SHE ALWAYS WORE PEARLS

Mom lived to 93, so I gratefully believed I had the chance to really know her. Not just as mother, but as woman, wife, and survivor. A privilege I was denied with Dad who died much too young at 63. And yet....

It took Joan to pose a question I regretted I could not answer: "She always wore pearls. I wonder why?"

Never noticed before. But there they are in every photo, from the day of her wedding to the days of her aging. I suppose a son isn't obliged to know the answer to something that marginal to a life of 93 long years; and yet, the question still troubles me. It's the sort of question which can -- maybe should -- be asked of all the ones we know and cherish in our lives. Why, why, why?

The opportunity for this answer is now over. Mom is gone. So is Dad. So are all the family members with whom they grew up and reached such decisions as wearing pearls. Maybe it was some screen star's pearls who first intrigued my young Mother. Or possibly what her mother wore. Or then again, it's entirely likely that this smooth gleaming jewel spoke to her heart in some special ways.

I will never know.

This little cloud of ignorance hovers over almost all the lives in our life. Even our siblings, children, friends, teachers, clergy and leaders. Certainly it's not our right to know all the answers to such questions. But whenever we don't, haven't we lost the right to intone those rather pretentious words: "I know this person."

Multiply this by a factor of 6 billion, and it's clear why we each walk in a world of strangers. What we know of them and they of us is largely what we each permit. This much and no more. When both the Bible and Shakespeare say "know thyself," the invitation is not any easy one. And when it comes to others, an almost impossible one.

So.

In the chatter of what is called our freedom of speech, we all speak much nonsense about our fellow man. From our family to our bosses to our clergy to our leaders. Having the right to criticize is clear; but the right doesn't always make us right! So when Uncle Peter makes political pronouncements at the family dinner table and cable pundits do the same during the family hour, pause. A pause in which to ask ourselves: How can they or I be so sure about other people when I don't even know why they like pearls...?