All That Matters

BALBOA PRESS

Contents

How It All Began..............................................1The Hounds Tooth Inn..........................................9Mirror, Mirror On The Wall....................................21Reawakening...................................................33The French Blue House With The White Trim.....................45Time And Tide Wait ...........................................90For No Man Or Woman...........................................99... Or Feline.................................................144... Or Child..................................................169The Not By Chance Occurrence..................................200The Secrets Begin To Unravel..................................225The Revelations Begin.........................................234Synergy Begun.................................................253Synergy Completed.............................................258All That Matters..............................................275

Chapter One

Once upon a time, many years ago, I remember hearing my parents say, "All that matters is that ..." This expression took hold of me and became the watchwords of my life. All that matters is that she is healthy. All that matters is that no one gets hurt. All that matters is that you behave, use your common sense, and get good grades. All that matters is that you rest, relax, and have a good time. All that matters is that you finish school and make something of yourself. All that matters is that you take pride in what you are doing, what you have done, and what you are going to do. All that matters is that you find love and happiness in this cockeyed world.

I followed that "All that matters ..." advice and achieved what I thought was right for me. I went to school and even continued my education receiving a PhD in Philosophy and one in Physical Science (not so opposing ideologies, by the way), studying at well-known and respected universities across our great country. I met and married the man of my dreams while in my very early thirties. He was also a respected scientist. Unfortunately, we never brought any children to term. Of course, this did depress us terribly, but I remembered, "All That Matters ..." and we were then able to work through the depression of losses. We became so engrossed in our own work, traveling the length and breadth of the world as the needs arose, we pushed all thoughts of progeny aside to work for what our generation called, The Greater Whole.

We each became complete workaholics and tried, at the same time, to do the right things for our bodies as well as our minds and, we thought, for all of living-kind. "All That Matters ..." became our united watch phrase. This went on for twenty-three years. Then everything changed.

I want to say he died, but in reality, only our relationship did that. The divorce was as most divorces are, ugly and terrible to live through, even though it was not difficult to divide our property. It was just the dredging up of long-buried times and events that were so horribly filled with shifting the blame as a constant. It was never a question of money, or even support. We both had earned well, and written well, with volumes sold scholastically and internationally. Prior to our divorce, I had been forced to not only observe, but hold the hands of many of our friends who had gone through the same thing, and when it was my turn, they welcomed me with open arms and I found comfort and solace in their company.

Before I realized it, I was an avid member of this clique of people, women, mostly, who had been dumped when their spouses reached that age of male menopause where they sought comfort, solace, and love from younger, more lithe people. What amazed many of us was that we too, were still lively and extremely active, running marathons, going to gyms, and keeping our forty-five to sixtyish appearances as young as humanly possible. We did all that while going through hormonal changes with real physiological symptoms very difficult not only to describe, as each person reacts differently, but devastating to our own emotional beings. Yet we never stopped seeking information, new ideas, and just plain old fun. And we all tried our damnedest not to let this take us over and ruin us and our relationships. But none of this was enough for the men we married or lived with for so long. Not even re-enacting the Kama Sutra satisfied their avid needs for the "younger set." We finally decided they wanted people who knew very little of the world in actuality, or in general. They wanted to begin again as though they too, were young and just starting out in their adult lives. They wanted to teach and mold, and chose only those so willing to be taught and molded. Once again, I thought "All That Matters ..." is that I come out of this with some peace of mind, some sense of decency, and some of what was owed me for putting up with this stupidity at this time in my life.

Now, to be fair to you, I had better fill you in a little more. I am a Caucasian woman who could easily take early retirement from academia and the rest of this silliness, should she so desire, but I, Emma Epstein, by name (named after Emma Lazarus—my parents loved alliteration ... or maybe it was for Emma Peel, as my Dad loved `The Avengers'), am not like that. I do not like to retreat. I am a searcher, researcher and, in my own way a fighter. And speaking of fighting, I am not a featherweight either. More a cross between a welterweight and a middleweight even though I exercise, eat right, etc. I had often told my mother she birthed me at 110 pounds, since her side of the family consisted of petite people. It was my father's family I took after: the Russian peasant stock side.

I tried for years to play the American game of looking "younger" dying my hair to hide the gray. Sometimes, I had blonde streaks, sometimes changed it all to the reddish-brown hues, but finally gave up because my travels and my work schedules often prevented me from going to my local salon, or any other, for that matter. I also found I liked my salt and pepper appearance. And he liked it too, at least for a while. But as I said, that all came to an end with the divorce.

After the ugliness had settled, I cut back the following semester on my classes, finished my latest book without my editor moving in with me and then took hold of myself once more. Leaving my hair out of it (since the dye never took for longer than a week around the face, and constant touch-ups were time consuming, costly, and boring) I began seriously working out every morning from 6:00 AM to 7:30 AM, seven days a week, walked everywhere I could, and cut out any kind of "bad" food. Okay, once in a while I cheated. Who doesn't! But I did lose the taste for ice cream and other overly sweet things, and switched to whole everything products, all the while reading labels as assiduously as I prepared my research and subsequent reports.

And before I go any further, I must tell you this is most definitely not a "women's" story or a philosophical book or an attempt at expiation. This is a story of the continuing survival of a human being—me, and through me, many, many others. This is a story about what can happen when one makes up one's mind to charge through all the muck and mire heaped not only personally on one, but on the entire world as well.

* * *

Exactly two years after the divorce, I knew I needed and deserved a vacation from work—all kinds of...