In March 1, 1970, the front page of the New York Times reported that then-Nixon administration adviser Daniel Patrick Moynihan had advised that the issue of race in the United States “could benefit from a period of ‘benign neglect.’” Years of racially inspired violence and polemics had “created opportunities for martyrdom, heroics, histrionics, or whatever,” and Moynihan advised that the U.S. government’s focus on racial problems actually helped stoke them.

These days of my bed rotting with my two warm and cuddly felines, Niño and Niña, I think about my past and how because of my advanced age I have lost most of it and what remains is a distant memory.

I remember adoring my maternal grandmother (the only grandparent I ever had as all the others were dead) until she died in 1970. She educated me with refrains from the Don Quijote de la Mancha. She would save me from chinelazos (whippings from my mother using Filipino slippers) saying to her that she had to be more understanding as I was an artist like the one my grandmother was.

It seems that the idea of a family has thinned out in this century. I do remember that in our family dinners on Springer Avenue in Burnaby in the late 70s there seemed to be lots of conflict. We actually fought at the table! So in spite of rosy memories from the past they  were not all that rosy all the time.

Before Rosemary died on December 9 2020 there were at least two important family dinners in our home either in Kerrisdale or in Kitsilano. One was at Canadian Thanksgiving and the other at Christmas Eve. I would buy a large roast beef that I would singe in the barbecue and then place in our oven with the necessary vegetables. I was in charge of making the gravy from the drippings and Rosemary would make her glorious Yorkshire Pudding.

That all ended with Rosemary’s death. It was also after her death that my two granddaughters started not visiting me until the the visits stopped as did the, ¿Cómo estás Papi?” They never phone.

The only (only with emphasis) family dinner is now once-a-year on Christmas Day and it is a bit forced as the family of wife, husband and two granddaughters, and a mother-in-law seems like an event I do not look forward to. But my eldest daughter from Lillooet does manage to come.

I wonder what would have happened if my wife had been the survivor and not me. Would she get more input in visits? Could it be that they see this man as being more self-sufficient? Or do they see me as an old man who is no longer useful?

I miss the stability that my Rosemary represented. She was the one who wore the pants in our family. She knew how to do finances and how to mediate with family squabbles. I could always count on her to listen.

I cannot complain about my finances as both my daughters deal with the complex items of my taxes and my banking. My youngest daughter who is a wellness expert takes care of morning pills.

But all that does not compensate that I miss that family warmth that I had until 4 years ago.

I find that the only person who would understand all the above is my Rosemary.

Benign neglect it is.