When Renee Goes

Yesterday my good friend Renee left Jordan—bound for an exciting new job in Abu Dhabi. (Just in case you aren’t sure—I certainly wouldn’t have been two years ago!—Abu Dhabi is the capital of the United Arab Emirates.) Fortune magazine has decreed that Abu Dhabi is the richest city in the world. It will certainly be richer now that Renee is moving there.

Renee left KA in that most desirable of ways—very happy and beloved, but exhilarated at the prospect of an exciting new job. She has been the Director of Admissions at KA since the verrrrry beginning, and now is heading up another start-up school, a branch of NYU in Abu Dhabi, set to open in 2010.

Renee is one of those people you meet and like immediately. She has a sly sense of humor, projects an effortlessly beautiful aura, and works diligently. I met her on my initial visit to Jordan in February, 2007, and liked her from the start. She reminds me of my sister too—unassuming, sharp, and again, effortlessly beautiful, both inside and out.

Renee has the distinction of being the first non-Jordanian to re-locate here to get this place started. When she arrived in May, 2006, the school’s buildings were not yet finished, and she lived and worked out of the Hyatt in Amman for months.

Partly why there haven’t been any blog entries in the last week is that I indulged in a number of good-bye parties to give her a proper send-off. Like most people, I don’t like good-byes. Teachers are conditioned to bid farewells in June—over the years we have worked our way through whatever kind of therapy we need towards this annual emotional Armageddon, and I have learned to handle those partings since I know they come as often as the fall foliage leaves. In Junes you say good-bye to people who have touched your life. It has become as simple (ha!) as that for me over the last 20 years.

But I’m not conditioned to bid adieu to a friend in October—that’s not fair! I’m not ready! I’m entitled to seven more months of shared laughter, shared frustration, shared inspiration, and shared hope.

Renee was a special friend—we have New York in common. It turns out that Renee lived for about eight years just two short blocks north on Central Park West where I spent most weekends from 1996-2006. No way! We always laughed that we must have passed each other on the subway platform or on one of the paths in Central Park! Renee asked me last October to join the Admissions Committee, and we spent many afternoons debating with the committee about who should earn acceptance to KA. Renee would be sitting in her office, introducing me to a student, and we developed a special “code” through using our eyebrows to communicate our reactions to certain students.

Renee has earned a special place in the history of this school. Other people envisioned the mission of the school, other people bought the property, other people designed the buildings, other people scanned resumes for adults to come here, but Renee did what this whole place was imagined for—she brought us our students. And there is nothing more powerful and fulfilling and lasting than what she has done as she combed the deserts of Jordan in the last two years to give us our “clay.” Here they are, dozens of friendly kids from the Arab world, not yet highly trained in scholarly pursuits but daring to go and try. I found kids who welcomed me into their homes, kids who greeted me each day as if we had been apart for weeks, kids who inspire me, kids who I hope to know forever and a day. My friend Renee did that for us.

The last day Renee was on campus, naturally I was a little blue, and out of nowhere I get a text on my mobile phone (remember, that’s what we call those cell phones here in the Middle East) that I had three pieces of mail. Three pieces of mail??! I don’t know if I have had three pieces of mail this entire autumn???!!

I go to the mail boxes in Lubna’s office, and she is bursting to see what I got. I have a package and two cards in the mail. With people’s handwriting on them!! Yipee!!

I have mail from Dawn, Mary, and Tracy. As I am rifling through the cards, missing mail like a fat kid misses cake, and opening the package it hits me—I got mail today from three treasured, long-time friends. I have known Dawn since 7th grade at Gamble Junior High, rivals and friends since French class with Mr. Hall, and super-fans in the Jean Michaels fan club at West High. We have been friends since we were 13!

And then there is Mary, the leader of the pack of comrades at Gaston Day School, ally, co-balcony person, cohort, and co-theater lover. We have been friends since I was 22! Ummm...FYI…Mary has always been much older!

And Tracy—the senior earth mother of the Denison Singers my freshman year at college when we went on the European tour and we forged a friendship based on chocolate and the Alps and love.

On a day when I was already missing a friend I have known under two years, wondering whether the friendship might last the strains of the distance of the desert, came a shower (hey, here 3 pieces of mail is a veritable shower!) of mail reminding me of the beauties and possibilities of life-long friends. If I add up the years I have known Tracy, Dawn and Mare—it comes to a total of 80 years! And these friendships—here comes the cliché of clichés—are like a fine wine, aging gracefully and more lovely with the passing years.

Tracy had already warned me on the phone that a package was on the way. She relayed to me that when she took the package to the post office she was shocked by how much it cost to send it to me in Jordan (by the way, that should still not deter any future package-senders!). She laughed and wondered whether I was worth the exorbitant cost of the shipping! She said the shipping cost so much more than the contents.

So in the box, nestled in tons of newspapers is a mug. Just a mug. But not just any old mug. She sent, I hope she forgives me for sharing this, a mug with the Wizard of Oz scarecrow on it, and her note reminded me that Dorothy knew she would miss him most of all. Dear Tracy relayed that as we “get older I realize how precious good friends have become.”

What a good day for a shower from old friends.

I chose the title of this blog entry from a song I adore, and a song I wrote about last year exactly at this time. If you remember the story, Barry Manilow set an old Johnny Mercer lyric to music and created, in my mind, an instant classic.


When October Goes…
And when October goes
The snow begins to fly
Above the smokey roofs
I watch the planes go by

The children running home
Beneath a twilight sky
Oh, for the fun of them
When I was one of them

And when October goes
The same old dream appears
And you are in my arms
To share the happy years

I turn my head away
To hide the helpless tears
Oh how I hate to see October go

I should be over it now I know
It doesn't matter much
How old I grow
I hate to see October go

But as I see October go, and see Renee go, I also have the chance to wish my sister a very happy birthday—a sister that is a non-pareil as a sibling and a friend.

As I sat there holding Tracy’s incredibly expensive-to-ship mug, it reminded me of a moment from the old TV show, The Wonder Years. Kevin, our adolescent wunderkind, had received a Christmas present from his dream-girlfriend, Winny. He opens the box and spies a four-leaf clover. More valuable than gold, these friends, like four-leaf clovers, are the best luck and presents in the world.