elizabeth grigg - the other fourth meal

People may have been wondering whose funeral I went to earlier this month. This was a family member by marriage, so she was my husband's dad's second wife. My husband's step-mom, although I don't think they lived together as such.

The funeral was structured in order to skip the tearful grandstanding that may or may not be common for italians. It is certainly common in general... hours of people going to the podium and describing the regrets and hopes, and of course all sanitized. Do not speak poorly of the dead. If you are lucky, you get a funny anecdote. As I was sitting there in the welcome absence of such a display, watching the slide show of this endearing and warm person I would never see again, I thought of what I would say if asked.

Reno Nevada describes itself as the biggest little city in the world. Nonnie, for me, was the most extraordinary ordinary person I have ever met. She taught me that life is hard enough without making it harder. That ambition can be realized in enjoying your own kids... taking care of yourself... and these things will "work" as ambitious goals more reliably and admirably than the classic goals of fame, fortune, and power. I am making fun of myself here, as I am susceptible to these cliche goals and cannot say it has made me any happier.

She taught me to enjoy the moment, indeed that it was OK to enjoy the moment. Because before I met her, I believed that one could not enjoy the moment unless one's ambitions were realized. Fully. Prizes handed out. Nonnie enjoyed more moments in this world than I ever will, because she has had such a headstart with her naturally sunny nature. A lot of things can be said about me, but sunny nature is not one of them. Meeting her, knowing her, it is obvious what an advantage that is.

Nonnie offered comfort to others wherever she went, and with every day that she lived. She gave generously with her time, such a rare commodity for the rest of us. She offered tunafish sandwiches and cans of pop on football sunday, as if, what else would you eat? She did not see the world of food in terms of its nutritional limits. She kept track of the shoe sizes of other people's kids, and their birthdays, and put these two pieces of information together at exactly the right time. She wrapped chicken in bacon and kept boxes of toys at the ready. When you were with her, she was simply and quite naturally yours. This comfort extended to herself. She wore tracksuits. She believed vacations should be fun, and houses should be private. She had a ridiculous aversion to recycling because it was too much trouble for her. She refused to utter aloud the correct term for a boy's pee-pee. She was generous to the world and to herself in these ways, heroic ways that those of us raised to sacrifice for the future cannot imagine.

Nonnie made a big deal out of playing dumb. She was quite good at it. It was a big act. Fooled more people than will admit it. Once, I saw her checking the mail. She was reading the junkmail out loud. Luigi's Restaurant, she would read. Grand Opening Special. "I never heard of this restaurant" she said. I just looked at her and couldn't suppress saying "Well, Nonnie, that's why they're sending you the postcard." She just looked at me, I was 8 months pregnant at the time. "Do you want me coming to help with your baby or not?" she joked. I felt privleged to be part of the group of people who knew she was not as dumb as she acted. It was actually a treat to be reprimanded.

When she finally succumbed to cancer, after having it the entire time I knew her, I thought this might be one more comfort that she claimed for herself. When her sister cried out as they slid her coffin in the vault, all I could think about was how protected she was now from the harsh winter wind, and what must have been constant crushing pain. She continued to teach me even that day. She taught: it is OK to choose another path, to not live your life like a constant climb up Mt. Everest, choosing yet one peak after another and not providing for yourself or others. Life is hard enough without asking for more pain. And good things will happen for you anyway, with family, the meals, and the people who love you around.

I will miss her teaching, the way she could rescue me off that mountain ridge, the way she set such a great example. I will miss the way she softened my husband's dad up, took the edge off his incessant work ethic, and brought us all together. I know I will do her memory some small bit of justice by getting off the treadmill and seeing the world as a comfortable and supportive place. That if I can learn to enjoy the moment, it will honor her memory the best.

Posted by Elizabeth Grigg at 05:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

On Saturday we did not wake up to the sound of gunshots, but perhaps one or two more blocks and we would have. I was probably already awake. I remember going regretfully to Safeway at 8, where I would be the only customer around amidst overhelpful overcheerful employees asking if I needed help. This was my biggest problem Saturday morning. I didn't need help, I needed a clue.

