In Memory of Sally Boasberg

In the wee hours of this morning, I dreamt I was in a crowded room, where the memorial for Sally Boasberg apparently was taking place. An unknown woman appeared to tell me I was included in the speaking program, and my turn was about to be. I was dumb struck. I had not been notified earlier and was therefore unprepared. Not being quick-witted and unable to speak extemporarily, I faced intense embarrassment and paralyzed by fright woke up. Failing to fall back to sleep, I composed the following before arising.

Nietzsche once said the life of a great man ought to be summarized by three telling anecdotes. I would like to summarize the life of a great woman, Sally Boasberg, with three such anecdotes.

First, as a student in a very competitive, woman’s college, Sally asked her father what course of study she should pursue. He told her to select a subject unlike history and literature that would be difficult for her to manage on her own. She took his advice and, skipping esoteric inquiries like solving Fermat’s Last Theorem, chose to examine the propositions that had stirred many of the best minds since Socrates, those of philosophy. Not only that, she challenged herself by writing a paper on an aspect of Immanuel Kant’s work, he who was one of the discipline’s most complicated practitioners. Her efforts were so successful that she was ranked first in her graduating class.

Then, when her four children had grown beyond the need of her constant care, she became a landscape designer and made barren ground bloom, not only in the District of Columbia, but in many other locations. She also beautified her own back yard, now her memorial, which bursts forth each spring to shame the lifeless lumps along Cemetery Ridge in Gettysburg and Napoleon’s Sarcophagus in Les Invalides.

Lastly, she endured a devastating disease that kept destroying healthy cells until there were no more with a stoicism that would have impressed Zeno of Citium. She uttered no complaint, no Trojan woman’s wail.

This lovely lady, cognizant, creative, and courageous, earned a place in the hearts and minds of those who had the good fortune to know her. Sally’s spirit was to me as Juliette’s cheeks were to Romeo: “O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!”

Farewell, dear Sally. You will be sorely missed. May you rest in peace.

W. H. H. Rees, New Haven, Connecticut. November 11, 2014