johnnynotsid

Rolling Stone magazine is known for being one of the most famous music/pop culture magazines on the planet. They often have very good political articles. They have been around for about a gazillion years and have featured all the biggest musicians on the cover. They're consider a major, important publication.

They have also been quickly losing their credibility over the last few years.

See, Rolling Stone is known for their covers. They used to make some amazing people their main feature. They used to do covers like these:



and this:




and this:





Now, over the last year, they have featured covers like this:




and THIS:



And most recently, this:



Sorry, but that's really pathetic.

Not that rolling stone has not had some lame covers before this, not that they've had no decent covers over the past year (the last Obama one WAS pretty killer). But this many epic fuck ups in such a short amount of time.

Rolling Stone has become a pretentious Tiger Beat.

Well, we're big rock singers
We got golden fingers
And we're loved everywhere we go..... (that sounds like us)
We sing about beauty and we sing about truth
At ten-thousand dollars a show..... (right)
We take all kinds of pills that give us all kind of thrills
But the thrill we've never known
Is the thrill that'll gitcha when you get your picture
On the cover of the rollin stone

Pro-Feminism.

I've come by this phrase before, not really knowing what it means, figuring it was just something some people refer to themselves as when asked if they are supportive of Feminism these days. "Oh, I'm pro-Feminism."

It's not, apparently.

From Wikipedia:

The term is most often used in reference to men who are actively supportive of feminism and of efforts to bring about gender equality. A number of pro-feminist men are involved in political activism, most often in the areas of women's rights and violence against women. As feminist theory found support among a number of men who formed consciousness-raising groups in the 1960s, these groups were differentiated by preferences for particular feminisms and political approaches. However, the inclusion of men's voices as "feminists" presented issues for some. For a number of women and men, the word "feminism" was reserved for women, the subjects who experienced the inequality and oppression that feminism sought to address.

A few months ago, I posted a journal on the importance of knowing your vocab. It addressed how no one seems to know what feminism is anymore. Unfortunately, my spellcheck does recognize the word Misandry and so it changed every Misandry in the journal to Misanthropy.

We know what Misogyny means.

misogyny
A	noun
	1	misogyny, misogynism
				hatred of women

Free Online Dictionary.

So, hatred of women. Sexism.

We know what Misanthropy means.

misanthropy
A	noun
	1	misanthropy
				a disposition to dislike and mistrust other people
		Category Tree: abstraction ╚attribute ╚trait ╚nature ╚disposition; temperament ╚unfriendliness ╚misanthropy
	2	misanthropy
				hatred of mankind
		Category Tree: psychological feature ╚feeling ╚emotion ╚hate; hatred ╚misanthropy

Free Online Dictionary

Not sexist, just depressing.

What's Misandry?

Misandry

mis·an·dry

Hatred of Men
Hatred of men as a sexually defined group

Yet, you don't hear much about Misandry, do you. You hear man-hate occasionally when talking about feminism, but not the word Misandry. Sorry, but why is it that sexism is not being exposed on all sides?

Well, Misandrists are not as dangerous

Oh, really?

Valerie Jean Solanas

Radical "Feminist" who hated men. She shot Andy Warhol. I'd also like to mention that Andy Warhol was the guy who not only who got The Velvet Underground on their feet and recording, but he also insisted they bring another chick into the band. Not that this really has anything to do with this, but I really like Andy Warhol.

But, Misandrists are not just a threat to legendary andrygonous artists/filmmakers. They are also a threat against FEMINISM.

FEMINISM

	Definitions of 'feminism' (fĕḿə-nĭźəm)
	The American Heritage® Dictionary- (2 definitions)

Often times, the first definition is altered to say "Belief in equal social, political, and economic rights and  opportunites for women to those of men."

The word "Equal" immediately makes any statement like that perfectly symmetrical. You see, if women were to be equal with men, then men would be equal to women. "Women equal to men" is more commonly used because up until a century or so ago, around half the human population was treated as inferiors, given little to no rights, oppressed and controlled as well as being treated like expendable resources, therefore in many ways robbed of a large fraction of what makes a human human. And no, it wasn't the men who were oppressed. The women were the ones who were oppressed. So, yeah, on the gender equality schedule, women are kind of the first priority because that involves way more damage the human race needs to fix. Not that guys dont have to deal with sexism, but women more shit to deal with in the social level alone than dudes do.

