keep his promise. I have worn this medal close to my heart from that day forward.
At twenty you’re old enough to appreciate its history and its sentimental value. I’m convinced that the grandmother you never knew would want you to have it. I want it to be yours, too. Wear it with pride and my love.
Your parents gave me one of the greatest honors of my life when they named you after Nick and me. I’ve had the pleasure of watching you grow into an accomplished and beautiful young woman.
You have your whole life ahead of you. I know how proud your family is that you’ve chosen to become a teacher. Wherever life takes you and whatever you do, remember that you are deeply loved by your parents, by your uncle Nick and by me.
Jillian Gordon
Lesley’s Journal
April 15, 2000
I can’t believe how much I miss Jillian. Three weeks has never seemed so long. It would help if we’d been able to email the way we planned. I can’t understand why anyone would be so heartless as to infect hundreds of thousands of computers with a virus, especially one that instantly aroused curiosity. Like lots of other people, Steven and I fell prey to the I LOVE YOU virus. Our whole computer system was destroyed, and we still aren’t up and running.
Jillian will be back in New York tomorrow morning. Judging by the postcard she sent, she’s had a wonderful time. Or so she’d have me believe. I’ve known Jillian nearly her entire life and something isn’t right. I wish I could put my finger on what it is. (My fear, of course, is a return of the cancer, but I refuse to dwell on that possibility.)
Steven says I should fly out and see for myself, and I think I will. My friend might be able to fool others, even Leni Jo, but she can’t pretend with me.
Leni Jo’s Journal
May 3, 2000
After three weeks away, it’s marvelous to sleep in my own bed. Tired as I am from the flight out of Heathrow, my head is still buzzing. My heart, too. William Chadsworth is the reason. We’ve worked together for fourteen months via fax and computer. The relationship was strictly business. For all I knew, he could have been a sixty-year-old curator. Thankfully he’s not!
I don’t know what he felt when we first met, but the strangest, most wonderful sensation came over me. This was meant to be a working vacation for Mom and me. I did plan to do some sightseeing and shopping with her, but Will and I ended up spending every spare moment together.
It’s unsettling to think I could’ve fallen in love on such short acquaintance, but he’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a man. I especially liked the way he treated my mother. I think she’s half in love with him herself! He was so thoughtful and kind to both of us.
Mom didn’t fool me. Most nights, she pleaded tiredness, so Will and I could spend time alone. Three weeks has never passed more quickly. He’s ten years older, but that doesn’t bother me. Dad was fifteen years older than Mom and they had a wonderful marriage.
I miss Will already, but if the five emails awaiting me once we reached home are any indication, he feels the same way. We both feel it’s necessary to give this attraction a bit of time. Since he’s in London and I’m in New York, that won’t be a problem.
Our plan is to communicate via the internet and by phone for the next six months, with the occasional visit when we can manage it, and then we’ll see how we feel. That’s the sane, sensible approach. I’m certainly in no rush to become involved again, especially after my breakup with Paul.
Will could meet someone else. For that matter, I could, too. Mother said there are advantages and disadvantages to longdistance relationships. Just now, I’m painfully aware of the disadvantages.
He’s already suggested he visit New York in July; that would be perfect. This time the meeting won’t be work-related. I’m counting the days already.
Mother liked Will immediately and she’s an excellent judge of character. She knew after meeting Paul just once that he wasn’t the man for me and she was so right.
I’m not the only one having company this year. Aunt Lesley’s booked a flight for the first part of October. Apparently the trip’s a birthday gift from Steven. It will be so good to see her again.
Jillian Gordon
From: [email protected]
Sent: July 25, 2000
Subject: My visit
Jillian,
I’m planning my itinerary. What do you think of visiting Washington, D.C.? I’ve always wanted to see the Smithsonian and the Washington Monument. Are you ready to visit the Vietnam Memorial?
Lesley
Lesley Milton
From: [email protected]
Sent: July 26, 2000
Subject: Your visit
Dearest Lesley,
I’ll be happy to visit Washington, D.C., if you want, but I’ll skip the Vietnam Memorial this go-round.
We had quite a scare. Remember I told you that Leni Jo met a wonderful young man (a colleague in England)? He came over here to visit her. Originally he’d planned to catch the Concorde out of Paris. The very one that crashed and killed everyone onboard. Thank God he decided to book another flight!
This man is the one. I had that feeling the moment I first saw my daughter and William together. My guess is they’ll be married within a year. I haven’t seen Leni Jo this happy in a very long time.
She’s so calm about it, so like Monty. William is well aware of what a joy she is. I hate the thought of her moving to London, but I suspect that’s the way it’ll have to be if they do get married.
Everything about this relationship feels right.
Jillian
Riverside Clinic
258 West 81st St.
New York, NY 10024
Dr. Louise Novack, Oncologist
August 11, 2000
Dear Jillian Gordon,
The blood work from your most recent checkup is in. Please make an appointment with Dr. Novack at your earliest convenience. We look forward to seeing you soon.
Sincerely,
Pat Terrney, R.N.
Lesley Milton
From: [email protected]
Sent: August 25, 2000
Subject: Your visit!!!!!
Lesley,
I’ve had a change of heart about visiting the Vietnam War Memorial. You’re absolutely right (savor the moment!). It’s time I faced the Wall.
I can’t wait for you to get here. We’re going to have a fabulous time.
See you the first week of October.
Love,
Jillian
September 19, 2000
Good Morning, Mom!
The coffee’s on and I’m leaving for work early this morning. Did you hear Will and me on the phone last night? I couldn’t believe he’d pay the big bucks to call when it’s so easy to email. But he had something to ask me and he didn’t want to do it over the computer. I’ll bet you can guess.
