My spouse for 24 years, friend for 44, and companion the whole way and back, Kathy shares her Jan. 9 birthday with our former boss Richard Nixon as well as her daughter, Meaghan — and now it’s President Carter’s funeral day at Washington National Cathedral.
Today we’re celebrating Kathy’s birthday by doing our bit with the people of God in the Episcopal Diocese of Los Angeles, for whom the anniversaries of these early January days will bring memories of lost homes and churches, the smell of smoke, the clutch of anxiety like icy hands around the heart.
And for Kathy and me as well, now. Because sorrow and joy huddle together every day. The Feast of the Transfiguration makes room for the annual remembrance of the attack on Hiroshima. In the United States, the feast of the Epiphany, when the universe met the Prince of Peace, will forever keep company with a sore loser’s violent attempted coup d’état.
There aren’t enough days to go around for anyone’s natal feast to be free of unfortunate association — yet since I go through each day with Kathy, they’re all cause for celebration.