For those of you I haven’t met yet, Martha was my Nana. Nana
was a role model in so many things: being a loving wife, mom, grandmother and
great-grandmother, being an engaged political citizen and community member,
aging gracefully, staying open minded and always learning. I learned a lot from
her life and her stories. But perhaps the most important thing I’ve tried to
learn from her is how to really listen to people with love.
When I was in college, I would visit her and Papa, and they
were so excited to listen to my dreams and plans. And what I noticed is that
she was always listening in a way that reflected the best in me. I told her
about my ambitions to study science, and work to discover new drug treatments-
she told anyone who would listen I was going
to cure Alzheimer’s Disease. When my husband Matt got a job at PACCAR doing
sustaining engineering, she told her friends he was making a greener truck. Now,
of course, she is my grandmother- it makes sense that she would hold me in high
esteem. But since I have been able to spend time with her as an adult, I’ve
realized :This is how she listened to
everyone.
I am so fortunate that when Matt and I moved back to
Washington from Pittsburgh, she decided to move closer to us. It was a huge
adjustment for her, but she took it on with an enthusiasm for change that it
uncommon for people her age- or frankly people my age. So, thank you to the friends in Spokane who let her leave, and thank
you to her friends in Bothell for helping her to never regret the decision to
move.
I was impressed by how considerate she was of new friends-
she used to carry a little notepad to write down people’s names as she met them
so she wouldn’t do them the injustice of forgetting their names. And she didn’t
limit her circles. When she realized how many of the nursing staff at the
Chateau were immigrants, she got a map, and would ask each of them to point out
where they were from so she could really learn about them and their histories.
Many of the servers in the Chateau dining room are young, and she gladly
nourished their ambitions for school and careers and travel. Because she always
made time, and paid attention to people in a really personal, compassionate
way, she brought out the most patient, considerate side in others.
Since Martha’s passing, I have heard from so many people how
sorely she will be missed. Thank you all for recounting your stories of how
kind and generous Nana was with her time and attention. As you all know, She
made friends quickly. She delighted to share and celebrate your fantastic
stories with me-athletes who completed amazing feats swimming huge distances in
open water, artists who were perfecting a craft shaped by years of practice and
the thrill of travel, and even one guy single handedly restoring an amphibious
landing craft in Portland Oregon. When Nana describes her friends to me, they
always sound young, vital and full of a joy for life, which is something she
just brought out in people.
She just had a way of warmly acknowledging everyone to make
them feel special.
When I defended my doctorate, she proudly traveled to
Pittsburgh to listen to my seminar and defense. At the after party, she pulled
out her camera and took pictures of every
single person who came to wish me well- not just the faculty and my close
friends, but the post-docs, the undergraduates and the techs. There were
probably 100 people there. She was thrilled to celebrate with all these people who
must have played an important role in
my education; she knew they must be special because they turned out to support
me. She chatted with every single person at the party, and for weeks
afterwards, people told me how charming my grandmother the photographer was.
A few years ago, we took a trip to Winthrop with Nana and my
mother-in-law Betty. There were people who looked like me and my husband, who
were returning from bike rides or hikes, people who looked like Betty or even
Nana, who were perhaps gallery shopping or RVing. Nana wanted a picture of us happily enjoying
lunch at a brewery, so of all the available patrons, she of course turned to
the table of surly-looking, leatherclad bikers pounding beers at the table next
to us, and asks them for a photo. One of these tough guys hops up with a “Yes
ma’am,” very happy to oblige. I was already bemused with the interaction, then
she sincerely asks him about his shirt- he is wearing a Caribbean beer shirt,
with bright colors and scantily clad ladies. And Surly McBikerGang lights up
and tells her about the joy of lazing on the beach and partying in Belize. And
she of course has heard such wonderful things about Central America from her
dear friend who has a tree house in Costa Rica… the way they hit it off, I
thought he was going to buy her a beer. But that was Nana: she always saw the
best in people- these weren’t thug bikers, these were a few guys enjoying each
other’s company just like us, and she brought out the best in people just by
treating them like they truly are treasures.
I hope to spend the rest of my life working to be as warm
and loving to every human I encounter as she showed me how to be. To Nana,
everyone was special, and everyone was worthy of her time and attention. She will be sorely missed, and fondly
remembered by everyone who had the great pleasure of knowing her.
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