I'm an immigrant to these United States. I got my first sense I was
headed in this direction at the age of six when I read L (Lyman) Frank
Baum's classic The Wonderful Wizard Of Oz. After seeing
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer's film version I no longer simply had a sense: I
knew. I asked my mother where Dorothy lived. She asked me why I
wanted to know. "Because I want to visit her" I replied. My mother
explained to me Dorothy lived in Kansas but the real
Dorothy was Judy Garland who lived in Los Angeles.
At the age of six I wasn't clear about the distinction "Dorothy" as
distinct from "the real Dorothy". I was, however, clear
that wherever Kansas and Los Angeles were, one day I would go there and
visit Dorothy.
Twenty years later I had not yet reached the United States (or Kansas
or Los Angeles). The Wonderful Wizard Of Oz and it's call to me was
brought back to my awareness by John's Boorman's metaphysical western
Zardoz with Sean Connery and Charlotte Rampling, Zardoz being a
contraction of The Wonderful Wizard Of Oz. It's soundtrack, the booming, evocative
Beethoven's Seventh Symphony, immediately became part of the soundtrack
of my life.
Eventually I did get to the United States. I landed in Los Angeles then
visited Kansas on a business trip although in neither place did I get
to visit Dorothy. In Kansas I was excited to find a town called
Lawrence (my first name is
Laurence) near the
Platte river (my last name is
Platt) on to which I happily heaped much meaning and significance.
Lawrence Kansas is the town nuked in Nicholas Meyer's harrowing account
of nuclear holocaust The Day After with Jason Robarts which I'd seen a
few years earlier. That thought turned around and around in my mind as
I quietly ate a hamburger at a local Lawrence mom and pop café.
Nothing appeared to be radio active.
Five years later I finally did visit Dorothy, realizing my childhood
dream. But by then, in an interesting turn of fate, the Dorothy Gale of
my childhood fantasies had morphed into a new Dorothy, mother of my
friend Werner. Today Dorothy is ninety six years old and is one of my
closest friends. Recently I was fortunate enough to sit with her in her
home, talking quietly on comfortable chairs in her sun drenched living
room, not one iota out of place, not one speck of dust visible
anywhere.
She reached for a cigarette and I leaned over to light it for her. "You
know, Dorothy" I said, feigning a very serious tone as I cupped the
match in my hands, "You shouldn't smoke. Smoking will shorten your
life.".
That's a joke, of course. Telling a spritely ninety six year old to
stop smoking because smoking will shorten her life ... is ... a ...
joke! We looked at each other ... then we both cracked
up in peals in joyful laughter.
She seems to defy those things most people would agree should slow
"old" people down. Once I called her on the phone. It rang and rang and
rang and she didn't answer. My thought was she was
asleep
or out or perhaps didn't hear the phone.
Finally, just as I was about to hang up, she answered. She apologized
for taking so long to get to the phone. She said she was up on the
roof tending her roof garden. She said she gets up on the
roof by climbing a ladder she leans against a wall. She said when the
phone rang she had to climb down the ladder to get to the phone. And
she apologized to me for taking so long, saying she was not able to
climb down the ladder very fast.
That blew me away. She's in her mid-nineties. She climbs a ladder to
get up on her roof where she tends a roof garden. She's considerate
enough when the phone rings to put down her work and climb back down
the ladder to answer the phone. And she apologizes for being slow
getting to the phone!
That's the time you know, being with her, you're in the presence of an
extraordinary human being.
When she speaks about her son she speaks as any mother who is proud of
her child's accomplishments would speak. Werner and many of the people
who know him may say his experience of transformation which resulted in
his work in the world came about through completing his relationship
with Dorothy. Dorothy, then, is the heart of Werner's work. She speaks
candidly of the time Werner was away for twelve years. She makes no
attempt to hide the fact it was a distressing, painful time for her.
She tells me "But I always knew he would come back. I just didn't know
when. And I always knew wherever he was, he was OK. Then when he did
come back I almost wasn't surprised. The evening of the first day he
was back I celebrated with a nice glass of wine then had a good night's
sleep.".
Incredulously I asked her "Dorothy, how could you possibly have known
he was OK? He was gone so long. Anything could have happened.". She
then said what has become, for me, the credo which Dorothy lives by:
"I knew he was OK because God is in his heaven and everything's
right with the world.".
I paused to let it sink in. Then I looked at her and offered one of my
own epithets. I said:
"And Dorothy, you're the Mother of God.".
We looked at each other, eye to eye, enjoying the magic of the moment.
We both knew what had just been said. Then one of us winked (I'm still
not certain who), the piety of the moment was broken, and again we both
cracked up in peals of laughter.
It's quite clear to me something extraordinary is possible with her.
From time to time I implore her to make herself available to speak to
those elderly people who seem to have lost all zest for living and are
simply waiting for their own
inexorable
demise. Clearly Dorothy is living proof it doesn't have to be that way.
"Yes" she says, "I'm a phenomenon.". So I say to her, knowing she -
like me - is a graduate of Werner's work, "That's because you choose to
have the life you have. It's because you exercise your choice all the
time, isn't it? You remember to choose it and that's what gives you so
much life.".
But she discounts my theory. She says "But I don't choose
it. That's just the way it is.". And she adds, almost as an
afterthought, "Besides which, I don't know I'm ninety six.".
She told me she has a friend who, in her later years, discovered the
value in going to church regularly. She would call Dorothy quite often
asking her to consider going to church regularly too. Dorothy is one of
the few people I know who can converse with sensitivity, depth, and
great understanding about almost any religion in the world. She is
respectful of all religions. But when her friend suggested she start
going to church regularly, she asked her friend why she was
recommending it. Her friend told her it is an opportunity to be in
God's house.
Dorothy, who lives alone, who drives herself around in her car, who
manages her own life at ninety six, said "I prefer to be at home. God
is already in my house.".
For her ninety sixth birthday I arranged to have plain long stemmed red
roses in a tall glass vase - very
Zen
- delivered. The note said:
Happy 96th Dorothy.
May You Live Forever.
I Love You,
Laurence
I almost added "Dorothy, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas
anymore" but I didn't.