I think it is hardest for people in our position to talk ourselves down from a state of panic and grief surrounding the nonsensical killings. People who live farther away from the scene, can say well, they never go that way. Republican street, where the heck is that anyway. Only nutcases on that street. I think the same thing passing a car accident going the opposite way, for of course I would never go down this road THAT direction (I do). Then the plane crash in the foreign city, as if presence in that city is somehow asking for it. It makes no sense, but this distancing works and keeps us dumb but healthy. But for this tragedy, we cannot slip into that state. The house is across the street where I went to middle school. It is on the route to the nearest park if you are walking. I have carried screaming children past the house grateful that ours is so close. I have dragged bass clarinets scraping on the sidewalk as if someone would transport my parents home closer out of pity. The madness is very close, it's right here.

I don't read the paper or watch the TV news of any kind. So my brother had to call me to ask if I was OK. There was no action for me to take, other than become more clueful. We have not told the kids. I walked past the scene this morning. The large police paddywagon. The officers in the street talking. The yellow tape. I felt bad being a gawker too, and moved on as if this was my morning stroll. It might have been.

The thing even harder to take is the cultural distancing. Of course, it does not make sense for most people to host open parties in their home, and possibly the dark undertones of the social scene is an open invitation to the distancing. Instead of promising ourselves we don't ever drive on I5 THAT direction, we say we would never attend a rave, never attend a DJ event, never go to a home where everyone does not know everyone else after such an event. This is a cultural cop-out. The lunacy in the perpetrator was not his alone to bear. But the sorrow is all of ours.

I hope the news coverage will do their best. I cannot bear to watch right now.

Posted by Elizabeth Grigg at 08:15 PM | Permalink

Nevermind to my generation Y readers.

Don't be the last influential blogger on your block to make fun of this video. Like most of the early 90s, it is an easy target.

Warning: "... once you've seen it, you can't unsee it."

Word.

Posted by Elizabeth Grigg at 08:05 AM | Permalink

With taking on the name of Grigg, one trait that has grafted onto me is the practice of not communicating when there is bad news. No news is bad news, in other words.

Often we get asked "how do you do it." My dh takes it as a compliment. I take it as an important message from an objective outside observer that anyone observing what we are trying to do after 5 minutes chit chat at a funeral wake can see we are pushing the envelope to the potential detriment of our health and happiness.

Rather than going into all THAT, right now, I want to paraphrase a bit perhaps the only conversation my dh and I have had in months.

There is the question of craft, and where it should best be placed. My mom has the phrase "polishing a turd" and that is the attitude lots of practical people have who are short on time towards projects that are really not worth it. Say you have a project that is decidedly not going to change the world or alter your career. This is project A. What amount of creativity do you bring to bear on this project? Some people have the common sense that you should make the largest investment in project B, which is a project that might be your idea, or more promising, or makes more business sense.

However, in matters of craft, there is no such thing as polishing a turd. Rather, since creativity is generative (the more you use it, the more you have), it is to your advantage to find your voice even with something trivial. Reading Brian Eno's diary reveals this approach. On any given day he might be working on a low-budget low-impact art installation, then working on the U2 album. He brings the same materials, the same intensity to both. He values both the same. If you get to a juncture where you don't see where your voice can fit in, it means your focus is too broad. What you need to do then is magnify, "zoom in" as it were, in order to find the problem that is reactive to what you have to deliver.

Because when you have tiers of projects, and some are turds, you will go down the path of viewing your creativity as a fixed resource. That's self-fulfilling scarcity thinking.

My devil's argument to this is, what about the business side. What if, on Sunday, you are faced with the choice of doing either project A or B, but you cannot do both. Doesn't it make sense to choose the project that has the most business potential?

And I am not sure at this juncture I am describing, that this is not another form of scarcity thinking. Just stacked up, vertically. Happiness is keeping this creative thread going. Putting on the business hat, of picking and choosing, can put on some real blinders. Sometimes it does not add awareness but take away. For example, it is possible that the activity that will give you the greatest insight on whether to take project A or project B is to be in the zone, to work hard on one of them and see how it goes. Because the zone is more important than the business need.

This is still something I am working through. It is definitely true that when I start weighing the business needs of the various choices I have, that I lose perspective. When I work hard on following through with one specific project, when I zoom in and magnify the problem so my creativity is in play, I get clearer vision into everything. It doesn't make sense but there it is.

Last, I want to mention that we still have a babysitter for next Thursday, March 16, where we will be on the Chris and Ponzi show talking not about games and technology and digital lifestyles but about the house remodel, the dotcom crash, the whole freakin thing. My dh has promised to do the voices. I will get a super nice bottle of wine to get him going. It's our best material. Be there.

Posted by Elizabeth Grigg at 06:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)