not so grounded

Giving Thanks for Unbounded Peace

Sweet potato casserole (part with marshmallows, part without), creamed corn, green beans almandine, apple crisp ... Debbie's made the turkey, Laurie some mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie ... grateful for family and friends both forever here and momentarily gone.  Wishing all unbounded peace this Thanksgiving day and beyond.

Eleanor Supin

My father officiated my Nanny's (his Mother) funeral last week with such elegance and beauty., extemporaneously from his heart.  Many others also spoke lovingly.  I wrote my words down, of course ('cause I can't think otherwise) so here they are:

Well, this has been a wild week, couple of months in a way, something we all theoretically knew would happen but never quite imagined that it actually would.  We used to joke that Poppop was like Lazarus, breathing life over and over into moments we thought would be his last.  But, really it was Nanny we secretly knew would live forever.  

So I must admit, I am sort of bewildered to be here.  Yet comforted, too, knowing she passed from this life exactly as she wanted.  Peacefully, quickly, after 95 lovely years, without much drama or fuss.  And leaving us blissfully with a mountain of memories.  

For me it’s 50 years full of random moments.  Walking through their huge garden and apple orchards at the farm.  Swimming at the gorge.   The first time she played baseball with us and didn’t know to drop the bat so she’s gripping that bat with all her might as she runs the bases, all us grandkids screeching with laughter. 

Nanny loved to laugh, a push-over really, even laughing at my ridiculous stories that weren’t intentionally funny.  I’d tell her about life’s absurdities mostly, work woes or travel mishaps, and more than once we swapped foibles about men since my divorce and her widowed-years overlapped.  Nanny loved attention, just any of us sitting with her and sharing stories or gossip or funny little things.  And while I know I didn’t shower her with enough or as much as many of you in this chapel, I cherish each moment.

Oh, she could be inflexible, too.  Stubborn about things that drove us nuts.  It’s true, she used to flat-out lock us kids out of her farmhouse when we got too rambunctious.  And I swear I shucked more peas than I thought humanely possible.  Every single time I sneezed – from infancy right on up through age 49 -- I got her evil eye warning me with swift retribution if I dared get her sick.  And every one of us often wished she would occasionally – maybe on Thanksgiving or Christmas perhaps? -- eat her main meal at a more convenient time than exact noon.    

But I realize now that her stubborn insistence about certain things was also her greatest strength.  For she built this family, almost from scratch.  We are a small bunch, strewn all over the country these days.  But we are exceptionally close, full of love, every one of us delightful, interesting and good.  And that was Nanny’s doing. 

She came from a different family, close but also fraught with dysfunction and alcoholism.  Her parents divorced early and abandoned their only child to be raised by her grandmother and collection of childless aunts and uncles in a large Brooklyn brownstone.  She was loved, to be sure, but there was also Stuff she had to endure.  

We have heard these stories, of course.  And, frankly, we witnessed a handful of strong neuroses she carried as a result.  But we, her progeny, never lived these stories or these neuroses ourselves, precisely because of her.  Many families just repeat the same mess, generation after generation.  But not ours.  At age 15 my grandmother said enough.  She left home, married a good, loving man and they stayed happily together nearly 70 years.  She raised her two children with the stability and consistency she never got.  She flat out stopped the heredity of alcoholism, absolutely determined that none of us ever endure that craziness.  When us grandkids were born, she and Poppop bought that big rambling farm and we spent 15 years playing in their fields.  She attended almost every single baptism, graduation, wedding, and family holiday.  And she loved us fiercely – all of us - her two children, her five grandchildren, and her passel of great grandchildren -- always, unconditionally, without a moment’s waiver.  

We are her legacy and looking around this room I’m guessing she’s very very proud.  We are all – every one of us – kind, loving, interesting, and creative, and we each offer lovely contributions to this world.    We will hold Nanny’s memories for a very long time.  They are so many, so varied, so rich, so intricately woven into my life that I’m certain she will pop up often in my images and conversations.  

But I will hold her legacy most dear.  She created this, she created us, a family who gathers together for all reasons, good and bad.  Who cries together or yells at each other sometimes, but mostly a family that laughs together, plays together, and champions each other.  And loves each other without fail and with unlimited grace.   

I am so grateful for her gift.  And in her honor I will do my best to carry her legacy forward.   

Eleanor Wisdom Supin

My grandmother died this morning.  Two weeks shy of her 96th birthday, born August 14, 1914.  Spry, feisty, an adorable short little woman we loved dearly.  Healthy, engaging all her life. Mostly I remember laughing with her.  All the time.  Even during our last phone conversation.