Is Feminism even still relevant?


I'm going to start off with the little things and work my way up.

One: Majority of women are incapable of walking down the street enjoying an ice cream cone without somebody shouting something out and turning it into porn

Two: Words like "skank" and "slut"

Three: Double Standard when it comes to virginity For boys: TRIUMPH, For Girls: SHAME

Four: Father Daughter Purity Balls

Five: Men in general assumed to be so callous and irresponsible that it's "lucky" if he's willing to stick by and support the chick he impregnated. He's special because he has an ounce of moral fiber. Because, you know, guys don't have that.

Six: Polygamy

Seven: Rights for LGBTs not equal. Discrimination based on orientation and homophobia is just another brand of sexism. Men are allowed to marry the women they love, but women can't. I'm allowed to marry the man I love, but a man can't. Why? Because of their gender. It's just "not right." You're not allowed to have your love/relationship because of what's between your legs. Or you're defined by what between your legs. You can't possibly be anything else, no matter how incompatible it is with the rest of you.

Eight: Rape blame and skepticism

Nine: Sexism roaming free, women still the most disadvantaged group in the world. NOT EVER COUNTRY IS A WESTERN/EUROPEAN COUNTRY. WE'RE STILL WAY MORE SOCIALLY PROGRESSIVE THAN A LOT OF OTHER COUNTRIES. READ the book "Princess" a memior by a Saudi Arabian Princess named Sultana. Then go and check out some of the stuf going on in a bunch of other middle eastern countries as well African ones. CAN YOU SAY UNANESTHIZED VAGINAL CIRCUMCISIONS AND THE INABILITY TO REJECT A SEXUAL PROPOSITION?

So yes, it's relevant.

And no, you can't be a feminist if you hate men or consider them inferior. Feminism is equality. Anti-discrimination.

Which is exactly why I hate the phrase Pro-Feminism so much.

Becase the Movement that is supposed to end gender discrimination and achieve equality is saying that a person can't be part of something they believe in or addressed in the manner of someone with those beliefs because of their gender.

THAT'S GENDER DISCRIMINATION.

THAT'S THE OPPOSITE OF FEMINISM. IT'S ALSO MISANDRY. MISANDRY IS SEXISM. SEXISM IS WHAT FEMINISM IS SUPPOSED TO SOLVE, NOT CREATE.

NO WONDER "FEMINISM" IS NOW TREATED LIKE A DIRTY WORD.

THANKS FOR THE TOTAL HYPOCRISY, STEREOTYPES, AND DESECRATION OF ONE OF THE MOST BENEFICIAL AND IMPORTANT IDEALS THE HUMAN RACE WILL EVER KNOW.

No, seriously, you don't even have to use any ethics or human decency to know why oppression of either gender is bad. You could put it into Cold-hearted business terms: Severe gender oppression wipes out an enormous percentage of human resources on Earth.

True story. Shit, we didn't have much success freeing slaves in the US until after the Seneca Falls Convention.

The bottom line is that you people need to stick up for yourselfs and not accept stereotypes and restrictions shot at you because of your gender. BE A FUCKING FEMINIST. STOP HATING PEOPLE.

Gentlemen, if you dont think you should be treated differently from another person based on gender, guess what?


Ladies, if you don't think you should be treated differently because of your sex, guess what?

YOU'RE FEMINISTS. NOT PRO-FEMINISTS, NOT LESBIANS (NECESSARILY), DEFINITELY NOT MISANDRISTS (I really, really hate misandry. A LOT ), NOT WIMPS OR FREAKS.

YOU JUST DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO DEAL WITH A Y OR EXTRA X CHROMOSOME DICTATING WHAT YOUR LIFE IS GOING TO HOLD FOR YOU. END OF STORY.

Hello Buzznetters! This is Wendy Notsid back with the second Annual BUZZNET MUSIC RAZZIES.

For those of you who don’t know, the Buzznet Music Razzies are a series of Polls that are designed to award the truly awful things we’ve seen and heard in music over the years.

Here’s how it works, we have a series of categories, and every category will have a poll ten nominees. Two polls will be posted per week.

Users will give me candidates to be nominees for each category, listed in this journal.

