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responsibilities in trying to build a business, and the regents [?],
and all of those things, were separate. But they really were never
separate. They were part of, to use the cliche, a team [?] that I
certainly wasn't aware of the extent to which that team influenced my
influenced my functioning until her illness. And of course, her
death. Beyond the usual mourning, there was that terrible sense of
not just loss but emptiness, and how does one continue to function
when an important component of your functioning is taken away. For a
long time, I wondered whether it was possible for me to continue.
This is what I meant by the Menachem Begin syndrome. I understood
more clearly why he resigned. I kept struggling not to give in
totally, not to resign from the business. Interestingly enough, she
helped me in that struggle, because I could hear her saying, “Look,
you've got to keep on.” I always felt that she was much more
practical, and clear and strong, and would not have respected
retreat. That really was the most important determinant of my
struggling to keep on--the fact that I know that she wouldn't have
respected retreat. She just wouldn't have respected it. Whenever I
had any difficulties, say with the Board of Regents or other problems
in my social action approaches, there she was. Realistic--she wasn't
a sentimentalist by any means. We would talk about it together.
After discussions, the inevitable conclusion would be, “All right, we
have to pursue this. Here are the techniques, methods, that might be
relevant.” So that's what I meant.
But these are real conversations, before her death?
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