Anne Durrum Robinson

Anne Durrum Robinson * 1913 - 2005 Anne died on June 7, 2005. This blog has been set-up to share remembrances from her friends and colleagues arounbd the world. Please constibute a favorite story of Annie, an anecdote, a quote or how she touched you. Anyone may comment but if you wish to add your own entry, please send an e-mail to paul@theinnovationroadmap.com and I will add you to the blog team.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Missing Anne

Sometimes I write to share stories. Sometimes I write to encourage others to take action with me about something I care about. Sometimes I write to clear up my own confusion. Sometimes just to express feelings that I can't contain.

The weekend after Anne died, I wrote a lot... trying to accept and incorporate all that I received from Anne Durrum Robinson. And come to terms with feelings of sadness -- about no more lunches with her -- and feelings of great joy -- for her liberation from a body that had become utterly excruciating to live in.

For all the time I knew Anne, we both lived with chronic pain. Over the last six months, miraculously, I began to ascend out from under some of mine. And, I just about to call her to celebrate this ... and her birthday... IN THE FLESH. When I heard she'd gone on and taken her full liberation, I felt really stuck. To celebrate with me in the flesh, she would have had to abandon that Freedom and cross back over into the pain... and that's not what I would ever want for her.

Such sweet ambivalence.

Out of that ambivalence, during my journaling Saturday, two "mini-sagas" emerged. (A mini-saga is a 50-word narrative. Exactly 50 words, a short-short-short story, like a "haiku," only longer, because it's a story. The kind of exercise that Anne loved!) I was reaching for something short enough to include on a sympathy card for her family but long enough to hold a taste of the complexity of our frienship.

Hey, Daytripper! Meet Yo Mamma

Born ahead of myself, I flew through youth, tried to juggle too much, lost my grip, and lurched past 50 -- smack into Anne Robinson. Sorely needing a role model, I traded the Mother of Invention a push in her wheelchair for wisecracks and a hard shove into the Present.

Suffer? No, Fools!

Anne Robinson showed me how to cradle the magic of the moment - and laugh outloud - without blinking an eye or turning away from the inevitable rape of time. When I hooked up her old Mac to a new used printer, she said it wailed like a birthing mother.


I already miss Anne's voice and her fingers and her laugh and her fabulous sense of style. I'm going to miss sharing confidences, whispered like school girls, trusting each other enough to share the WHOLE truth of the moment when it wouldn't be kind - or even useful - to say it all aloud. And I'm really going to miss her intelligence and bravery - so broad, so tall, so deep, and so gentle - all at the same time.

I love you, Anne... and I always, always will. I'll see you again in a little while.

And we'll both be all-the-way free.

Meri Aaron Walker

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