While the primary basis for nominations will be user picks, I, Wendy Notsid, will not necessarily use every one of them nor will every nominee be one suggested by the users. This is a precautionary measure in case a) not enough nominees are suggested for a category, b) there is a ridiculous amount of redundancy in the nominations (ie, people nominating Hannah Montana for every category), or c) if the nominee is not seen to fit the category (if this is the case, I will PM the person for clarification). Also, if certain nominees were used last year and they have not been active this year, they may be excluded.

HOWEVER, I want to make it clear to you that YOU ARE THE ONES WHO CHOOSE WHO IS NOMINATED. NOT ME. JUST BECAUSE I PUT SOMEONE IN, IT DOES NOT MEAN I ACTUALLY HAVE A NEGATIVE OPINION OF THE ARTIST/SONG/WHATEVER. THESE POLLS DO NOT REFLECT MY OWN PERSONAL FEELINGS OR TASTES. ANYBODY WHO FAILS TO NOTE THIS AND MAKES A COMMENT ALONG THE LINES OF INSULTING OR THREATENING FOR HAVING SO AND SO IN THE POLL IMMEDIATELY ACCEPTS THE TITLE OF “ILLITERATE TEENYBOPPER” AND FORFEITS THEIR RIGHT TO COMPLAIN WHEN PEOPLE RESPOND TO THEM WITH VARIOUS MACROS. THE SAME GOES FOR PEOPLE WHO INSULT OTHERS FOR NOT LIKING SOMETHING. IF YOU’RE UPSET SOMETHING YOU LIKE IS NOMINATED, SAY SO, BUT DO NOT SAY NASTY THINGS ABOUT PEOPLE FOR HAVING DIFFERENT PREFERENCES. YOU DON’T HAVE TO LIKE IT OR PRETEND YOU DO. JUST TOLERATE IT. THIS DISCLAIMER WILL BE ON THE TOP OF EVERY POLL AND SO IF YOU NEGLECT TO READ IT, WELL, YOUR FAULT.

As Humans, we love to hate the way we love to love. But let's not take this too seriously, okay?

                I would also like to let people know that I’m not stupid, I know that like last year, I will be getting a lot of heat for this. I am not afraid of dealing with that as I have done before and will not complain. I put myself out there, I’m going to get jabbed. I’ll also own up to being a total schmuck. I am not going to whine and piss about it. I will laugh at all the people who were not mature or intelligent enough to not have an outburst over an internet poll. However, if you do enter into a debate with me or insult me or anyone else, I will tell you where to go. And if you insult others viciously, I will definitely grill you.

                THE NOMINEES ARE NOT PICKED BY ONE PERSON. THEREFORE TRYING TO BITCH OUT SOMEONE WOULD BE A WASTE OF TIME AND UTTERLY POINTLESS. IF YOU CAN’T KEEP YOURSELF FROM HAVING A TEMPER TANTRUM BY SOME POLL ON THE INTERNET, THEN STAY OF THE FREAKING INTERNET.

                Opinions: Good.

                Tantrums: Suckier than Fred Phelps

                Ok, so now, the categories this year are mostly the same, save for a few ones that I left out from last year and the addition of a few new ones I’ve come up with.

                This is how the nomination will work: I am going to list the categories by number. In the comments below, you will list the candidates you want for the category by the corresponding number. By each category that has already been done last year, there will be a link to the poll from last year in order for you guys to reference in case you want to nominate something that has already been nominated. If you still want to do that after viewing the last poll, please tell me why. If it is a new category, there will be a star (*) next to it.

                The Categories:

               
1)Worst band/artist. Last Year's Poll

2)Most overrated band/artist. Last Year's Poll
3)Worst album made by a good artist. Last Year's Poll
4)Worst album made by a bad artist. Last Year's Poll
5)Most Astounding Scandal/Rumor. Last Year's Poll
6)Dumbest Musician Quote. Last Year's Poll
7)Most idiotic band feud. Last Year's Poll
8)Worst band name. Last Year's Poll
9)Worst cover. Last Year's Poll
10)Worst lyrics. Last Year's Poll
11)Most annoying single. Last Year's Poll
12)Worst Live Act. Last Year's Poll
13)Most Pathetic band member solo career. Last Year's Poll
14)Worst attempt by actor trying to be a rock star. Last Year's Poll
15)Worst attempt by rock star trying to be an actor. Last Year's Poll
*16) Most Pathetically Blatent Product Placement.
17)Worst Attempt at Being Cool and Hip. Last Year's Poll
*18)Lamest Death in Music
*19) Worst Rock Star Appearance Transformation

Thanks to everyone who left their condolences on my journals about my Grandma dying. I really appreciate it, and I know my grandmother would too.

