My Irish “Grandma Wilson” was not even a blood relative. She was an older, trusted friend of my mother long before I was born. Mind you, I couldn’t tell you what I did yesterday, or even remember my telephone number (I never call myself, for heaven’s sake!) but I vividly remember her house, her smile, and especially how she doted on me. I always felt special in her presence, “all grown up”, respected.
Grandma was larger than life to me, the “Queen of Idioms”, quick to laugh (even at herself). She was the most patient, loving, and forgiving person I’ve ever known. She could smell “a phony baloney” (a less than truthful person) at least a mile away, but was diligently parse rendering harsh judgment before getting the facts and putting things into perspective. She wasn’t perfect, of course, but she wasn’t vindictive either, and oh, how I adored her!
Her real charm was her rather strange quirks and strong Irish brogue as she readily expressed her opinions about that which did not sit well with her world.
“There ought to be a law that keeps idjits off the street” she would mumble, just loud enough for me to hear. As far as I could tell, people who didn’t discipline their unruly children in public, or dress appropriately for Church, or show good manners when they consume food should stay indoors and out of sight of the rest of the God-fearing, law-abiding, intelligent folk! It took years for me to get over the fear of knocking on a stranger’s door, knowing that some idjit Grandma banished long ago was going to pop out and hold me responsible–guilt by association!
Grandma Wilson was a character, but rarely got her Irish up for no good reason at all. She did not mince her words when she felt it was necessary, to be sure. General incompetence drove her crazy. Sales clerks that didn’t know the inventory of their own store were “incompetent idjits”. People who didn’t save what they could for a rainy day were “daft idjits”. Those that lived extravagantly were “high and mighty idjits”. Politicians and law-makers that created nonsensical regulations were just straight out “bastards”!
“Saints preserve us, how can we choose a man to run an entire country when he doesn’t bother to use the good common sense the Lord gave him? Why, for all the money spent on a campaign to make his arse smell like toilet water (perfume) just to get elected, a man could feed the entire nation!” Grandma had a difficult time suffering fools gladly.
Every minute with Grandma was a wonderful “teachable moment”! She may not have been university educated, but she was far from stupid or unworldly. “All you need to know about people has been in these three good books— The Bible, Reader’s Digest and National Geographic!”. She taught me to read and love words at the tender age of three by discussing the stories with me as if I had a valued opinion on the topic. She also helped me to understand that events happen, not by chance but by choice (“its all cut and dry”). In her experience, the simplest explanation came closer to the truth. Life is not as difficult as we often make it out to be. People are not as difficult to understand as we claim they are.
Grandma taught me to never to accept any kind of social dissonance on face value, to be as flexible as possible with my judgments (“…lest you, yourself be judged, Love.”), and to always keep things in perspective. Decisions made in haste rarely pan out, and first impressions are but an excuse to dig deeper, she reckoned. Grandma believed that when the facts pile up one way or another, the larger pile of truths is the obvious conclusion–even despite long-held opinions that no longer “hold water”.
I learned later that Grandma was a true human rights advocate born from experience. The one thing that really “raised her hackles” was out-right bigotry. She had little patience for people who purposely hurt and demeaned others just because they were different or held conflicting beliefs. To her, the most egregious sin that could be committed against God was prejudice or intolerance toward the marginalized in our society.
The neighborhood in which I grew up was a “Heinz variety” of diversity where true immigrants and first generation Americans of all kinds lived amicably without any line of demarcation. It wasn’t until later in life that I got my first introduction to real racism and bigotry (not the “PC” rhetoric we throw around today). By then, although Grandma had died decades before and I scarcely thought about her at all, I had already learned that despite the color of my skin or sexual proclivity, I was no better or worse than any other human being.
“No matter who we are or how much we have in the pantry, we are our brother’s keepers” she would tell me. “We all have a purpose in life. The Almighty put us here to do something good. We do no service to anyone, least of all Him, by setting the example that we are better than any of His other children.” I admit that I didn’t always understand what Grandma meant then but I do now.
In 1970, a Greek poet named Dinos Christianopoulos penned a prophetic quote “what didn’t you do to bury me but you forgot that I was a seed”, which later became a counterculture battle cry of sorts. The literary powers in Greece clearly diminished his provocative writings because Christianopoulos was a homosexual. However, in 1977 he wrote what could be considered a resistance poem titled “Against”, an angry and declarative dialogue against marginalization and all forms of self and public aggrandizement.
In the midst of the continued harsh criticism of his work, in January of 2012 Christianopoulos was “surprisingly” awarded Greece’s Grand Literary Prize (which he, not surprisingly, declined). Christianopoulos refused to accept the prestigious award referring officials back to “Against” for the explanation:
“I am against any sort of honouring distinctions wherever they may come from…I am against awards because they diminish human dignity. To award someone means that I recognize the value of someone who is otherwise below me—and at some point we must finally get rid of the condescension of the Greats. To accept an award implies acknowledging intellectual masters—and at some point we must throw out the masters from our lives.” Excerpt from “Against”, 1977, Dinos Christianopoulos, WordPress.com
Bigotry and prejudice is taught and passed down from generation to generation in the same way that tolerance is also best learned from the beginning. When we marginalize or elevate specific individuals for their differences, to praise or denigrate, we run the risk of diminishing human dignity on both ends of the spectrum. Fostering an atmosphere of tolerance doesn’t mean tolerating or accepting “bad” or incompetent behavior, however. Each person has an obligation to speak out against cruelty and injustice, offering constructive criticism (and compassion) as warranted.
(Grandma also included “instructing the idjits” as part of our responsibility to humanity (“opinions…it’s what sets us apart from the beasts”)).
Above all else, Grandma’s greatest gift to me was unconditional love and acceptance with the clear mandate that love and respect was meant to be shared. Because of her admonitions, I credit my long career in public service to her discipleship and respect toward others. It was just common sense to me then and even more so now. We are all precious in the eyes of the Almighty. God doesn’t make mistakes.
Perhaps Grandma didn’t realize at the time that she too, had “planted a seed” in me, not to build a legacy of accomplishments for others to “award” me or exalt me higher above another, but simply because I am mandated to be “my brother’s keeper”. It is the right thing to do.
Common sense, right?