Jane & Elmer

An artist and neighbor of my grandparents made these prints for our family. My grandpa died in 2002 and my grandma this last fall- our family owned their house in Lakeside for over 55 years, they lived there full-time for as long as I can remember. They were pretty much institutions in the town. Anyway, my aunt recently sent me my copy of the print and it's hanging in the hall now. It's really very nice, both a thing to say about them and to look at.

Lately

I'll skip the b.s. since I never seem to make-up blog posts about things that have happened... since my last post Charlie's parents were here for a few days and then my mom was here for a week. A week (and then we've had another whole weekend since I started this post...) It was a good visit, I think good most importantly because there have been times, many times, in our relationship where a day-long visit would not have ended well. But this one was fine. My relationship with my mom is complicated and accounts for a lot of my "baggage" and is definitely not for public-blog consumption. BUT, perhaps through a combination of her changes and my own stability and recognition that while there are things I embrace very deeply about her (about both/all of my parents), I am not her and the things I don't like don't threaten me as deeply as they used to. Maybe it's growing up, maybe it's increasing exposure over the years to other parents, other people and the situations all kinds of people find themselves in. And maybe that all is growing up. It might sound elementary, but you can't pick your parents and you can't pick the terms of your birth. They're not perfect, they're just people.

Earlier this week an acquaintance-type facebook friend posted a rant about the SEPTA strike and how the drivers are greedy and a bunch of other drivel. It irked me incredibly. NO. I was raised, by my parents, to side with striking workers. People do not risk theirs jobs and strike unless it is important. I thought of last week, too, when I drove by people with signs in front of City Hall. My parents also taught me to, unless they're advocating something totally loony, honk and support them. They were for the public option. I honked. I thought of it while my mom was telling us the story of getting fired from her first lawyer job, while pregnant with me, on Christmas, after being elected president of her local. Thank you, parents. Thank you for giving me a head start on some of the lessons and values I hope I would have come to on my own eventually.

So yes, parents and family are flawed and disappointingly human. But I was happy to feel last week like I am increasingly able to appreciate the aspects that have made me who I am... and let the rest, as my mom would say, roll off my back.

Grandma Jane

Jane L. Biehl, Jane L. Erlinder, Jane L. Nesius
1915-2009

My grandma died this morning. She lived enough life for two people. She spoke Swedish, although she wouldn't admit it. She was a career woman before that was what women did. She loved to travel and sewed her grandchildren halloween costumes, I've been looking for the picture of me as Rainbow Brite at 4 to show you how awesome it was. She went from southside Chicago to Lakeside, Michigan, one of the most special places on earth. She could cut a mean rug, polka or otherwise, and loved to dance. She loved me so much, and those I loved. Even if towards the end she would ask, "whose dog is that?" But then would follow it up with, "he's such a nice dog." For the past few years, she inquired regularly about my "friend" Charlie. She made the best swedish meatballs. She was a lady in the purest sense, my mom tells how in all their painting of the Lakeside house when it was still a fixer-upper summer house, Grandma Jane could paint an entire room without getting a speck of paint on her. She had an undeniable sense of humor.

Surprise 90th birthday.

She's the one on the left, with friends from work in her Montgomery Ward accounting days.

Thankfully, the past 3 years in Madison meant I got to see her pretty often. And her death was relatively pain-free. But darn it, I already miss this woman a whole lot.

A good idea.

The perfect Valentine's gift-- for him or her.

She gets access to full bottle of wine wherever, whenever.

He gets a ladyfriend with boobs two sizes bigger, filled with booze.

Win-win.

I knew I don't watch Grey's for a reason...

... and maybe this isn't MY reason, but it's a pretty good one.


"People complain that hip-hop stars use obscene lyrics and lewd music videos to demean women. Sometimes, so do even the most bourgeois women’s television shows."

from...

And yes I recognize the irony/hypocritical nature of being an editor of a law journal about gender, making my first foray to Hooters yesterday and abstaining from a hit tv show really because I think it's silly but claiming it's for empowerment reasons... ok?