The funeral was interesting on Sunday. The immediate family was there (Me, Mom, Dad, my sister Sarah, Grandpa, Aunt Lois and Uncle Chris). A lot of family friends came as well, some who I see a lot like my dad's best friends Christine, JM, John L, Kathy L and John. John, who I've known since I was about seven, came up from Florida where he lives to come, which was insanely touching because it's a big schlep. Christine, who is also my dad's business partner, and JM, who works in my dad's business and had me stay at her house last year got the funeral wreath. Christine and John were both Pallbearers and JM brought her boyfriend, Boyfriend Bob (between my dad Bob and her brother Bob, she has so many Bobs in her life, he's Boyfriend Bob). The L's were there, they are some of my parents' best friends, as well as Nicole and Betsy, who are my mom's two best friends in the world. Jay and Bridgette M, two of my parents best friends, came for the Shiva ceremony (they thought the funeral was family only for some reason). Plenty of my grandparents friends from their old neighborhood as well as from their retirement community came.

There were A LOT of people there, all of them knew my grandma, and they all loved her. My Grandma was a riot. A loveable riot.

Some people were not so familiar to me though. They were either friends of my Grandparents who I had never met or they were people who I had not seen since I was very young. One person in particular who lived in our old old neighborhood (we've moved twice) came up to me and couldn't believe it. They commented that the last time they saw me, I was a blonde (I was a blonde until I was about five, when my hair started turning brown, it's been getting darker my whole life).

The rabbi (whose name I am not sure how to spell) is a really great guy.

Ok, I am sure a lot of you are a little confused as to the talk of Rabbis and Shivas since I go to Catholic School and stuff. Let me just explain.

My Dad's family (who, though I was raised Catholic by my mom, is the side of the family I've been my whole life, that side is the one that lives near us. My Aunt and Uncle live in the neighboring county, and my grandparents moved down here from the Bronx when I was born) is Jewish. Not the most observant Jews in the world (my grandfather went through a period where he was an athiest, but then he had an epiphany and became really involved with the Temple for several years), mostly because my grandparents were too sick to go every week, my dad I think is borderline agnostic, and my Aunt and Uncle are just not the religious types. But we celebrate Passover and Chanukah and my grandpa goes periodically to the Temple. My grandma was raised Catholic, but converted when she married my grandfather. Kind of like my mom, only my mom did not convert. So we had the ceremony at Beth-El synagogue and the buriel was a Jewish Ceremony and my Grandfather is currently sitting Shiva.

For all of you who don't know, sitting Shiva is this period of usually seven (but it can be less or more) days where the closest family member/grieving party, in this case my grandfather, stays indoors to grieve. A candle is lit in the window of the home and visitors come to the house to offer condolences, and everyone brings food. The griever doesn't act as a host though, but people come to comfort and stuff. I think it's a really good idea.

One thing that really bothered me during the period where my grandmother was dying was that even during the hospice days, I barely cried at all. People kept telling me how "good" I was "at this" and how I was "dealing and going through this better than anyone else." The whole time, I was filled with guilt because I wasn't crying, and I was often thinking about the most shallow and pointless things during that whole period. The day before she died, I had gone to the dermatologist with my mom. I had gotten up early and was so eager to go back home and go to bed. My mom wanted to go visit Grandma after we were done and I didn't want to. Thank God she made me go. I feel so terrible about it.

I had written the eulogy the morning she died, right after Mom woke me up with the news. I knew when she knocked on the door and told me to come out because it was "very important." We all knew. We were just waiting.

But I didn't even cry the day I found out.

