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One of the warmest and most treasured memories of my once-a-week therapy has to do with a very everyday type of experience. I write of this event, as it captures in a simple way Marian's directness, her optimism, and her unmistakable “forward edge thinking.”
Marian had broken her ankle and, although she continued to see patients in her home office, she was unable to drive to her downtown office. We had had one or two phone sessions and then she suggested I drive out to her suburban home. After dictating the directions, she said, “Now Lucy, read the instructions back to me.” By the time I finished reading, I was weeping quietly to myself. When we met for the session, we explored the intensity of my experience—no one had wanted to see me so much that they wanted to make sure I could get there—“you'll find it by yourself,” was more the response I got from my unconcerned parents. After Marian and I had discussed all the various ramifications of her remark, she said, with her typical humor, “Well, Lucy, you didn't have a Jewish mother, or your response might have been different.”