Today would have been Grandma's 96th birthday. Instead, she died at quantized age 95 on June 29, 2024. She had her loved ones around her when she exhaled her final breath.
I felt lucky to see Grandma sharp and funny until well into her 90s. On her 90th birthday celebration in an American Legion building in the great north, Grandma spent more time on the dance floor than her own children and grandchildren, never breaking a sweat. On one of my final visits to her home in assisted living, she told my partner with full conviction and clarity, "If he's ever a shit to you, you tell him to, 'Hit the road, Jack!'" In many ways, she reminded me of one of my favorite authors, Brenda Ueland, and vice versa. In the foreword for the Gray Wolf Press release of Ueland's book If You Want to Write, author Andrei Codrescu wrote the following of Ueland:
Simply by living to a very old age with vividness, courage, and no loss of either wits of chutzpah, Brenda Ueland is no mere mortal.
I like to think the same of Grandma.
I was too timid to say anything at Grandpa's funeral(s) in 2014 and 2015, though I did play trumpet with heavy vibrato (involuntary from sadness) at one service. I was too distraught to say anything at my own father's funeral. Well, just like Brenda Ueland taught me how to (really) write, Grandma taught me how to (really) read, and to honor that gift of the written word, I was not going to be a coward again for her funeral service. I wrote and spoke the following words at her funeral service in early July of this year. In this transcription, I performed minor edits to line breaks and to my name (it's Arthur to you, reader). These words are very specific to my life with her, but I hope they remind you of a delightful and/or boisterous family member or mentor who made a big impression on you. Or, as Brenda Ueland would say, I hope you find them microscopically truthful.
My grandma taught me how to adventure.
Around age 4 she pulled me away
from some idle play
with action figures to say,
"Arthur. You are going to learn to read!"She sat me down with a book
and pulled word after word
out of my developing brain and stumbling voice.Able to read, I ventured from town to town,
country to country, planet to planet!
all from the comfort of an armchair.Able to read, I pursued the poems
she shared with me
to help map out the wilds of my inner self."Never let anyone mess with your swing!"
read a baseball-themed poem from the book
101 Poems that Could Save Your Life.I do wonder how much she worried about me when she gave me that book!
Poems she wrote and collected
rang clearly like a bell
at every syllable.With every book I pulled from her shelf
I felt a little braver being myself.And that's what I think my grandma really was:
a teacher of courage.Anyone who knew her fiery spirit
felt warmer and more like themselves around her.Around age 12 she pulled me away
from some idle play
with video games to say,
"Arthur. You are going on a hike with me!"And suddenly, the forests I explored
were no longer green pixels,
but living, shaking, breathing things
to touch and smell.Her tenacity pulled her way ahead of me
but I soon learned to walk briskly and daily
like she did
for as long as she possibly could.And so my definition of a "long walk"
increased from down the street
to a mile
to five miles
to fifteen miles!Walking with Grandma convinced me that
no journey was ever too long,
it was just another step forward.And so I will carry my grandma with me
in every word I speak and every step I walk.
I invite you all to carry her with you as well.