I broke down at the Funeral. I was the first to give a eulogy and I choked up halfway into the second sentence. It was so strange because as I was walking up to the podium, I was not thinking about Grandma. I was thinking about how annoyed I was with my dad, because I had said I would sit at the end of the pew since I was going up first and then tried to get everyone to go in before me when we were walking in and my dad made me sit in the middle, making more than a few awkward problems when I was getting out and trying to get by my dad, Aunt, and Uncle.

But the second sentence, I choked up. I didn't want to be incoherent though, or blubbery. My grandmother was a formidable woman who did not want people to weep a lot over her (on my sister's first visit to the hospice, she was crying. My Grandma, practically a vegetable and hardly able to speak, managed to straighten herself, give Sarah a stern look, and go, "You stop that crying right now, you hear?"). I wanted people to think of the memories I had recorded, not a bunch of indecipherable babble. I had memorized it somewhat so I tried to put myself together and make myself coherent by looking not at the words but at the people in the Temple. I caught glimpses of my sister, Aunt, Dad, as well as Christine and several other family friends crying, which made it worse. I looked back at my paper and just read. I was so surprised mine wasn't dramatic or weird or anything. I sometimes worry I am too hammy when I write and was worried that instinct would pop up and pollute what I wrote. But everyone said mine was "natural".

The tears cleared a bit when my Mom got up next to speak. She was very dramatic and she was talking about the relationship she had with Grandma and for some reason, whenever she does, it's a bit on the ridiculous side. Seeing her up on a podium doing that made me think about that. It wasn't disrespectful or anything. It was just dramatic. But dramatics run in our family. She talked about how Grandma stood up for her and was always open-ears for people. It was a good eulogy, but it wasn't able to make me cry.

My Dad talked about how lucky my grandfather was to have her, and spoke about what a dynamo she was. He mentioned how as a girl growing up in the 20's and 30's, she was not expected to get an education, so her response was to make sure all her children went to college. My Mom, Dad, Aunt and Uncle all have Masters degrees. My sister is in Law School. His was by far the happiest and probably my favorite. It made me cry a little.

My Grandfather went last. His turned on the waterworks for me. I fucking howled. It was so sad. Part of it was that I know that out of all of us, Grandpa is hurt the worst. It wasn't just because she was his wife or that he knew her the longest. It was that with Grandma's parting, a part of each of us was ripped away. Part of me is gone. Part of my Dad is gone. Part of my sister is gone. Part of my Mom is gone. Part of my Aunt Lois is gone. Part of Uncle Chris is gone. But none of us had a bigger part taken from us than Grandpa. She was not just half of him. She also was the one who took care of him his whole life. In so many ways. There was also him mentioning how she suffered, also how she "didn't wait for him." She couldn't. I wasn't sure if Grandpa understood that. I guess Grandma always being the strongest and sturdiest and leader of the family sort of made him think on a subconscious level that she could wait for him if she wanted to. All of us were pretty surprised she'd be going first.

My sister didn't speak. Part of me was a bit surprised because I think Sarah was really the higher granddaughter in a way. It was more than being the older one. She and Grandma had this connection that I was not a part of. I think I had a connection with Grandma that Sarah didn't have, but I think the one Sarah had just seemed more obvious. I don't know. One thing also was that Sarah was the one who was most obviously a D'Annunzio (Grandma's family), the most Italian. It's a bit complicated because it's not quite so clear at first glance. My grandmother was red haired and blue eyed while my sister (like my Dad and Aunt Lois, Grandma's kids) is dark haired and had those eyes that started out brown and became hazel (my dad's eyes are almost green, my mom's are too, now that I think about it). But Sarah is an energizer bunny like my grandma, and she has the D'Annunzio nose, and she knew my grandma better than I did. I have more Cieslokowski/Duda Polish genes (I used to be aminiature of my mom, but I look way more like my dad now), not just the coloring, but I have the Cieslokowski nose and Duda uber-dark brown eyes (I got the D'Annunzio figure though, and my sister didn't). She also has some of the same manners. Sarah out of all the family resembles Grandma the most.

But at the same time, her not speaking fit her nature. Sarah is the one person in our family (besides my Aunt and Uncle) who is not really into speaking out and putting herself out there. She also said that "I had it covered." So I guess it was not that big a deal. Once she actually talked about why she said no, it made perfect sense.

