Lent Day 17: Carol Ann

Last week I wrote about Charles "Sparky" Schulz, creator of Peanuts, and his mother Dena.  Much of what people love about his Peanuts characters came out his own experience, and much of that was driven by his grieving over his mother's death and her not surviving to see any of his success.  It's a common story in the arts; just look at at most of the acceptance speeches from last night's Oscar Awards.

But there's another dimension of Dena's story that strikes home for me:  that she was so private about her disease and dying.  Even Sparky didn't know that it was cancer until near the very end, even though he knew something was definitely wrong.  I recently had a similar experience with my Aunt Carol Ann, the youngest of the three sisters in my mom's family.  Having never married, she lived by herself and was able to withhold any news of her own malady -- breast cancer -- until near the very end, when she needed hospice care.

She had sought no Western medical treatment, relying solely on Eastern/Chinese medicines and therapy.  I can't judge her decision... I'm not sure what I would do in her shoes, but I certainly respect it.   And based on other aspects of her life, it wasn't a very surprising decision:  she always marched to the beat of her own drum.  Even though that phrase is not always used in a flattering light, it is here.  She was the "cool aunt."

That's not to say that my other aunts are not cool, but Carol Ann got to do things her way with her own artistic flair, with the soul of an artist.  I didn't understand until I was much older (and started watching Project Runway) the significance of her going to the Parsons School of Design.  I knew that she was in the fashion industry but not that she was in the forefront of it.  She worked at Catalina Swimwear, and as family legend has it, she designed the "French Cut" bathing suit.  So the 10% of the population that can wear it love it, the other 40% groan, and of the remaining 50% ogle at it.  Whether or not she actually designed it is almost irrelevant; the fact is she had so much talent that one cannot doubt that it could be true.

But I didn't realize that until much later.  To me, she was the one with the carefree spirit, who lauded independent women (Mary Tyler Moore's Mary Richards character)  and had a tremendous sense of humor.  She not only introduced me to Monty Python, I got to stay up past my bedtime on weekends to watch the Flying Circus with her.  She took my brother and me to see Star Wars in a Manhattan theater, something I'll never forget because that's first time I ever wanted to not leave the theater so I could immediately rescreen a movie.  She is the person who, after seeing how much I loved her copy of "Peanuts Classics," gave it to me and it remains one of my prized possessions to this day.

Which brings me back to Dena and the privacy of dying.  During the week of Carol's Ann memorial, the relatives took on the broad task of disposing of Carol Ann's property.  For a studio apartment in downtown San Francisco, she had loads of stuff, mostly great swag from the fashion companies she worked for and with, and tons of books.  Her library reflected a great appreciation for her Eastern heritage and holistic philosophy and practices, which was not surprising.  As we dug deeper into her belongings we unraveled some of the mystery that was not only her dying but her life.  (She had been diagnosed quite a while earlier and survived a significantly long time with holistic therapies, hence her library.)  But her life was like a puzzle and no one person held all the pieces.  I bet we'll never know all the pieces.

But here are some nuggets of what we learned.  She had translated a book for her Tibetan Qi Gong Master.  We knew she excelled at languages and taught Chinese language at private schools, and did translations, but translating for a book was a pleasant surprise in our archeological dig.

We found a photo of her with the Clinton family, at the White House.  The Clintons have been photographed thousands of times, but this was a special event: the unveiling of the presidential portraits, and Carol Ann was the fashion consultant who selected Hillary's attire for the portrait.  Some of the relatives knew about this but I was certainly in the dark.

And finally there were some photos of her with the Dalai Lama.  Again, not an uncommon occurrence.  But then I learned that she flew to Australia to consult on the stage design for his appearances there... that blew me away.

So Carol Ann, despite her brushes with greatness (kind of like Woody Allen's Zelig and Tom Hanks' Forrest Gump), was such a private person.  And I still grieve for not having known her better, or having been able to help comfort her more during her final days.  What I can do is remember the times she spent with me, especially one special day in Hong Kong when I visited there when I was about Noah's age (11).  She took me for a day out on the town, no real schedule to keep.  We ended up going to Victoria Peak and as the day progressed I got to choose how to get there.  I don't mean from Point A to Point B; Carol Ann literally let me choose the mode of transportation, as in taxi, bus, train, tram, ferry, boat, etc.  I can't name them all but there were exactly 11 conveyances in all... I was 11 at the time. 

It was probably the coolest day of my childhood.  I got to choose where to go, how to get there, no schedule, no budget.  We had no real destination in mind, but we enjoyed the journey together.  So whenever I think of her and mourn her passing, I always remember that day and hope that someday we'll journey together again.



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