by Diana (aged 12)
A septic tank, as you can see,
All guests must please NB,
Will not put up with cigarettes,
Papers of sweets, never lets
You throw therin, without protest
For every bum it does not like,
This tank will stage a “sit down” strike!
Really sad news, at least she had her cats with her and the best way to go is during ones sleep.
We had such a wonderful time in New York with Micky that year, I can’t now remember when it was. We went off to the barn, she drove up with her cats wondering all over her car.
Micky went fishing and swam in her lake but there were only turtles there and these had probably eaten all the fish and they nearly bit Micky’s bottom. Di was surprised and worried that he had jumped into her lake with the carnivorous turtles.
Di came to Rome to see Mummy who was already sick with emphysema, it must have been in 1987 when we were living in a flat in Laurentino 38. She was so wonderful with Micky who was just over one. I must have a photo of them both but I have not yet been able to find it yet.
When I have a little more time, I’ll write about other memories of Di, like Patrick’s wedding in the lake district or a trip to Clober.
This one is only peripherally a Diana story.
When I was 13 my parents sent me and my friend, both naive little boys from Africa, across the sea to stay with Diana. How overwhelming it was: the big city, the amazing loft, the people, the animals.
Diana’s then husband Bob took the two of us to see a Knicks game at Madison Square Garden. We got on the subway at West 4th St, and happened to be in the last carriage of the train. I was transfixed, staring out the back window at the lights retreating down the tunnel.
We pulled into a station, which I now know was 34th St (where Madison Square Garden is), and as the train pulled out with me still at the back window, I saw Bob and my friend standing on the platform, mouths agape in shock.
Always the bright spark, I thought “well I’ll just get off at the next stop and walk back to them”.
The next stop is 42nd St, in the 1970’s was not the place it is now; certainly not a place for a 13 year-old boy, and most definitely without line-of-sight back to 34th St (as my desert savannah trained brain might have thought.)
Undaunted though I set off to find my lost guide and friend. Many helpful punters offered me sights I could never have imagined, “peeps” at this and that, and substances I could only guess at. But none could guide me home.
After several hours it finally dawned on me to call Diana collect. She was frantic and had mobilized half of New York to find me.
Shortly after arriving in New York as a South African correspondent for Argus Newspapers 45 years ago, I was soon introduced to Di, one of the best- known South Africans then working at the United Nations.
We became good friends and the loft at La Guardia Place, filled with fascinating people, cats and birds and that legendary piano of Dollar Brand’s, became a favorite hangout.
Fourteen years older, she was also a sister and a mentor.
When in 1980 my brother Simon and his wife Shayne (recently arrived from SA) and my then husband Chris Lupton and I all moved out of the city and together bought a farm in Warwick, upstate, Di came to check the place out. She fell in love with the area and bought a large abandoned barn.
Where was it? Right across the road from our farm. We remained close in every way. She did massive renovations and when my sister Lou arrived from South Africa she rented a room right there.
Di’s cousin Mike Lamb moved into the barn and became one of all my family’s closest chums.
When I had my son David in 1985, Di became his God Mother. We all remained close for many years.
When I left my husband Chris and married Don da Parma, Di was very disapproving – but eventually re-embraced me.
My friendship with Di was my longest and the most important to me since I moved to the US. I will never forget the heart, warmth, wit, wisdom and character she brought to my life, and the lives of my family.
Among my favorite stories Di told involves her being abandoned at a party in the Bronx around 3am with no way back home to the Village. Dark night and in the worst part of town all alone.
From the kindness of a local fishmonger unloading his truck on his rounds, she acquired a large fresh fish. With her new friend comfortably set upon her miniskirted lap, she took the dark and dangerous subway back home, secure that nobody will mess with her.
That’s Di, brave, creative and not at the least concerned to plumb the depths of the absurd in another noble cause.
Thanks to Diana and her hospitality, and the Seattle friends who arranged for us to meet, my trip to NYC in August 2011 was far more interesting than it might have been..
One evening at the dinner table after I had been her guest for a week and a half, I suggested to her that it might be time for the guest to be departing. “Oh Rubbish!” she declared, and I stayed on another week or two.
We used to take a cab over to the east village to a little jazz club called The University Of the Streets, founded in the late sixties, a club just for people who wanted to sing with a live jazz trio (piano, bass and drums), no refreshments, just the music…..
The bass player was the brother of Alan Alda – he howled like a wolf now and then while he was playing…..
Near the end of the evening, the hostess asked: “Does anyone else want to sing a last time?” Diana emphatically pointed to the top of my head with her index finger. This was great because I never would have volunteered myself.
We spent a week end at her country place. The drive up was hair raising; Diana was putting along at forty mph on the West side highway, with people in all three lanes honking furiously at her or or shaking their fists..
“Oh shut up!” she said.
I to drove on the return trip, but not without considerable instruction..
Eating dinner with her could be a feline experience. The cats had free rein on the dinner table and made good use of it. I had no objection – it seemed a normal part of the dinner routine. to have cats nosing around on your plate.
The cats ruled. I am glad they were with her when she died.
There are so many stories… but here’s the most important one. I was already living the magical life of the Loft when I decided to apply to grad school. It was Di who persuaded me to apply to NYU. When I got in, I found that I would not be funded for my first year, which basically meant I couldn’t go. I told Di that I planned to defer for a year to save up for my tuition. “Nonsense,” she said. “If you defer, you won’t go. And you have to go.” She frog marched me down to her bank, had them draw a cashier’s cheque for the tuition, then frog marched me over to the bursar’s office to pay for the first semester.
