Saz and Sue and other stuff
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Happy birthday to Saz, one of my favoritest people in the world. You're who I want to grow up to become in terms of taking care of other people with humor and patience and expertise and grace. Love you heaps.
On a sadder note, my friend Sue Alley died in a car wreck this past weekend. I met Sue at First UU, where she had been a member for over two decades. She sang first soprano in both the choir and in the church rock band, and she was a dedicated volunteer - secretary of the board, drinksmistress at the annual auction, and whatever else she saw needing to be done. Sue was feisty and wholeheartedly committed to looking out for other people in ways large and small - my memories include Sue bringing water to the auction recorders' table, Sue speaking up when she felt someone was being wronged, and Sue making a point of finding me my first Sunday back at church this spring (after my mother died). Sue taught English and drama in Nashville's inner-city public schools (speaking of fighting fights that need to be fought). Sue loved good food and company, and we frequently ended up at the same gatherings, including a couple of poker nights.
That said, I will confess that there were multiple occasions where I wanted Sue to please shut up for a bit, in part because everything was indeed a drama (and I'm the sort who doesn't deal with that well), and also because she was in choir primarily for social reasons (making her one of those singers who sees nothing wrong with chitchatting all through rehearsal, which drives me up a tree. That was one of our more interesting conversations...). (And I'd be surprised, in turn, if there weren't times when she wondered what the hell was my problem.) But there's absolutely no question that Sue's heart was huge, and that she gave as much as she could to other people and then some -- and to animals, too: I find myself hoping to God that she is now truly resting in peace. (And trusting to God -- at least a little bit -- that new people will show up to fight the fights and feed the hungry and fill in the chords.)
(I was telling another friend a couple months ago that things like this are the downside of belonging to a large, caring congregation: more people to love does eventually translate into more people to lose, and more grief to help bear. I've lost track of how many sympathy cards & memoria I've sent this year, and, oh hell, I can barely remember how many funerals I've attended, for that matter, even though that number at least is still in single digits. (And there are still two boxes of ashes in my closet to deal with sometime later this year or early next.) (And some of the seniors are looking so frail, and I'm braced for what must someday come, but not really.) But there's a joy in such interconnectedness, of course, and so what I'm going to remember in the days ahead is standing at a microphone with Sue and our friend Mary, singing backup together on Aretha Franklin songs.
I ended up having to sit out the Japanese festival - too much coughing, too much work. My sightseeing and church-visiting plans had to be jettisoned for the same reason. I'm somewhat grumpy about that, but I did treat myself to some decent barbeque Saturday night, so there was at least a little bit of Memphis in with all the comma-wrangling. Some other time...
On a sadder note, my friend Sue Alley died in a car wreck this past weekend. I met Sue at First UU, where she had been a member for over two decades. She sang first soprano in both the choir and in the church rock band, and she was a dedicated volunteer - secretary of the board, drinksmistress at the annual auction, and whatever else she saw needing to be done. Sue was feisty and wholeheartedly committed to looking out for other people in ways large and small - my memories include Sue bringing water to the auction recorders' table, Sue speaking up when she felt someone was being wronged, and Sue making a point of finding me my first Sunday back at church this spring (after my mother died). Sue taught English and drama in Nashville's inner-city public schools (speaking of fighting fights that need to be fought). Sue loved good food and company, and we frequently ended up at the same gatherings, including a couple of poker nights.
That said, I will confess that there were multiple occasions where I wanted Sue to please shut up for a bit, in part because everything was indeed a drama (and I'm the sort who doesn't deal with that well), and also because she was in choir primarily for social reasons (making her one of those singers who sees nothing wrong with chitchatting all through rehearsal, which drives me up a tree. That was one of our more interesting conversations...). (And I'd be surprised, in turn, if there weren't times when she wondered what the hell was my problem.) But there's absolutely no question that Sue's heart was huge, and that she gave as much as she could to other people and then some -- and to animals, too: I find myself hoping to God that she is now truly resting in peace. (And trusting to God -- at least a little bit -- that new people will show up to fight the fights and feed the hungry and fill in the chords.)
(I was telling another friend a couple months ago that things like this are the downside of belonging to a large, caring congregation: more people to love does eventually translate into more people to lose, and more grief to help bear. I've lost track of how many sympathy cards & memoria I've sent this year, and, oh hell, I can barely remember how many funerals I've attended, for that matter, even though that number at least is still in single digits. (And there are still two boxes of ashes in my closet to deal with sometime later this year or early next.) (And some of the seniors are looking so frail, and I'm braced for what must someday come, but not really.) But there's a joy in such interconnectedness, of course, and so what I'm going to remember in the days ahead is standing at a microphone with Sue and our friend Mary, singing backup together on Aretha Franklin songs.
I ended up having to sit out the Japanese festival - too much coughing, too much work. My sightseeing and church-visiting plans had to be jettisoned for the same reason. I'm somewhat grumpy about that, but I did treat myself to some decent barbeque Saturday night, so there was at least a little bit of Memphis in with all the comma-wrangling. Some other time...
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