{"id":174,"date":"2015-03-28T13:21:15","date_gmt":"2015-03-28T20:21:15","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.tidbitsandtantrums.com\/?p=174"},"modified":"2015-03-28T13:21:15","modified_gmt":"2015-03-28T20:21:15","slug":"grandma-knows-best","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.tidbitsandtantrums.com\/?p=174","title":{"rendered":"Grandma Knows Best"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Human\"My Irish \u201cGrandma Wilson\u201d was not even a blood relative. She was an older, trusted friend of my mother long before I was born.\u00a0Mind you,\u00a0I couldn\u2019t tell you what I did yesterday, or even remember my telephone number (I never call myself, for heaven’s sake!) but\u00a0I vividly remember her house, her smile, and especially how she doted on me. \u00a0I always felt special in her presence, \u201call grown up\u201d, respected<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Grandma was larger than life to me, the \u201cQueen of Idioms\u201d, quick to laugh (even at herself). \u00a0She was the most patient, loving, and forgiving person I\u2019ve ever known.\u00a0 She could smell \u201ca phony baloney\u201d (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.\u00a0 She wasn\u2019t perfect, of course, but she wasn\u2019t vindictive either, and oh, how I adored her<\/em>!<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere ought to be a law that keeps idjits off the street\u201d <\/em>she would mumble, just loud enough for me to hear. As far as I could tell, people who didn\u2019t 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! \u00a0\u00a0It took years for me to get over the fear of knocking on a stranger\u2019s door, knowing that some idjit<\/em> Grandma banished long ago was going to pop out and hold me<\/em> responsible–guilt by association!<\/p>\n

Grandma Wilson was a character, but rarely got her Irish up for no good reason at all.\u00a0 She did not mince her words when she felt it was necessary, to be sure.\u00a0 General incompetence drove her crazy. \u00a0Sales clerks that didn\u2019t know the inventory of their own store were \u201cincompetent idjits\u201d.\u00a0 People who didn\u2019t save what they could for a rainy day were \u201cdaft idjits\u201d.\u00a0 Those that lived extravagantly were \u201chigh and mighty idjits\u201d.\u00a0 Politicians and law-makers that created nonsensical regulations were just straight out \u201cbastards\u201d!<\/p>\n

\u201cSaints preserve us, how can we choose a man to run an entire country when he doesn\u2019t 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!<\/em>\u201d Grandma had a difficult time suffering fools gladly.<\/p>\n

Every minute with Grandma was a wonderful \u00a0“teachable moment”!\u00a0 She may not have been university educated, but she was far from stupid or unworldly.\u00a0\u00a0“All you need to know about people\u00a0has been\u00a0in these three good books— The Bible, Reader’s Digest and National Geographic<\/em>!”.\u00a0 She taught me to read and love words at the tender age of three\u00a0by discussing the stories with me as if I had a valued opinion on the topic.\u00a0She also helped me to understand that events happen, not by chance but by choice (\u201cits all cut and dry\u201d).\u00a0 In her experience, the simplest explanation came closer to the truth.\u00a0Life is not as difficult as we often make it out to be.\u00a0 People are not as difficult to understand as we claim they are.<\/p>\n

Grandma\u00a0taught me to never to accept any kind of social dissonance on face value, to be as flexible as possible with my judgments (\u201c…lest you, yourself be judged<\/em>, Love.<\/em>\u201d), 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.\u00a0 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 \u201chold water\u201d.<\/p>\n

I learned later that Grandma was a true human rights advocate born from experience. The one thing that really<\/em> \u201craised her hackles\u201d was out-right bigotry<\/em>.\u00a0 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.<\/p>\n

The neighborhood in which I grew up was a \u201cHeinz variety\u201d of diversity where true immigrants and first generation Americans of all kinds lived amicably without any line of demarcation. It wasn\u2019t until later in life that I got my first introduction to real racism and bigotry (not the “PC” rhetoric we throw around today).\u00a0 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.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo matter who we are or how much we have in the pantry, we are our brother\u2019s keepers\u201d she would tell me.\u00a0 \u201cWe all have a purpose in life. The Almighty put us here to do something good.\u00a0 We do no service to anyone, least of all Him, by setting the example that we are better than any of His other children.\u201d\u00a0 I admit that I didn\u2019t always understand what Grandma meant then but I do now.<\/p>\n

In 1970, a Greek poet named Dinos Christianopoulos penned a prophetic quote \u201cwhat didn\u2019t you do to bury me but you forgot that I was a seed\u201d, which later became a counterculture battle cry of sorts.\u00a0 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<\/em> titled \u201cAgainst\u201d, an angry and declarative dialogue against marginalization and all forms of self and public aggrandizement.<\/p>\n

In the midst of the continued harsh criticism of his work, in January of 2012 Christianopoulos was \u201csurprisingly\u201d awarded Greece\u2019s Grand Literary Prize (which he, not surprisingly, declined).\u00a0 Christianopoulos refused to accept the prestigious award referring officials back to \u201cAgainst\u201d for the explanation:<\/p>\n

\u201cI am against any sort of honouring distinctions wherever they may come from\u2026I am against awards because they diminish human dignity.\u00a0 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.\u00a0 To accept an award implies acknowledging intellectual masters—and at some point we must throw out the masters from our lives<\/em>.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0 Excerpt from \u201cAgainst\u201d, 1977, Dinos Christianopoulos, WordPress.com<\/p>\n

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.\u00a0 When we marginalize or elevate specific individuals for their differences, to praise or denigrate<\/em>, we run the risk of diminishing human dignity on both ends of the spectrum.\u00a0\u00a0Fostering an atmosphere of tolerance doesn\u2019t mean tolerating or accepting \u201cbad\u201d or incompetent behavior, however. Each person has an obligation to speak out against cruelty and injustice, offering constructive criticism (and compassion) as warranted.<\/p>\n

(Grandma also included \u201cinstructing the idjits<\/em>\u201d as part of our responsibility to humanity (\u201copinions<\/em>…it\u2019s what sets us apart from the beasts<\/em>\u201d)).<\/p>\n

Above all else, Grandma\u2019s greatest gift to me was unconditional love and acceptance<\/em> with the clear mandate that love and respect was meant to be shared. \u00a0Because of her admonitions, I credit my long career in public service to her discipleship and\u00a0respect toward others.\u00a0 It was just common sense to me then and even more so now. We are all\u00a0precious in the eyes of the Almighty. God doesn’t make mistakes.<\/p>\n

Perhaps\u00a0Grandma didn\u2019t realize at the time that she too, had \u201cplanted 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\u00a0mandated to be\u00a0“my brother’s keeper”.\u00a0\u00a0It is the right thing to do.<\/p>\n

Common sense, right?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My Irish \u201cGrandma Wilson\u201d was not even a blood relative. She was an older, trusted friend of my mother long before I was born.\u00a0Mind you,\u00a0I couldn\u2019t tell you what I did yesterday, or even remember my telephone number (I never…
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