My First Meeting With Marian Tolpin

Some candles burn hotter than others, some gems have more fire, and some eels are electric. Although I was not Marian's intimate friend and our meetings were few and always at public gatherings, I certainly recognize that Marian Tolpin was a hot, fiery, and electric woman. Therefore, my memories of her are luminous; and in describing my first encounter with her, I hope I can convey the immediacy, the vibrancy, the gruff warmth, the generosity, and the authenticity of this most remarkable person.

As a psychoanalytic candidate I was invited to present a case at the 2000 Self Psychology Conference in Chicago. I need not dwell on my anxiety and intimidated feelings—I wrote about them elsewhere in a piece on my development as an analyst.1 Suffice it to say that my presentation, although it went well, resulted in a surprising gender split in the audience.

There was one vignette, for example, in which my patient, Lara, talked about a photo of her chronically mentally ill mother. I relate the vignette in some detail to explain why Marian's response to it is so memorable. After describing the photograph to me, Lara promised to bring it but then failed to do so. Then, several weeks later, right in the middle of a session and a propos of nothing, Lara handed me a photograph. It took me a second to realize this was THE photo. “A test,” I thought. My patient watched my face and my nonverbal responses.

The woman in the photograph had the vague look of a deteriorating schizophrenic. She stood stiffly and without expression, a slightly plump woman with a puffy face, swollen eyes, and facial skin sprinkled with small brown growths. Her hair was disheveled, but her clothes were clean, and the room spare and orderly. This is Lara's mother looking quiet and childlike, the lifelong fire of her mental illness having finally cooled.

Feeling sad for the two women, the one in the picture and the