My sister is one of my best friends. We're insanely different in a lot of respects. She's the left-brained, driven, uber-focussed, hard-working, straight-laced, more conservative go-getter who dresses pressed and preppy and is constantly getting things done and being logical. I'm the sloppy,  crazy, uber-philosophical, emotional, lazy, fiery, undisciplined, bizarre Eccentric who dresses weird and is always all over the place. At the same time, we connect like whoa, even though we don't speak too often, we always have great conversations, we have a similar sense of humor, approach lots of mental things the same way and agree on a lot of stuff. We're kind of weird in terms of siblings. Even though a lot of the things I say makes her role her eyes or just shake her head in a sort of friendly but surrendering way, and we can annoy each other; I brag about her like whoah to people I meet (when I worked at Best Buy, every time someone came in with a Military ID, I mentioned her and how she was the star of her ROTC and all that), and she likes to show my blog to people.

Anyways, after the ceremony in the Temple ended and the Pallbearers put the coffin in the Hearse and we all got ready for the Procession, my sister and I sort of had a mixture of laughs and tears. There were more laughs when we got into the car.

The actual buriel was pretty sad but very touching at the same time. For one thing, I was so happy to see Christine and John as Pallbearers. Sarah and I were also thrilled to see my Mom's friends Betsy and Nicole. We love Nicole and Betsy, Betsy was our neighbor in our old neighborhood and her daughters were childhood friends of mine and she's one of my Mom's best friends. Nicole we've known forever. They're both so awesome.

There are three things I want to mention before I go on to talk about the reception and I think they mean quite a bit.

The first one was before the funeral service when we were in the Temple. When I first walked in, memories came flooding back, just seeing the lobby. I had not been to Beth-El in so many years. I mean, I think the last time I was there I had just moved the first time, so it was over ten years. Yet I was suddenly remembering the night my Grandparents renewed their vows when I was little and my Grandmother standing there in a Dusty Rose colored dress and I went up and asked her why she wasn't wearing a white dress and veil if it was her wedding. I even remember a little of the ceremony, when Grandma was up in front in a chair behind the podium while the Rabbi was speaking and she was wearing her reading glasses and looking at some paper in her lap. It was so strange, that lobby bringing back those memories.

I was trying to greet everyone and figure out who everyone was because I wanted to thank everyone for coming. I felt like it was my duty as well, being a family member. But I made it into the actual Sanctuary a couple times before it started and the first time I walked in and I saw the coffin. It was draped in a blue velvet cloth with a gold Star of David on it and it just hit me. I didn't cry, but I did a serious double-take. The reality of her death had always been there, but it just hit me once again when I saw that casket and I thought Grandma's body is in there! Not Grandma, Grandma's body. And it was just like, so where is she? She was all around us, I supposed, but it was as if she was truly dead. And that the thought and realization of her being dead this time was not expected or understood, but a shock. I mean, I knew she was dying, I knew she was dead. I had had that going through my mind for so long that it was just so, well, normal, obvious in a sick way. But this time, it was a shock. But I knew she was there, she just wasn't in her cancer-ridden body anymore.

The third thing has a little to do with the last one, and it was at the reception after we had buried her. I had been taking turns with my sister and Dad escorting and looking after my grandfather the whole day, escorting him into the synagogue, into the Rabbi's office, etc. I had sat down next to him at the table to put my stuff down, then went to get a sandwich (As Betsy and my Dad put it, Jews have no ceremony when it comes to food and while I am not really a Jew, I come from a family of Jews and lots of stereotypical traits characterize our family). I sat down again with my Grandpa, gave him a kiss and asked him if he was sure I could not get him anything (I had asked when we sat down, he had told me to go get some food for myself). He said no and then after a few silent moments ( I was not going to ask him how he was doing), he goes "We left Mother back in that park."

I told him with utmost certainty that we didn't. First I told him it was because Grandma was all around us, which was true. But I don't think he bought that. So I also said another thing I believed to be true, and that was Grandma could never be left out of a place where people were being fed.

The good thing about my Grandma was that she was such a riot, so even though she has died, jokes like that are totally appropriate.

The reception was small (not a ton of people were there because there was a mixup over location), but it was lovely. It was sentimental, but not depressing. And I think Grandma would be pretty mad at us if it had been a mopefest. Dad had put on a nice touch to the food by making sure there were Canolis there.

