Margrit Biever Mondavi - In Memoriam Poem by James B. Earley

Napa Valley's….claim to fame
Within that fame so many names
This bejeweled place…we know
….Visionaries…made it so

Prunes would be the scene instead
…..Rows and rows of drying sheds
The Paradise we've come to know
…Life would not have deemed it so

Had not those dreams of yesterday's
….Kindred souls who paved the way
Spectacular fields…..of robust vines….
Now home to World's prestigious wines

…Born of struggles…….waged in strife
Gratitude 'tis owed…their way of life
…Which…in turn…this new day bred
Absent the prunes…and drying sheds

Some months ago, I penned the poem, NAPA VALLEY - AND THE VISIONARIES, WHO MADE IT SO, addressing modern day Napa Valley, compared to what it might have been, were it not for the combined efforts of the critical band of determined visionaries who paved the way.

Yesterday, October 10,2016, late afternoon, and into early evening, the Robert Mondavi Winery's courtyard lawn hosted a festive gathering singularly committed to a celebration of life honoring Margrit Biever Mondavi, a contributing giant amongst those varied visionaries.

As the evening wore on, amidst the joyous reminiscing, I was struck by the finality of the moment, knowing that I'd placed my last phone call to her, paid my last visit, and gifted my last poem. Yet, I know consolation is mine, within the wealth and depth of poignant memories.

Grateful, I am to have known Mrs. Mondavi over the span of thirty-one magnificent years. Twenty-one of which as an employee of Robert Mondavi Winery, permanently assigned as chauffeur to both she and Mr. Mondavi. During my tenure, I amassed well over a million documented miles traveled. A significant percentage of which Mrs. Mondavi was my lone passenger. We've spent countless hours together, some in total silence, and others in spirited conversation. In time, I came to recognize the warmth, and depth of mutual friendship, in prolific notes of appreciation proffered for the slightest consideration - messages of thanks for small deeds she found as being of major importance. I saw friendship's concept bundled within the countless cards she sent bearing stylistic images of her spectacular artwork. Every single creation, distinctly hers. Distinct ever, as any reigning Picasso.

My last call to Mrs. Mondavi was August 2,2016, her birthday. There was not an answer that morning, so I sang happy birthday salutations, and ended the call with a short message. Upon hearing the news of her passing, I sat for a long time regretting that I had not placed a follow-up call to that birthday greeting. And then, I thought of our final conversation, some weeks prior to her birthday. As I pondered that conversation, suddenly I found myself thrilled by the very fact that we had failed to connect on her birthday. Immediate joy was mine, as I dissected the significance of that final conversation, remembering in vivid detail her very last words to me - 'Jim, you're 'such' a dear friend.' I recalled ending our talk with a good feeling, thinking that during our many conversations over time, both telephonic, and in person, she'd never before expressed the sentiment, in that particular fashion, deploying that glorious adjective 'such.' But as I thought about it, I realized that she had in fact, many times over, uttered those collective words, in that precise order, effected through kindred acts of deliberate kindnesses, delivered, and indeed executed - at just the right emotional moment.

I've witnessed those collective words within the varied concerns shown during a long period where I suffered extensive bouts of severe back pain. Bouts at times so excruciatingly painful, that I would arrive at work, planning the day in two-hour increments - making it to 10 o'clock, then 12, and so on throughout the day. Every single one of those days a significant struggle. Struggles, I thought concealed in an ongoing pretense of personal well-being. Late one night, I met Mrs. Mondavi's arriving flight at San Francisco International Airport. After greeting me, she inquired, 'Jim, how are you feeling? ' 'Quite well, thank you, ' I replied. She came a step closer, looked directly into my eyes, and said, 'Jim, you're not telling me the truth. How, are you feeling? ' At that point, I reluctantly admitted that I was in fact pain stressed. She then offered, 'Lie down in the back of the limo, get some rest, and I will drive us back to the Napa Valley.' Within those words, I found miraculous healing powers, spiritually induced by the moment's generosity, and perhaps also in the notion that no way was I going to lie down, and take a nap in the rear of the limo with Mrs. Mondavi at the wheel. - Those words, 'Jim, you're 'such' a dear friend, ' were explictly echoed - within that healing equation.

On another occasion during that same difficult period, returning from a long day in San Francisco, she decided to do a bit of grocery shopping. I loaded the 5 or 6 bags on the limo floor alongside her. Arriving at the Mondavi residence, I opened the rear door to find her rapidly removing items from grocery bags and placing them inside her giant grey tote bag. 'I asked that she leave the bags be, explaining that I'm paid to bring the bags in.' Without looking up, she said, 'I'm going inside anyway, and I will not go empty-handed.' At that, she disappeared into the garage dragging the loaded bag behind. - That was, Indeed, another, 'Jim, you're such a dear friend, ' moment.

Recollecting multitudinous acts of good deeds, and kind words throughout the years, I recognize that resonating phrase of friendship. I feel its words embedded within the circumstance of a poem I wrote, titled 'Margrit's Words Addressing Jim, ' composed as a note of appreciation to Mrs. Mondavi, and indeed her select cast of accompanying angels; Julie Prince, Carissa Mondavi, Laureen Betts, and Kim Malley, whose collective sensitivity, June 2,2005 helped transform a moment of paralytic anguish, into the luxurious grandeur of consummate bliss:

The assignment; Pickup Margrit Mondavi at Robert Mondavi Winery, and drive to late afternoon appointment:

Arriving onsite some minutes ahead of scheduled departure, I reclined in the limo, seizing the opportunity to unwind a bit from the rigors of an earlier excursion into San Francisco. Alerted by distant voices, I looked up to see Mrs. Mondavi approaching, accompanied by an entourage of four co-workers. Exiting the vehicle, I acknowledged their presence, and exchanged a bit of light banter with a member of the group. Immediately thereafter, she addressed me saying, 'Jim I have some bad news. Mary (Mary Azevedo, Mr. Mondavi's Adminstrative Assistant) passed away this morning.' Weeks, I'd known that death was eminent, but I abruptly discovered that I was emotionally unprepared to accept the news. I recall closing my eyes, biting my lip, struggling to maintain composure - sinking ever deeper into the widening abyss of excruciating grief. But, just as quickly sensed an oxymoronic relief buoyed by the quintessential gift of friendship exemplified by the presence of these compassionate folks who in their collective wisdom chose to stand with me in spiritual solidarity during this challenging ordeal they surmised would be one of my most difficult. Thanks to Mrs. Mondavi and her cast of angels, I'd gone from complete devastation, to infinite joy, within the span of a heartbeat.

MARGRIT'S WORDS.....ADDRESSING JIM

...Julie.....Carissa
Laureen and Kim
And Margrit's words
Addressing Jim

The day a dreary
..One...of June
Its moment...an even
....Greater...gloom

Of death...without
A doubt...expected
...Still..the mind
Outright rejected

The oddity...of
God's will to give
Then snatch away
That right to live

Much.....we fail
....To understand
Yet...clear...the role
Of the fellowman

....An intense glow
Amidst the gloom
...Soothed the soul
That day....in June

...When oxymoron
Lost its meaning
...As joyful sorrow's
Songs were singing

Of Julie....Carissa
...Laureen and Kim
And Margrit's words
..Addressing....Jim

Within the spiritual perimeter of 'MARGRIT'S WORDS.....ADDRESSING JIM, ' I'm poignantly reminded of her final declaration, 'Jim, you're 'such' a dear friend.'

Often, I visit that overcast day, still, I see them all approaching, that portrait, ever more celestial, than before.