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In Memoriam: Hilda Banks Shapiro

Folks can either be too selfish, too self-concerned to weave folks together, or so generous that they do it automatically. Hilda was the latter, and she left laughter and good cheer in her wake.

To the editor:

I loved Hilda Banks Shapiro. I will miss her. I will miss her red high-top sneakers and her voracious appetite. I will miss her soaring talent at the piano. I will miss that she made community wherever she went. You know how? Folks can either be too selfish, too self-concerned to weave folks together, or so generous that they do it automatically. Hilda was the latter, and she left laughter and good cheer in her wake. When I was president of Thursday Morning Club, Hilda asked to be my chaplain—the woman who opens the meeting with inspirational words. Hilda died at 95, and this was just a couple of years ago, so some folks had doubts. True, I got her back-up, but I believed in her. At one meeting she read the following poem, and everyone should read it too. So here it is from Hilda to all of us with love:

People are often unreasonable, illogical and self-centered;
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;
Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;
Be honest and frank anyway.
What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway.
If you find happiness, they may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;
Give the world the best you have anyway.
You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your conscience;
It was never between you and them anyway.

There is a wish: May your memory be a blessing. Hilda’s memory is a blessing. Rest in peace old friend.

Carole Owens

Stockbridge

Editor’s Note: To clear up any misunderstanding, Owens wrote that, as Chaplain of Thursday Morning Club, Hilda Banks Shapiro READ the poem “Anyway.” Shapiro shared it; she did not write it. “Anyway” was written by Kent M. Keith. It is often misattributed to Mother Theresa — as many good things are — because it hung on her wall.

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