The Shiva was several hours later, and a bunch of my grandparents' friends from the retirement community as well as several family friends came. It was definitely a little somber because my grandfather was so tired of it all by the end, then there was also saying the Shiva prayers and the Kaddish. That ceremony is not the happiest thing on Earth.

Before the actual prayers when people were hanging around and talking, I went out for a walk around the Grounds. It was raining, but I didn't care. I felt like the the world was crying for Grandma Julia. I followed the same route the day she died, up to this small man-made lake with a fountain and dock and Gazebo. Beautiful.

I'm going to tell you something too, and that's when she finally passed, I was relieved. She had been in Hospice care for weeks and the last couple of weeks she was not my Grandma. The Morphine and the other drugs were lying in that bed, not her. My Grandmother was insanely active and loud and assertive and useful. She's get more done in a day than I do in a week and was always wandering around yelling at my grandpa and telling people useful things or giving them instructions. When she found out she was dying a couple of months ago, what was she doing? Wandering around with 200 feet of hose connected to an oxygen tank filling the pantry for Grandpa, meeting with several caretakers, getting the bank accounts changed and settled and watching everything Grandpa ate. The first week she was in the Hospital she was still giving instructions and when she found out that Grandpa had eaten dinner at our house the night before, she interrogated us thoroughly on everything Grandpa ate that night.

The last two weeks, she said said only two things with the same force. One was when she sort of woke from her haze of unconsciousness and opened her eyes wide, looked sternly at my sister, asked if she was smoking. When my sister said no, my grandmother looked at her even more fiercely and said, "DON'T EVER SMOKE!" before falling back into a haze.

She also told me to "Never take any shit, never take anyone's shit."

Let me tell you something: my Grandmother was Mother to everyone. Not just to my Dad and Aunt Lois. But my Mother lives so far from her own family and has for the majority of her life, so my Grandma was her mother too. She was a mother to my Uncle Chris. She was a Mother to her husband Norman, constantly taking care of him and everything he did not just as a wife. She was his support system and every way. She was his real mother. She was also a Mother to Sarah and Me as well. That's not to say she is any way was an equal to my Mom, but she was a mother. She took care of us, looked after us, and taught us so much. She nurtured us, and constant presence. She was Mom-Mom (my name for her as a little kid) with a vengeance.

My Grandma was one of the coolest, most amazing people alive. And I think everything I ever do of worth is in her honor.

I'm not miserable, because my Grandmother is incapable of letting me be.

 

Grandma always needed something to do. I don’t remember a time where she wasn’t trying to get something done. The fact was, she always cared about people and what she could do for them. It was her calling. I have a difficult time imagining anyone loving their family the way Grandma did. She had a special talent for it, the way some people are good at golf or playing the piano, Grandma was good at letting people know she loved them. She liked to talk about it in her own subtle way as well, constantly reminding us of the things we did together. Those Wednesdays having lunch at her house when I was little was one of those memories we always discussed. I never forgot them. Ramen noodles with American Cheese and Goldfish crackers in the broth, Pudding and Milano cookies after. If I stayed over at her house, I could look forward to her making eggs for me. Strangely enough, I don’t think anything went with ketchup like those eggs. It’s an odd thing to say because ketchup is supposed to go with the food, not the other way around. But those eggs were legendary, so they could go with ketchup. Grandma would always have fun making eggs for people so she could talk about the Magic Pan she gave my mother so Mom could make eggs as well as she could. My sister Sarah demanded it. There were also the ducks; Grandma and our Au Pair Benida taking me to feed the ducks with pieces of bread. That was a long time ago, but it just popped into my head this morning.

                I guess another thing I will always remember about my grandmother is just how there she always was; even when I didn’t go over to her house to play with her, or watch one of the tapes of the ballet she and Grandpa recorded on those tapes they kept in the Train room. She was a huge fixture in our family, always was. There was nobody like her, there never will be. We love you Grandma, and we will always miss you.

I have no idea what to say.

Any suggestions?

The fact is that the clock is really ticking and my Grandma may have only a little time. She's hallucinating and is barely coherent. I spent all of yesterday at the Hospice and while according to everyone I've been handling this better than anyone in the whole family and have been "terrific," I think the affects of this have become subconscious and affected my sleep.