Grandmom

Nine years ago today, my grandma (whom I referred to from a very young age as "Grandmom") passed away. Fairly unexpectedly and way too early. It's always a tough day on me and my family, and my mom and aunt have shared beautiful tributes on Facebook.

My instinct is to be sad, and it would be natural, but I'm going to use this blog post to go in a different direction: a list of 20 things I liked best about her. Here goes...*

*Disclaimer: I realize that my last post was about Robin Williams. I promise that I won't always be writing about things that may make you want to cry, call someone you care about, and eat chocolate (simultaneously).


1. Her "Yellow Bag." It was a bag where she kept toys, treats, and goodies for me, and there were always new things in it every time I visited.

2. Spaghetti and meatballs, pork chops, and Italian sausage...lovingly called "barnyard spaghetti." She would get a kick out of the fact that I'm a vegetarian now.

3. Her Uncle Sam collection

4. On Thanksgiving, when I walked in the house, I felt like I was walking into an issue of Martha Stewart Living.

5. When I was about five or so, I had a Cabbage Patch doll named Emmy. And when we would go on vacation, Grandmom would "babysit" Emmy. She would even show me the empty jars of baby food when we came home.

6. She'd listen to me talk for hours about school, friends, and things I liked. She made me feel as if I was the most fascinating person in the world.

7. Oh, and another thing about Thanksgiving. She would make me my own special pumpkin pie (one without cream cheese, which I didn't love).

8. And that word, "special." That was her word for me. She always found cards that said "special" somewhere and underlined it.

9. Her laugh

10. On holidays, Papa would try to make me eat "weird foods" (i.e. liver and onions). Grandmom would say, "Oh, Ross, leave her alone."


11. During my first year at Ripon College, she would send me cookies, cards, and other little things.

12. She was the best gift-opener in history. I'm sure that many a time, she received a less-than-desirable gift. But her reaction made it seem as if it was the best gift she had ever gotten.

13. She was constantly on the lookout for things that had my name on them, like pencils and ornaments. She knew those items were rare since my name isn't a common one.

14. At every one of my events, from basketball games to academic awards nights to school plays, she was there.

15. Speaking of basketball, she loved the Bulls, particularly Michael Jordan. She never missed a game when he played.

16. The red "You Are Special Today" plate she put out for the birthday boy or girl.

17. Her larger-than-life personality, complete with blue eyeshadow (hey, it was the 80's) to her fiery red hair.

18. She always knew just what to say. A favorite quote of hers was "This too shall pass."

19. The sights, smells, and sounds of her "Nice Things" gift shop.

20. The fact that Grandmom had a knack for making every human being she came into contact with feel important and worthwhile.

To sum up, she was just pure awesomeness.


Robin Williams


I don't consider my blog to be a place where I share things that will inevitably bring people down or to get on my soapbox, but today, I just can't stay quiet.

Robin Williams died yesterday. He had a creative mind that I always admired. It's not everyone who can seamlessly transition between a housekeeper in drag, a psychologist, and Peter Pan. He couldn't help but let his talent spill out upon whatever project he worked on.

I saw a discussion in one of my LinkedIn groups this afternoon in which the person asked for people to share their thoughts on Robin Williams' death. It opened with, "What happens when celebrities lose their way and think death is the only answer to their problems?"

No one can claim to know the inner workings of anyone's mind, but this person failed to mention something. Yes, he was a celebrity. But he was also just another person wrestling with depression.

Depression is of course a negative force that encompasses one's life. But it's also clever as hell. It's the chemical equivalent of the bully who tries to pressure you to do the exact thing you don't want to do. It seeks out your most vulnerable spots, and almost always succeeds. And if it commands something, at the time it makes perfect sense to your exhausted, weary mind.

How do I know this? I've had my own taste of it.

Every winter, I grapple with Seasonal Affective Disorder. While some people may refer to it as the "winter blues," it's much more than that. It's like a wet, heavy blanket that covers you from head to toe and no matter what you do, you can't pull it off. Every bad thing you've ever believed about yourself rushes to the forefront of your mind. The darkness outside often matches your insides.

And that's just three months a year. My heart goes out to people who face it every day of their lives. You are tougher than you know.

I've never come close to the moment of desperation Robin Williams must have reached, but at the same time, I can understand it. Like I said, in that moment, to a depressed person the thought seems reasonable. Your brain isn't firing the synapses correctly, and you take the form of another human being entirely. The fight goes out in you and you simply give in.

Depression is an incredibly stigmatized health condition. It's fine to discuss diabetes, heart disease, and osteoporosis ad nauseum, but bring up depression, and the room will bristle. I read a statistic today that 5 - 9% of Americans have depression. I believe that number is higher, but only the brave ones are reporting correctly.

If anything good comes out of Robin Williams' passing, I hope that depression is pushed out of its hiding place and into the light. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Let's bring it out into the open.