An unknown June 11th Bonnie Chelin and Joyce Katzman story…by Robert M. Katzman
By Robert M. Katzman, Copyright June 11, 2017:
This is a kind of a melancholy story, honestly, but not what you might be thinking.
What follows is a true but an unknown Bonnie/Joyce story, in which the villain, I truly regret…was me.
My beautiful older sister, Bonnie Sue, who, as she endlessly instructed me,was 2 years, 6 months and 8 days older than me, and who died today in 2010 at 62. Since she was born in the same year as Israel, when Bonnie turned 13, so did Israel-a unique country/human Bar Mitzvah–whose government issued a large special framed document to any boy or girl who requested it. Bonnie’s hung on the wall above her bed. It was in Hebrew, in full color and to those of us who understood the historical sequence of events, deeply moving. Even I at eleven years understood that.
Their lives shall not be forgotten while I still breathe. Their names kept alive. Bonnie and Joyce mattered to many people.
Bonnie’s eventual extraordinary close friendship with my wife Joyce who recently died on May 14th, or Mother’s Day, was amazing to me, since it began in a screaming fury when Joyce, the (formerly) Lutheran girl from Dolton, Illinois quietly approached Bonnie and made it clear that she was in love with (continuously) Jewish me and we were going to be married. She wanted peace between them. It took a long time for the two women to learn to appreciate each other. Then love each other. I found this incomprehensible.
In former times for some people, most likely even today, differences in religious beliefs were a sufficient barrier to prevent love between two people. But Joyce came to love Bonnie, and probably eventually, Bonnie felt the same way about her. At the end of Bonnie’s life, Joyce was her nurse, confidant and endlessly available to her–which then antagonized me because I didn’t have that sort of relationship with Bonnie. Â Even when we were both children.
Then one day Joyce suggested we go to a Rabbi whom we both respected and listen to what he would say about what I considered an unresolvable issue between my wife and myself. I agreed to do that, and was surprised to know that Rabbis did that kind of thing. Who knew?
At the end of the hour plus, when each of us carefully expressed our perspectives and frustration, and probably in my case, jealousy of how they treated each other, the Rabbi slowly repeated exactly what both of us had told him, so that we both knew he actually understood how we felt.
After that, he turned to me to say he believed that Joyce’s care for and relationship with my very ill sister had nothing to do with me, that I should be more compassionate about Joyce’s love and grief over Bonnie and her situation, and that in return Joyce would likely become closer to me as a result of my agreeing to this new perspective.
I was incredibly surprised to see how uncomplicated this situation was to the Rabbi, how perceptive and clever it was for Joyce to get perpetually stubborn and angry me to agree with her arranging this meeting and in a flash I realized the clear logic of the Rabbi’s opinion. Took me a minute to reorganize my thinking and let go of my fossilized anger.
I turned to face Joyce, apologized for my blindness to what mattered so much to her, and then hugged and kissed her, to her wide-eyed astonishment, then I turned back to the equally surprised Rabbi who evidently was not used to such rapid resolution between estranged couples, shook his hand and informed both of them that no further Solomonesque intervention was necessary. That I understood how difficult I had persistently made it for Joyce and I was truly sorry.
I promised to change, support Joyce’s relationship with Bonnie and never act like I had acted again. I didn’t realize how much stress I was causing and that it was a terrible way for me to be.
Then as we stood up, and I helped Joyce put on her coat, I watched with some amusement at the mystified facial expressions being exchanged between my good wife and the wise Rabbi. Almost like a silent movie moment.
Sort of a “What the hell just happened…?” mutual kind of look.
I’ve always believed that when I realized I was wrong about something, I should just say it, be sorry and get on with my life. My worrying about “losing face” or anything stupid like that was ridiculous to me. Pride can ruin lives.
That meeting did bring down the wall  between Joyce and me. It did bring us closer because I was willing to except and understand Joyce’s emotions, and it somehow increased my own own compassion for Bonnie, despite the coldness between us.
Joyce’s care for Bonnie continued until Bonnie’s death on this exact day, June 11th. It never was an issue between Joyce and me again and lowered the overall combustable temperature of our relationship. Just possibly more kissing ensued.
So, this is the happy ending to my story. It was sometimes difficult for me to type all these more than one thousand words. I had trouble seeing the letters on the keys when I reimagined the love between those two doomed women.
God should reconsider how quickly he takes irreplaceable people. Maybe He has. Maybe that’s where this story came from on this sad day. I never planned to write about something so intensely personal and where I was the source of pain to both women. Â Maybe I should be more forgiving about things I don’t understand.
I love Bonnie and I always will no matter what wasn’t possible between us during our time together.
And Joyce? Oh, beautiful Joyce. What are you to me these 27 days you’ve been gone? You are the gentle light in the morning, the silence in the dark at night, and as essential as the air I breathe. I am the unfinished story between us, and I will do my best to fulfill your last wishes for me.
I love you, faraway girl.
Bob
**This is a strange thing, but I just realized an odd coincidence, although Rabbis tell me there are no coincidences.
My wife Joy died on May 14th 2017 which I had only thought of as Mother’s Day.
But she converted to Judaism beginning in 1977 and the day she died was the 69th anniversary of the founding of Israel. After 42 years together, I think she was more Jewish than I am. It’s the oddest thing.
Whatever anyone may or may not think of this, it sure looks like someone really approved of her, besides me. Damn.
The New York Times: May 14, 1948 |
Israel Declares Independence
Publishing News!Â
Bob Katzman’s two new true Chicago books are now for sale, from him!
Vol. One: A Savage Heart  and Vol. Two: Fighting Words
Gritty, violent, friendship, classic American entrepreneurship love, death, heartbreak and the real dirt about surviving in a completely corrupt major city under the Chicago Machine. More history and about one man’s life than a person may imagine.
Please visit my new website:Â http://www.dontgoquietlypress.com
If a person doesn’t want to use PayPaI, I also have a PO Box & I ship anywhere in America.
Send me a money order with your return and contact info.
I will get your books to you within ten days.
Here’s complete information on how to buy my books:
Vol 1: A Savage Heart and Vol. 2: Fighting Words
My books weigh almost 2 pounds each, with about 525 pages each and there are a total together of 79 stories and story/poems.
Robert M. Katzman
Don’t Go Quietly Press
PO Box 44287
Racine, Wis. 53404-9998                                                           (262)752-3333, 8AM–7PM
Books cost $29.95 each, plus shipping
For: (1)$3.95; (2)$5.95; (3)$7.95; (4)$8.95 (5)$9.95;(6) $10.95
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I am also for hire if anyone wants me to read my work and answer questions in the Chicago/Milwaukee area. Schools should call me for quantity discounts for 30 or more books. Also: businesses, bookstores, private organizations or churches and so on.
My Fighting Words Publishing Co. four original books, published between 2004 and 2007 are now out-of-print. I still have some left and will periodically offer them for sale on my new website.
