Sara in your words

I've been going through the contents of a folder I found while cleaning out my mom's apartment, discovered after the "nostalgia box" had been hauled to my storage unit in Virginia and therefore jammed unexamined into my suitcase so I could stay focused on the tasks at hand. (So many tasks.) Among the photos and miscellaneous bits of writing, was this gem that seems to me to capture so much about her: How she thought. How she questioned. How she struggled.

I thought you might appreciate it, too.

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March 16, 1977

Something happened to me today in the seminar when students began to discuss the readings on problems and methods of women's history. All the pleasure I had taken in reading Sherry Ortner's piece on male and female, culture and nature, in Natalie Davis' piece on European women's history and its potential directions, in Mill's "Subjection of Women" was…

The first time I met Sara was in New York City at her club. Agnes Scott had sent me to the city to reacquaint Sara with her alma mater. On that evening, she swept into the room with such grace, confidence and…je na sais qua that I was dumbstruck. I felt like a country bumpkin, even though I had grown up in a city, and she had once been Little Sally Ector from Marietta.

I wish I could have been the fly on the wall for that metamorphosis from little Sally to Sara, citizen of the world. She did say that at some point she knew that if she could speak a foreign language fluently, she could create a whole different – and far broader world. And in adulthood, Sara presented as at least as French as American.

I was so fortunate that following my New York visit, Sara folde…

My mom didn’t leave any instructions as to what should be done with her ashes. She didn’t need to. Yesterday afternoon, I scattered her remains on the same Norfolk hillside where her beloved Alec’s were buried.

What a loss, we are heartbroken and stunned to hear this news months later.

Joanna and I met Sara in the early 90's, when, having moved to Lakeville CT, down the road from Norfolk, she decided to return to the piano and engaged me as her teacher. She studied with me for a couple of years, working on Chopin, Bach, Mozart, some French music. She was a wonderful student, very dedicated and self-deprecating. She refused to experiment with improvisations, which I suggested would be a fun, creative thing to add to her piano toolbox. Whether she was afraid of making mistakes or didn't feel like she had permission to make something up, it was about the only facet of her multitalented life that didn't match the brilliance of everything else she turned her attention to. As we became friends with Sara and later with Alec, and saw her whip up…