Lillian Secrest Buie's Weblog

It’s the chipping away at life I resent

What Edna St. Vincent Millay wrote about love applies to life, too. “’Tis not love’s going hurts my days, but that it went in little ways.”

I can accept death, a biological necessity,

A period marking an end

To a full, abundant life.

It’s the chipping away I think I resent –

The muffling of sound

The fading of sight

The loss of a limb

Bright mind now dim.

No, it’s not death’s going that hurts my days, but that it comes in little ways.

Oh God, let me LIVE every day of my life.

'Do Not Go Gentle into the Good Night'

May, 1978: Visiting with Uncle Vann in the morning made me aware of the courage and pathos of old age. Like the speaker in Dylan Thomas's poem, he will not "go gentle into the good night." But during our visit he was gentle and sweet and for the most part uncomplaining. Next month he will hold his first great grandchild in his arms, and feel, I hope, a certain surge of immortality....Uncle Vann's reactions to physical limitations recall vividly memories of Daddy's impossible behavior in his last years of life. Having railed so bitterly against illness, I think he was startled in his last moments to feel death approach as a gentle friend.

Despite the Ravages of Time, Retaining the Grace and Charm of An Ancient Heritage

April 6, 1978: [Alton Gibson was in his final days at Duke hospital, so Lil offered to spend the night with Grace's mother at their home in Laurinburg.] At the Gibsons with Grace's mother, Mrs. Loving. A tiny, old Virginia lady retains the grace and charm of an ancient heritage despite the ravages of time. Her frail body distorted from a stroke and her delicate throat choked with the bits of a malignant poison. Mrs. Loving refuses to yield to indignities. She fights nausea with the same fortitude Southern ladies fought the crass invasion of the damn Yankees. Even when forced to yield to the pain and vomiting, she maintains her poise as she takes pride in avoiding soiling the bed, and bravely attempts to remove the spoiled nightgown all by herself. But her independence doesn't interfere with her ability to accept loving concern, and she yields gracefully as I lift the offending garment over her small gray head. Yes, she will choose the fresh gown from several I bring to her bedside, and gallantly she picks the prettiest of the three and wears it with pride. Always the gracious hostess, she urges me to have "cream and cake" before I retire and bids me to rest well. From ladies like her, you know that the South was never really defeated.

Poem I wrote my children when feeling anxious about impending surgery

If I should leave you,

Will you let me be

A happy memory?

Will you laugh again

At my silly jokes,

Read the books I used to read,

Sing the songs I loved to sing?

Or,

Will you lock me away

In a tight little box,

Surrounded by tears and grief?

No.

Remember me with love and laughter,

And

Let me live again.

Sign of old age: changing a cherished scent from Chanel to Bengay

September 8, 1982: At 62, I'm proud of my wrinkles, or character lines

"You are a teacher?" the photographer's assistant asked me pleasantly as I stood patiently in line with my first period class. Wonder how she guessed!

Our identifying envelopes are all the same: school____; student name_____; homeroom _____; boy___; girl___. I crossed out student and put an F instead of marking ___girl. At 62, I really have no desire to be a girl again. When I watched CBS News last night, demonstrating new techniques by electric needles of laser beams to eliminate wrinkles and to effect a kind of face lift, I realized I'm proud of my "character lines." As long as I can retain a youthful spirit, I don't want to deny my years. They've taught me a lot. So I followed the directions to "look pleasant" and give the camera a cheery smile. The result will probably be a faky picture but at least I know I'm real!