Miriam Meyer-Nord 1938-1993 Photo taken at The Cloisers, NYC, ca. 1982 This Miriam is one of her namesakes.

An Elegy for Miriam At work they called her the gentle breeze, At home she had more substance more like a gentle tree. Family hearth was where she really breathed. There she brought safety, comfort, ease With ample space to come and go, Where talk was free and supple and reading flowed. Always she could get to the heart of the matter. Could converse and analyze ideas and emotions keenly. And yet she also had a generous, listening ear, A playful sparkle of eye, an understanding laughter, A cool intelligence that warmed and brightened her face. Yes we will miss all this, but most of all her grace. It is as if the brightest autumn maple Has been removed from our eye, Or a glistening brook has turned to stone, Or all the red roses torn from our garden. And we her survivors, but compost heap, Without her strength, are left to weep. Miriam was a fine chilled wine, All candlelight and celebration, Mother and wife, sister and daughter, A friend to many, a lawyer too, Endless our days of platonic discourse. How we took it all too much for granted. Gone now that red haired shine, That easy radiance, that delicate intensity. Gone too her giggle of complaints, Her laments for missed perfection, And those penetrating subtleties, Her mind, so quick, nailed down. Our interpreter our analyst, Our advocate and logician, has departed from us Those fertile insights, that wondrous understanding, Are for us no more to imbibe. Our gentle breeze to another place is gone, Having refreshed us with her kind and winsome song. J. Thomas Meyer 10/93 2/00 3/00