She was matriarch over a tiny family -- 25 total (cousins & all), spanning four generations, and exceptionally close. So she will be intensely missed, reverently honored.  I feel blessed to have known her so intimately for so long, grateful she had only a few precipitating hospital days, dying peacefully in her sleep.

She's resting well, I'm sure. 

 

Communal Love

During our very first phone call, John jokingly asked if I was scared that he had an 8-year old son.  I laughed, long-known as a kid-mecca.  And figured I'd wait 'till our first date before divulging that his sweet little boy had nothing on the entourage then living at my house. 

I wasn't intentional about communal living, but an ever-increasing flow shared Maddy's and my roof over the years.  Mike was first.  I invited him to park himself, his dozen thrift store button-downs and 17-million over-worn backpacks in the guest room after his college graduation.  Just for the summer, he insisted.  But he kept us laughing and helped with carpool another two years. Mike had moved west by John's and my blind date, but Maddy's & my newer roomies included my nephew, friends Teresa & Charles, and out-of-town acupuncture students who regularly crashed on all available mattresses (and always brought great wine).  

I gave Maddy an on-demand, tankless hot water heater for her 13th birthday.  Best gift ever.

It's not easy living with a collection of folks who become family by default.  But it's not hard, either, especially once I accepted all offers to help around the house, abandoned my own persnickety routines, and realized modesty is totally overrated.  Mostly it's really fun, a happy busy house full of people coming & going, all better cooks than I. 

Lately we're down to our nuclear four, which offers its own sweetness and adequate noise when blissfully overrun with Alden's friends.  But Teresa & Charles were just visiting, and we tumbled effortlessly into comfortable family routines.  We came & went, and each evening we sat around the tiny kitchen table, eating hummus and cucumbers or rich dark chocolate or margaritas on the rocks ... catching up on the day.  Charles soon retired to the cable channels, John and the kids played cards, Teresa and I cleaned out cupboards.  Last night Teresa gave me an utterly euphoric acupuncture session, and I hope I made her laugh enough to ease some accumulated stress.

They just left and I miss them already.  I'll survive (and we'll certainly be hanging at their house when they move to Lake Chapala) but I love having our big ol' extended family close. 

The Most Perfect Day Ever

Awoke early for a glorious long canter (Elise does not walk ...) across More Mesa bluff and then down along the Pacific.  Magnificent gray swells and kelp, seals lounging on jagged rocks, timeless fog against eroded cliffs, warm sweatshirt against the cold.  We met another friend, 5 dogs between us, and glided through wide empty swaths of low-tide beach. 

Returned to prepare for the workday, suddenly stopped heavy by an overdose of global overwhelm,  confusion on top.  Dusted with a little frustration, or maybe that's sadness?  Probably woven with fear.  Not a specific person, thing, circumstance, client, or item in the news  But every organization I work with, everything I observe, so much that I encounter ... folks are burning to a crisp.  Somber and weighty. 

I know I'm supposed to help my clients accomplish measurable business objectives, but, quite honestly, I'd rather wrap them snug in star-kissed silk, serve them warm chocolate chip cookies, and tease out something worth a belly laugh.

I cleared my head with a hot shower, stepped onto the back deck just as the sun appeared in full, and took a deep breath.

What if we all got out in the sun?  Stepped away from the responsibilities, to-do lists, and frustrations that prop up illusions we don't even like?  I know how to shift my vibration - a moment of gratitude for sand between my toes, my closest friend in the next room, the scent of fresh eucalyptus, laughing for no reason ... I'm so there.  

I just want everyone there.  I want everyone to awake every morning knowing this will be the most perfect day ever, the 6+ billion different ways that might be defined. 

Is that too much to ask?

First Round Apps Done

Completed, submitted, paid for .... Colorado College, Muhlenberg College, Appalacian State, UNC-Asheville, and Americorps CCC in case come June Maddy prefers to jump into a gap year.  She'll probably add a few more in the next few weeks (Western WA, U of Oregon & Utah, Bard are up there right now).  But I'm impressed - she ploughed through.  And we learned Common App uploads have to be in Times New Roman ...

Now it's on to financial aid forms.

And I'm feeling way better.  Combo of EFT, Reiki, Friday night sob, Saturday yoga class & long nap cleared out the vibes that had caused me to drown in open air.  Wild animals will shake, shudder, and roughhouse after a pointed confrontation or stress.  Releases the energies.  My unusual deep sleep in the afternoon sun felt just the same. 

I'll see Lindsey again in 12 days -- that helps, too.