POWER OF WOMEN

Ms. Fonda,

I just had the pleasure of listening to the interview you gave for “Death, Sex, and Money.” And while I enjoyed it, felt bolstered by it, nodded my head in commiseration, and shed some empathic tears, there was one thing of which you spoke that left me shaking my head. It is a benevolent bone of contention, and I must respond to it.

Near the end of the interview, you made the observation to Ms. Sale that you are not, by nature, a caretaker. I must say, my dear, this is not true. Not true at all. You said it’s a statement with which your friends do not agree, but you know.

But there are a wealth of examples from your life which show demonstrably that you are of a mind, heart, and soul that are, at their core, dedicated to taking care of others. During the last phase of his life, you were there for your father. I know. I read what you wrote about that period. I observed the pictures from that time you were so kind to share with us. I’ve seen firsthand a person caring for a loved one during his final months, weeks, days, and hours of life. What I observed in your words and photos reveals that you are a like soul. And I will tell you: such human beings are indeed very rare to encounter.

What’s more, you are honest about such a situation: It is uncomfortable. Very. But you do it. You have accrued the wisdom to know that one must take such a situation one day at a time. Which, when we find ourselves dealing with such things, is all we can do.

As if this weren’t enough, consider your life as it has been and continues to be. You have lived an extraordinary life, and no one could justifiably assign blame to you if you decided to retreat 14,000 feet above the timberline to seek silence and respite. However, you haven’t done this. And I bet I know why. Simply put: You care too much about this world and those of us who populate it.

Consider GCAPP. My goodness, you didn’t have to do it. No one forced you. Except yourself. Except your love and compassion for others, both of which are formidable in the best possible way. And what of Lulu? Without you, would she have been bolstered to search for and become her own best person?

Consider, too, we to whom you have offered kind words and valuable advice during the times when we most needed it. Times that might have descended into self-destruction if not for the extension of your empathy. Speaking personally, I struggle with depression every day. Just as many other human beings do. But during those darkest of periods, when it’s midnight in my soul and I’m feeling helpless and the depression has begun to rise to its most acute level, I think of what you wrote to me. It allows me to feel less alone. It shears up my stamina. It fortifies me. It provides me with knowledge, compassion, and wisdom that allow me to get my chin up and to continue waging battle in the trenches. And I’ve largely you to thank for this. Whenever things get too hard; whenever the pain seems insurmountable; whenever I feel alone and of no worth — you inevitably come into my thoughts, along with what you wrote to me, and you champion me on. You have shown me that defeat is not the sole choice in one has in life. That’s it ever so much better to live and do my part in making the world, however I can and to the best of my ability, a better place. A kinder place. A fairer place.

There are many people who have become famous who choose to talk the talk without walking the walk. This does not apply to you. Not only do you speak; you listen. And this is the only way true communication occurs. One cannot wholly exist without the other. You understand this. You practice this. How wonderful it would be if more people did.

I know you wouldn’t know me from Adam. I’m just a struggling writer living in Columbus, Ohio, taking care of a parent and finding those hours when I can hole away in his room and read and study and apply what he’s learned to his art. Someone who isn’t famous, nor has a desire to be; but who writes because he must, and who does his best to remain steadfast in the belief that he will share what he has learned of the world with others through his work. And yet you — who has done so much, and has applied her talent and humanity in making the world a better place — has listened to me. Has told me, “Damn it, you have worth.” And has offered that to so many other human beings who struggle? What that means! Words hardly seem adequate.

You offer care and compassion to people you’ve never even met! And for those you have, for your friends and family, you offer the same. My goodness, you even sign your emails “Ma.” As in “Mother.” As in she who brings life into the world and loves and nurtures that life. And who does that? I’ll tell you: A person who cares for and takes care of others.

And that, Ms. Fonda, exemplifies you. Perfectly. You might not agree with it, but there it is. You cannot help but care for others and do what you can for them. It’s hardwired. It’s rare. It’s a blessing.

Gratitude cannot quite get its arms around what I feel when thinking of you. By your very presence, you make me keep fighting even when I think the only thing to do it throw in the towel.

“Ma”?

Ma, indeed!

With very warm regards,

John