David Sepulveda Photo
Maya, Margi and Elina Rosenthal “front porching.”
A slow-moving parade of cars made its way down West Rock Avenue as gleeful shouts of “We Love you Margi!” were punctuated with handmade placards, balloons and sounds of celebration.
This was no ordinary procession. And “Margi” was no ordinary person.
The parade unfolded four weeks ago on a picturesque fall Sunday morning before the front-porch reviewing stand of Dr. Marjorie Rosenthal, or “Margi” as she was known to friends and neighbors, as she sat with her two teenaged daughters, Maya and Elina.
It was a chance to say good-bye.
The beloved New Haven community pediatrician and child and family advocate had been living with colon cancer for seven years. Now she had stopped treatment, signaling painful news to all who were aware of her situation. She would continue to be at home but under hospice care, surrounded by family and a steady stream of Covid-mindful friends negotiating the remaining, bitter-sweet hours of everything hospice implies.
Next-door neighbor Alice Rosenthal, who helped organize the parade, explained the impact that Margi has had on the medical community and citizens of Greater New Haven, and why so many turned out to honor her.
Margi passed on Dec. 1. A Zoom celebration two days later welcomed more than 500 visitors as many waited a turn to enter; family and friends from all periods of her life presented photos, shared stories and special moments that highlighted Margi’s sense of humor, commitment to the meaning of friendship, family, and community.
Some stories drew laughter as old friends recalled a few mischievous, rite-of-passage adventures over which friends had bonded and lasting memories created.
Margot Kushel, a longtime friend of Margi, recounted her philosopy of “front-porching”: “Margi thought it was a verb. It was her belief that everyone should live their lives closer to the sidewalk.”
A day before the Nov. 8 “We Love Margi” parade of cars. Margi could be seen sitting by the tree belt outside her home with friends as they sat to enjoy a porch-side solo concert by Tim Kane. A neighborhood friend, trumpet player and soul-soother, Kane has often used his therapeutic melodies to lift spirits and encourage healing and celebration throughout the community.
On this day, Kane’s notes had a special resonance as he sat under three Halloween ghost decorations gently fluttering above the porch. His audience sat yards away — on the sidewalk.
Soulful notes that pierced the autumn air soon gave way to a spontaneous, celebratory shift when this neighbor delivered a Public Service Announcement: Joe Biden’s bid to become the 46th president of the United States (not withstanding the legal machinations and challenges that would follow) had finally succeeded (with Pennsylvania and its crucial electoral votes called for the Democrat).
Kane immediately launched into a spirited rendition of “Hail to the Chief.” Margi, even in her frail state, rose to dance and celebrate the historic moment.
Though Margi would never have been one to boast about her achievements, she was nevertheless flush with an array of awards that demonstrated the recognition and respect she had earned from the medical community. A Yale School of Medicine profile entitled “100 years of Women at YSM” noted Margi’s exemplary record of service: ‘Dr. Rosenthal is being recognized for her tireless commitment to community engagement and community-based participatory research at Yale and in New Haven. As a co-director of Yale’s National Clinician Scholars Program, Dr. Rosenthal has served as an exceptional mentor to countless postgraduate learners in research who have worked toward advancing health equity in the region. Her humanism, empathy, and infectious enthusiasm are widely appreciated. She is the recent recipient of both teaching and humanism awards from the School of Medicine.”
On Margi’s Facebook home page, a long list of friends, colleagues and former students weighed in on her importance to their lives and to the community at large. Neonatologist and friend Emily Gritz, who had trained under Margi at Yale, expressed the impact of her tutelage: “What Margi did see, and what I learned to see through her gentle, persistent coaching over my 3 years with her was the beautiful and often messy complexity of the child-family-community unit and how it affects the health and well-being of all who are part of it. And something began to change in me.”
Another friend, Josh David, provided a description of Margi that was echoed by many on Facebook and elsewhere: “Kindness meets fierce intelligence, integrity, dignity, and grace …”
Margi’s generosity as a teacher continued throughout her long journey as a cancer patient, often through her poignant essays and articles, some of which appeared in The New York Times. In her essay, “How to Give Bad News,” Margi wrote about her advancing cancer, taking the reader with her through the most private of moments as she interpreted both spoken and unspoken cues as her doctor delivered the news.
During the packed Zoom celebration of Margi’s life, Margi’s significant other, Brian McCabe, introduced himself as “The one who refused the offer to break up.” McCabe was refering to the powerful love story Margi had penned for a Modern Love column in the New York times entitled, “You Should Break Up With Me.”
The article, like others before it, demonstrated Margi’s brilliance as a storyteller, blending tragic elements with hopeful ones. She had proffered the idea of a break up given her worsening condition. “Brian,” she wrote, “taught me that love is a long elliptical story.”
The Zoom celebration presented a tapestry of Margi’s life woven together by immediate family, camping chums, college roommates, professional colleagues, and a long list of friends. Margi’s two daughters, whom she always referred to as the “princesses of the second floor,” had the last words. “After Covid,” they said, “we want to have a memorial gathering because mom always said that funerals were for the living, and so we want to celebrate our mom’s life with everyone she (and we) loved — in person.”
I didn't know Margi personally but have been fortunate to live as her neighbor, to exchange a smile at the library, or outside walking, to see and hear how she touched the lives of so many, and to read her eloquent words. She wrote with such generous honesty and openness that I can't help but feel that I knew her and am experiencing just a fraction of the tremendous grief of those who knew her well. May her loved ones find solace in the days ahead.