Stop All the Clocks

When my mother died, the immediate response was a flurry of activity. Plane tickets to purchase, classes to cancel, things to be arranged at the house for my absence. Death required action. Then there were the decisions in Michigan. Casket, program, phone calls. Death required choices. The action and the choices seemed to shield me in some ways from grief.

This weekend, another death. One which requires nothing of me. Early in the morning of October 29th, Susan Levinkind passed away with her beloved spouse Elana Dykewomon by her side. I learned the new from Facebook when I woke Saturday morning. Susan was for many years the business manager of Sinister Wisdom. She and I worked closely together. She was in many ways the mother, sister, and lover of Sinister Wisdom for twenty-five years. She registered the journal as a nonprofit. She handled all of the books until last fall. She wrote for the journal. She managed the mailing list. She served on the board and sometimes managed the board. Her labor and material contributions to Sinister Wisdom are too many to numerate.

It was not the labor, though, that inspired me about Susan. Do not get me wrong, I appreciated it mightily, particularly over the past year as I have taken on some of the tasks she did for many years. She was a wonderful volunteer and champion for Sinister Wisdom. What inspired me about Susan was how much she loved lesbians. Susan loved lesbians and believed in lesbians. She was all in with lesbians in a way that was delighted, interested, and sustainable. In addition to Sinister Wisdom, she volunteered for many years with Old Lesbians Organizing for Change (OLOC). She loved lesbians and their organizations and their gatherings and their wild and wonderful ways of being in the world. Twenty-five year of working with Sinister Wisdom and its lesbians and she seemed to have LOVED every minute of it. I have never done anything that long in my life. I cannot imagine doing anything that long and do it with such sustained passion and even tempered goodness. Yes, Susan was good and kind and loving.

I have been thinking about all of this for three days now. Today, I did not want to work. I did work, there is always work in front of me, but what I wanted to do was stop all of the clock, cut off the telephone, and just sit in tribute to Susan. That time of silence, that empty space of not doing is what I have missed.

When Tibe was in exile, I came to visit him every day and we would sit for an hour or so, sometimes lying together, sometimes just playing quietly in the basement where he stayed. In Michigan, we had some quiet time as well, but it never felt peaceful and nurturing. I was so angry, so enraged about the conditions that brought us to that space. Here, in Florida, we can lie together. This weekend, I lounged around a lot. Not doing anything. Not making decisions, not making plans. Stop all the clocks. Here is Auden’s final stanza:

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.

For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Susan Levinkind, lover of lesbians, devoted Sinister Wisdom volunteer, now of blessed memory.