So, I went to grad school that year on Di’s dime, even as I was living at the loft on her dime. And so I feel that all my professional success has been on her dime too. Who does that for another person that you have known for one and a half years? These were the forms of generosity– big and small– that all those who knew her also knew they could count on. Thank you, Di, you made all the difference to my life.
Diana is perhaps the first person I came in contact with (other than my then boss) when joining the UN in 1999 as a legal consultant. She was already retired, if I recall, but was consulting and the legal division had a huge backlog of cases. I was entirely new not to the law but to the UN and its legal intricacies and systems – so different to national ones in many respects. What I remember most is Diana’s generosity and joie de vivre. She just unreservedly gave me all I needed to succeed in this first somewhat daunting job, in an office that was going through so much turmoil at the time.
She showed me the ropes; not only did she do her own work, she also spent time mentoring and training me. I only worked in that office for a year and then left to go on mission in the field. As it happened, we had good friends in common and I would have news every so often either directly or through them. I never went to The Loft or the Barn but heard so much about these intriguing places!.
Years later, jumping to 2010/2011, I was back in Headquarters in NY, this time in a much more senior legal role and lo and behold…one day, I find myself in court with Diana on the other side as my ‘opponent’ – except that there is no such antagonistic vocabulary when talking of Diana as a professional. There she was, still with the same vibrant passion, doing all she could to represent quite a difficult client, whose case was not without merit, but whose behaviour was a handful to handle. I was infused with the same principles as Diana by then, those that she had showed me and these were fairness, justice, appropriateness, sense of decorum in court etc…I was so happy to see her again in a case that lasted quite some time and ended up in a mediation agreement which we both worked towards as a team – to the judge’s pleasant surprise!
I have fond memories of these times, in 1999 and jumping forward to 2010/2011. We remained a lot more in touch thereafter and it helped that I was in NY until 2012 to do so. On the one hand, I am saddened by her passing but this is the fate that awaits all of us and we must accept it as she did, going in her sleep. On the other hand, I marvel at the stories I read about this exceptional lady and her unique destiny and life, a life of distinction.
It has been an honour to know you and work with you Diana. May you Rest in Peace.
Ubuntu (Zulu pronunciation: [ùɓúntʼù])[1] is a Nguni term meaning “humanity.” It is often translated as “I am because we are,” or “humanity towards others,” or in Xhosa, “umntu ngumntu ngabantu” but is often used in a more philosophical sense to mean “the belief in a universal bond of sharing that connects all humanity.”
I searched for the most direct means of defining who Diana Boernstein was, or at least how I perceived her. The single word I am able to come up with is ‘Ubuntu’
I met Diana in 1986. She offered me accommodation at her Greenwich village loft when I was a student at Hunter College. I had just arrived in New York City four months prior to that on a scholarship from South Africa. I stayed at her loft until 1990/91. I’m not sure about the exact dates. Considering how expensive rents are in New York City, I was virtually living at her loft rent free. She charged me an unbelievably low price.
Putting that aside; the most Ubuntu thing Diana did for me was when she rescued me from deep trouble I got into in 1994. I had a brush in with the law. An arrest and a criminal charge. Although it was for a misdemeanor, it was really serious stuff that felt like I had no ground to stand on. I had never been in such a predicament before that. It made me feel completely vulnerable. As things unfolded, I felt alone with no one to reach out to for help.
However; when I told Di about the trouble I was in, she did all she could to help me. She hired me the best lawyer. On top of that she paid for all the cost for the entire duration of the case. My case was remanded many times over a period of almost a year before it was finally dismissed. Meanwhile, throughout the duration of my court appearances, Di braved taking the subway to and from the Brooklyn Supreme Court house. She did that to come give me moral support. Other than her, I had no one else to do that for me.
I don’t know if any of you have an idea about the nature of the New York City subway environment. It is a threatening place and can feel hostile to someone that’s not used to it. There’s the loud clacking noise of metal as the trains zoom in and out of the train station. The graffiti that’s scrawled all over the surfaces, and the energetic bustling youths who wear baggy clothes and hoodies. Not to mention the smell and mugginess of the atmosphere, the litter and the rats, etc. I will never forget the discomfort Di used to express through her body language about riding the NYC subway trains when she came to give me moral support. On one of the days she came to court to stand by me, she told me that she didn’t like to ride the subway because of the dangers that are inherent in using that mode of transport. She said she put that aside because her concern was to see me acquitted. And certainly, after many appearances and postponements, my case was finally dismissed.
I know that she did what she did for me out of the kindness of her heart. She showed me compassion and never asked for anything in return. In South Africa we call that Ubuntu. That quality is rare amongst many people in the world we live in today. A lot of people nowadays think of themselves, and what’s best for them alone. Di was the antithesis of that. She was generous to many people.
I have many memories about her. The stories I can tell about Diana are endless. She made a huge difference to my life. It has been a blessing to know her.
Thank you Diana for showing me Ubuntu. May your soul rest in eternal peace.
💔
Rudzani
Ode to Diana
In the late ’70’s when the Hermans and Stephens families had moved to Washington, we were invited to a dinner at Quill and Janet’s house. Diana was there and I believe that Chris and Dorothy Dambe and possibly Quett were too. It was a very hot, sticky evening. We were all outside at tables on a balcony overlooking Reno Road. And Diana said in a very languid tone “I feel so sultry tonight”. For years, Janet and I laughed together about our memory of Diana that evening.