Sunday, October 22, 2017

It was a ranch and there were no balconies

When my Gigi bought her home just after the war, the lots near the ocean and the tree heavy lots inland were about the same price.  She wanted trees.  This was something of a family joke because the ocean lots, as you can imagine, fetch several decimal places more today.

(She also briefly owned a Duesenberg.  Yet another lost inheritance.)

I had a dream my dad decided to keep and restore Gigi's home.  Except now a bedroom balcony overlooked deep water and in my dream I sat near her and watched orcas and sharks and dolphins swim below.  I could hear my kids running thru the house.  It was beautiful and I was at peace. 

A month or so ago Matt was in Los Angeles and drove by Gigi's.  The new owners have turned my grandmother's classy Cape Cod into... a garage.
(Apologies for the jigsaw - Matt had actually taken a video and my photo editing skills are, um, lacking.)


They also posted pictures online of a new surgical center where Gigi used to craft her meals.

At the end of my dream a massive wave crashed over the balcony.  Change is hard.

Monday, August 22, 2016

A Smaller World

I lost a friend last Friday.  Alison Piepmeier was larger than life, a passionate and eloquent advocate for her daughter, Maybelle, and for equality in all things.  We met online, back when I was still writing, and then in person at my first NDSC convention in Washington DC in 2012.
2012 NDSC Convention
She missed the next few conventions for various reasons but I always assumed we'd meet up again at the next one.  But then her tumor came back.   I had planned to go help out for a weekend but the dates were moved and moved again and then there was no more time.   So in the middle of July, a week before my 5th NDSC convention, I manufactured a trip to Charleston and was able to spend an hour or so with her in the morning.  And then another hour in the afternoon.   She was weak, she occasionally fumbled, trying to find the right words, but was as insightful and vibrant as always.
Charleston, 7/11/16
I, however, couldn't find any words.  No profound, comforting thoughts about her looming death, or leaving her daughter nigh orphaned.  Nothing about what her friendship had meant to me.  I hugged her and told her I loved her and left flowers.  I hope that just showing up counted, a little.  I suspect my visit was more for my benefit that hers.  I worry it was intrusive - two plus precious hours lost to random online friend - but am profoundly grateful her mother let me have that time.


Even more so now that I couldn't attend her memorial on Friday.   At least I got to say goodbye in person.

Alison had this gift of making you feel like the most important person in the room.  She was warm and enthusiastic about everything from a FB snapshot to long rambling post.  You can see in the hundreds of comments and eulogies that she made everyone feel just as special and I know I am but one of hundreds who loved and will mourn her.  I am, by contrast, a tetchy introvert but her loss is that much more profound to my small world.  I hope I can show up for my other people with half as much gusto as she did.
Alison Piepmeier
12/11/72 - 8/12/16