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2008-01-13 - 10:44 p.m.

I've put this off for far too long. The holidays were a very bittersweet time this year. My grandmother passed away on December 20th, the same day I was to fly down to Albuquerque for my Christmas vacation. I was at work when my mother called to tell me that I needed to get to Denver as soon as possible. A couple frantic phone calls to the airline later, and my flight is changed, but my ride to the airport was a coworker, and I didn't have time anymore to just go home before heading down there, so I was stuck at work, waiting, in what I can honestly say was the longest three hours of my life.

We all gathered in Denver for the funeral. It was the first time I had seen any of my uncles or my aunt in at least two years, and the first time all six of my grandmothers children (yes, six of them) were all together since 2002, at my dad's funeral. Ironically enough, Grandma couldn't be there for that gathering, either, as Dad had told her that he'd be mighty upset with her if she let a little thing like his funeral stop her from taking her planned vacation to Greece with her boyfriend.

This was hard, and I think a lot of it was because it was so sudden. With Dad it was a long time in coming, which, while hard, is different, in a way that feels like peeling off a band-aid slowly. This was like when you slip on an icy patch and fall flat on your back and you're lying there stunned for a few seconds trying to figure out what just happened and why your head hurts all of a sudden.

I admired my grandmother a great deal. Mary Hutton raised six children by herself, on a teacher's salary, and all of them finished high school. Not to say that they were model citizens (this is my family we're talking about here, the same people that had the biggest hand in raising me into the me I am today) but things could have turned out a lot worse for everyone if she hadn't been so strong willed. She was brilliant, and she'd make sure you knew it, too. She was the only person I've ever heard of who had and wore a scarf which proudly proclaimed her membership in Mensa. She played a large role in the directions I took with my life, mainly because she never retired from being MY English teacher. She always had a new book for me to read. She took me to the theatre as a child more times than I can remember. In fact, the first play I remember being really excited about seeing was when I was about 14. She took me to see The Tempest at the outdoor Boulder Shakespeare Festival. The next year we saw The Would-Be Gentleman by Moliere. In high school, when I began to get serious as an actor, she was actually probably encouraged me to keep exploring and studying it more than anyone else I knew.

When I graduated from Ripon, I opted not to bother going to my commencement ceremony because it didn't really hold any meaning for me. Grandma and I had a long talk about it, and she told me that that was fine, but that the commencement was as much for the people who love you as it is for you, so that they can see you formally complete what you had been working so hard on, and that I had to give have something to mark the time that represented the successful completion of my college career.

I was given a contract right out of school to work for a summerstock theatre in River Falls, WI, playing roles in three shows, among them my first performance in Greater Tuna (this was as the actual two man version, which was just huge) So I told Grandma that that would be it, and that it would mean the most to me if people could see me actually get paid to perform for the first time in my life, so she and my mom and one of the uncles made the trip up that summer to see the shows. They caught the last night of You Can't Take It With You and the opening night of Greater Tuna. It was definitely one of the proudest moments of my life, having her there for that.

During You Can't Take It With You, a relay blew at the campus because of a storm, and all the lights went out in the middle of the second act, while I was on stage. Talk about a fun time at a live show. I was able to do some (shameless self-promotion) brilliant improvising to keep things together for the 3 or so minutes it took for the lights to come back up (felt like 3 hours) and was roundly praised by many for being so quick on my feet. After the show, Grandma congratulated me on my "commencement ceremony" and then immediately launched into a critique of my performance, explaining that while I was good, my Russian accent was inconsistent at times and that it could use a little more work. She never stopped teaching, and she never stopped trying to make things better.

She was fiery and passionate and she cared deeply about a lot of things. I was charged with going through a lot of her paperwork early on to separate out the things we would need for tax and estate settling purposes later, and I was astonished at the number of receipts for charitable doneations she had made. It wasn't just one or two charities- she gave money to about 30 different causes in the last couple years, and none of them were small donations. Among the organizations that had her mailing address was the Republican National Committe (she was convinced it was my aunt who signed her up as a joke).

This was funny, because my grandmother was probably the staunchest Democrat who ever lived, a fact her boyfriend asks us all to remember come November. The last letter she ever wrote was a response to the fundraising solicitation she had gotten from the RNC, mailed back to them using their own prepaid envelope.

"As a member of the leftist horde intent on class warfare, I thank you for the opportunity to waste some Republican National Committee funds. I don't know how you got my name, but please keep sending me pre-paid envelopes.

Since I hold the RNC accountable for the Swift Boat attacks that gave another term to the most arrogant, ignorant, and incompetent president we have ever had, anything that will bleed money from your coffers is a step in the right direction. As your letter says, every little bit helps."

It was hard to kiss you goodbye, Grandma. I miss you a lot.

Love,
Ken

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