Mom, Will asked me to marry him and I told him yes. Then I got teary-eyed because I wished so badly that I could be with him. His visit in July seems like a lifetime ago. We want to be together and the sooner the better.
Neither Will nor I wants a long engagement, and we both prefer a small wedding. I hope that doesn’t disappoint you. Now, here’s the second part. We’d like to be married in London. Will’s family is much larger than mine and it only makes sense that you and I travel to London instead of asking his parents, twin sister and brother to trek all the way to New York. We can have a reception here afterward, if you want. I didn’t want to wake you to discuss it, so I made an executive decision and agreed. I didn’t think you’d mind.
I was so happy and excited after we talked that I couldn’t sleep. When Paul and I broke up I thought I’d never want anything more to do with men. You said I would and you were, of course, right. Oh, Mom, I’m so in love. Will is a wonderful, wonderful man and I’m crazy about him.
Call me once you’re up. Shall we celebrate tonight and have dinner out? I think we should.
Love,
Leni Jo
Jillian’s Journal
October 15, 2000
I saw Lesley off early this morning and only now have time to reflect on her visit. With my dearest friend here and Leni Jo bustling about planning her wedding, I’ve barely had a moment to myself. Everything seemed to be happening at once. Leni Jo glows with happiness, and just being around her, I get caught up in her excitement and joy. Lesley is thrilled for her, too.
The highlight of her visit was our trip to Washington, D.C. I’d dreaded seeing the Vietnam War Memorial; I’ve avoided it for years. I was sure the emotion would be too much, that it would overwhelm me and break through all my hard-won contentment, my resignation. And the minute I found Nick’s name engraved in the Wall, that’s exactly what happened.
I’m thankful Lesley was with me. We hugged and wept together. When I found the strength, I placed my fingertips against Nick’s name. At the same time, I saw my own reflection in the black marble. Actually and metaphorically, emotionally and spiritually, he was part of me. In all the years he’s been dead, I’ve never felt his presence this profoundly—even more strongly than the day I had that near-death experience. I felt a sense of peace. I held my head high, proud to have loved Nicholas Patrick Murphy, proud of the sacrifice he made. The politics of the Vietnam War are forgotten, pondered only by historians, but the men and women who died there will continue to live in our hearts.
Visiting the Wall changed me. I wish now that I’d gone years ago. I remember Brad Lincoln’s letter after his visit to the Vietnam Memorial; unfortunately I couldn’t find it. As I recall, he’d had a very similar reaction. The Wall certainly focuses one’s thoughts—on death and on life. The brave and honorable men who are commemorated here will remain forever young, forever loved and forever remembered.
Lesley knows. I’ve never been able to keep a secret from her. We weren’t together a day and she asked me about the breast cancer. It’s back, more virulent than ever. With her, I could reveal my fears. For Leni Jo and Gary, I’ve put on a brave front, but this is my second confrontation with the ravening beast and I’m feeling uncertain. Dr. Novack wants to do a second surgery, followed once again by chemotherapy and radiation. Just when I’d grown accustomed to my full head of gray hair, it appears I’m going to lose it.
I want to live, but if I should lose this battle, then so be it. At least I’ll die knowing my daughter is happy and settled. I know my son-in-law will look after Leni Jo.
I’ve told no one else, certainly not my daughter or Gary. I insisted Lesley keep my secret. With the wedding less than a month away, the last thing Leni Jo needs to hear is this. We’ll both be forced to face it soon enough. I’m certainly in no rush. I’m doing everything that’s asked of me, taking the medication, dealing with the doctors and the almost constant appointments. I have faith that everything that can be done is being done.
My one complaint is how tired I’ve been lately. I wished I hadn’t told Lesley so soon after her arrival. From that point on, she was worse than a mother, constantly monitoring me, asking how I felt and whether I needed anything. I’m afraid my patience has been in short supply these past few days.
I think Gary has guessed. He’s suggested shorter walks and only three times a week. He insisted his knees were bothering him, but I don’t believe it.
I didn’t mean to be morbid, but I’ve chosen a headstone. Lesley was appalled. I’ve already paid for the plot next to Monty. It made sense to do so when we buried him. I knew then that I would never remarry. I’ve been blessed to love two wonderful men in my life and I wasn’t about to press my luck.
William Chadsworth
December 1, 2000
Dear Mom,
I realize it’s somewhat premature to call you Mom, since Leni Jo and I won’t be married until next weekend, but I didn’t think you’d object.
The purpose of this letter is to thank you for raising Leni Jo to become the woman she is. The woman I love. Although we’d worked together for a number of months, she was little more than a name at the bottom of a fax. I knew nothing about her personally, although I’d come to admire her integrity and spirit.
Before I met Leni Jo, I’d despaired of finding a wife. She was like a summer breeze that swept into my life, bringing laughter and wonder and joy. I fell instantly in love with her. To my everlasting gratitude, she feels the same way about me.
My family loves her and, like me, is thankful that she’s willing to become one of us.
All of this is a circuitous way of thanking you for Leni Jo. I love her more than I dared believe I could love anyone. When we say our vows, I want you to be assured that I will love and care for her the rest of my life. My commitment to her is complete.
Sincerely,
William Chadsworth
JUDGE JILLIAN L. GORDON, RETIRED
IS PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE THE MARRIAGE OF HER
DAUGHTER
LENI JO GORDON
TO
WILLIAM HENRY THOMAS CHADSWORTH III
ON
DECEMBER 9, 2000
A RECEPTION TO HONOR THE COUPLE IS BEING HELD AT
THE WATER CLUB
500 EAST 30TH STREET
DECEMBER 30, 2000
AT 3 O’CLOCK
RSVP