An Absolute Love

I remember the many days Susan and I stood on Woodstock's Village Green protesting the Vietnam War.  We looked like Mutt and Jeff, and always joked that we never saw eye to eye.  Physically seeing eye to eye was impossible;  metaphorically, however, our visions resembled Siamese twins.  We stuck together through thick and thin.  Luckily, neither of us became too thick physically.

About Lowell, an absolute love, a great translator.  Lowell is one of the kindest and most gentle men I've ever known.  Lowell and Susan introduced me to two of their friends.  Arthur Samuelson and Dan Friedenberg.

Dan met Susan when she left college, (became unmatriculated) and entered the wildness of life.   Dan remembers how Susan beat him in chess.   He was most certainly devastated; perhaps, because he was a young man full of a male hormone, testosterone, which also exists in women.  Susan wanted PEACE more than anyone could imagine, except for all the people she chose to befriend.

I was lucky; she chose me and stuck with me through thick and thin.  And one of those thin times was in 1989.  My father had died; I went off to California; came back alone; we spoke and Susan knew exactly what I needed.  She made a match between me and Dan.  Often she told me not to cry “for more than a couple of hours over any man” she knew well the drama of love.  If I  cried for more than an hour over any man I would develop wrinkles, and then I'd never be able to find another man.

-- Abigail Robin