Ten year anniversary
The traditional gift for a tenth wedding anniversary is tin or aluminum. This makes me think of Sue's cabin. She loved her little nook on the hillside. She lived with me for a while during its completion. She had hoped that it would be finished and she could move in immediately after Alderson but it took longer than that. I don't remember a lot about her staying with me except that she was easy company. One of Sue's remarkable qualities was her balance of ferocity and total guileless love. Fierce in her convictions and protection of what and whom she loved - and she loved a great many people and enjoyed many things.
Ten years is a long time to not talk to somebody. If Sue were alive, and we were living as far apart as I am now from that hillside, how often would we talk? Her cabin had grounded her in Newport, but her work may have taken her elsewhere. Her heart might have guided her elsewhere. Sue certainly got busy with the things right in front of her, but she connected deeply with her friends and maintained relationships over great distances. Now she is in another universe and I still feel her all of the time. I'm pretty sure she is playing with hair as I type this and giving me strength.
Metaphysically inclined or not, a memory if not a present experience still informs us after someone has passed to the other side of the veil. Sue's example remains an informing force for anyone who experienced her attention. She was present and vigilant and kind and curious and funny and sensual. She served the micro and the macro. She loved to read. She loved to ride. She loved to learn. She loved to teach. She loved to laugh. She loved to drink. She loved music - especially raggae. She loved men. She loved nature. She loved her family and her animals. We were all her family. She especially loved her young niece, Deanna, and wanted her to inherit a world that was just and at peace.
Sue was a scientist and a humanitarian. The scientist in her was organized and logical, but her deep commitment to a better planet was grounded deeply in faith and trust that it was possible. She BELIEVED that world could be better, and that it would be better if we all worked toward that. She did not tolerate greed.
That Sue's life ended violently bears lessons, too. She struggled at the end with what was the right action. She set boundaries for her assailant - reluctantly at first, because she wanted to be compassionate - and he violated those boundaries. I say reluctantly at first only because she knew that as a mentally ill person, Nik's community may be all that was holding him together, she did not think him capable of taking her life, and she did not want to cut him off from a caring community. The justice system had proved during his prison and jail time after Fort Benning that they would not treat him. He was ill, she knew, and he had recently exhibited a propensity to be selfish and violent, but her experiences of him as a peace-seeking and good-hearted person were strong. She thought, this, too, shall pass.
Sue had a lot more that she wanted to do with her life, and she sought to protect her ambitions - all of which were about serving others. That her former home went down in flames with her is probably appropriate. After a fire, sometimes those aluminum roofs are all that remain. "Downtown" Newport was rebuilt after a massive fire with that in mind - all of the buildings have metal roofs. What I remember most about that house were porch parties. White russians, beer, guitars, singing, laughter, dogs. No indoor plumbing or electricity, but we had love and friendship. And without Sue physically with us, we still have love.
Ten years is a long time to not talk to somebody. If Sue were alive, and we were living as far apart as I am now from that hillside, how often would we talk? Her cabin had grounded her in Newport, but her work may have taken her elsewhere. Her heart might have guided her elsewhere. Sue certainly got busy with the things right in front of her, but she connected deeply with her friends and maintained relationships over great distances. Now she is in another universe and I still feel her all of the time. I'm pretty sure she is playing with hair as I type this and giving me strength.
Metaphysically inclined or not, a memory if not a present experience still informs us after someone has passed to the other side of the veil. Sue's example remains an informing force for anyone who experienced her attention. She was present and vigilant and kind and curious and funny and sensual. She served the micro and the macro. She loved to read. She loved to ride. She loved to learn. She loved to teach. She loved to laugh. She loved to drink. She loved music - especially raggae. She loved men. She loved nature. She loved her family and her animals. We were all her family. She especially loved her young niece, Deanna, and wanted her to inherit a world that was just and at peace.
Sue was a scientist and a humanitarian. The scientist in her was organized and logical, but her deep commitment to a better planet was grounded deeply in faith and trust that it was possible. She BELIEVED that world could be better, and that it would be better if we all worked toward that. She did not tolerate greed.
That Sue's life ended violently bears lessons, too. She struggled at the end with what was the right action. She set boundaries for her assailant - reluctantly at first, because she wanted to be compassionate - and he violated those boundaries. I say reluctantly at first only because she knew that as a mentally ill person, Nik's community may be all that was holding him together, she did not think him capable of taking her life, and she did not want to cut him off from a caring community. The justice system had proved during his prison and jail time after Fort Benning that they would not treat him. He was ill, she knew, and he had recently exhibited a propensity to be selfish and violent, but her experiences of him as a peace-seeking and good-hearted person were strong. She thought, this, too, shall pass.
Sue had a lot more that she wanted to do with her life, and she sought to protect her ambitions - all of which were about serving others. That her former home went down in flames with her is probably appropriate. After a fire, sometimes those aluminum roofs are all that remain. "Downtown" Newport was rebuilt after a massive fire with that in mind - all of the buildings have metal roofs. What I remember most about that house were porch parties. White russians, beer, guitars, singing, laughter, dogs. No indoor plumbing or electricity, but we had love and friendship. And without Sue physically with us, we still have love.
posted by DMP at 8:10 AM
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