Like a Bridge Over Water...
BY DR. NURIT ISRAELI
Photos courtesy
I of Dr. Nurit Israeli just finished reading the book,
“What Is It All but Luminous:
Notes from an Underground
Man,” a lyrical memoir by Art Garfunkel,
half of the singing duo, Simon
and Garfunkel. I was touched
by the candid way Garfunkel writes
about his life and remembered the
excitement of hearing him sing
throughout the years.
One concert is particularly memorable.
It took place a few years
ago in a small library in Stamford,
Connecticut. The performance,
“An Intimate Evening with Art
Garfunkel,” included songs,
prose, anecdotes and an audience
question-and-answer session. We
attended the concert with our son
and granddaughter. She, then a
freshman in college, drove us to
the concert. She was a relatively
new driver, practicing highway
driving under the tutelage of her
father. We, her grandparents, were
sitting in the back seat behind them.
It was a beautiful fall evening. The
sun was slowly setting ahead of us
as the car carried us onward. My
son put on my favorite Simon and
Garfunkel music. I was lulled by
the music, the sunset, the flicker
of blinking lights. Memories of
earlier car rides rose up from the
deep, unexpectedly, one following
another. When I returned home
under the influence of music and
feeling nostalgic, I sat at my desk
and kept my pen moving…
2019
February CAR RIDES
“Seedlings turn overnight to
sunflowers
¢Blossoming even as we gaze.”
COURIER —Sheldon Harnick
On the way to an Art Garfunkel
concert. My granddaughter is
driving. In the passenger seat—her
TOWERS father, my son. I am sitting right
behind, my eyes focused on his
salt-and-pepper hair next to her
reddish-gold hair, on his hands
SHORE holding the map next to her equally
graceful hands holding the steering
wheel.
NORTH Vivid images of earlier car rides
flash before my eyes...
Homebound from the hospital,
10 a 23-year-old new mother, my
— Sheldon Harnick mother—a first-time grandmother—
in the back seat, delighted: the
salt-and-pepper haired man (now
in his 50s), born just 7 days earlier,
angelic, with reddish-goldish hair,
reportedly grabbed her finger and
they are now “holding hands”...
Driving to Boston twenty-some
years later, holding two teddy
bears–one blue, one pink. About
an hour earlier, I got a call from the
salt-and-pepper haired man, then a
young physician-in-training, that
my first grandchildren had just been
born, The Twins... Getting to hold
a tiny three-pound preemie, now
the lovely young woman driving us
(as well as her four-pound adorable
twin brother, now taller than I), in
the palm of my hand, tears of joy
streaming...
Driving to the hospital more
recently, I am the patient, my grown
boy—the doctor—taking me for a
consult, arranging all the details,
helping me navigate the mud of
confusing uncertainties... Back
home, his all-grown-up, kindhearted
daughter (just got her driver’s
license) coming to visit, patiently
teaching me how to use the icons
on my new iPhone...
A compact disc playing Simon
and Garfunkel’s songs is now
interrupting “Sounds of silence”
and I am humming the familiar
lyrics. A glorious sun just set
ahead, and as evening falls hard
and darkness comes, I smile at
the backs of my silver boy and his
golden girl, grateful for being here,
for being able to sail right behind
them, for being able to glimpse
at their time which has come to
shine, at their dreams which are
on their way. And—like a bridge
over water—over a river of love, I
can see the links of a sturdy chain,
connecting the dots, crossing us
over time.
“Sail on, silver girl
Sail on by
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way
See how they shine
Oh, if you need a friend
I’m sailing right behind
Like a bridge...”
“Wasn’t it yesterday when they were small?” — Sheldon Harnick
“I don’t remember growing older — When did they?”