I will often get laughed at because of my great love for audiobooks, specifically books on cd. In fact, when I told the car dealer I wanted to pay extra to have a cd player in my newly leased car, he bit back a chuckle as he quoted me the price. He explained the benefit of streaming and all the technological things and I responded by thanking him but advising that while I would avail myself of all of it, I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the pleasure of a book on cd. Not yet.
Why? Well, call me nostalgic. And also, my grandmother was the first person I ever met who listened to books on tape and eventually, cd. She used to listen to them in the car while zipping around or on her stereo at home while relaxing in the evening.
Contrary to what you may be thinking right now, this isn’t a diatribe on the magic that is literacy or an ode to my love of reading. Though, we all know I can wax poetically about such things from now into the next millennia. This is something different. As always, I’ll ask that you bear with me.
Burt, Gram’s boyfriend, invited her to a book group when I was in high school. It just so happened that I was at her house one evening when she was preparing to host. She and Burt were talking as she laid out snacks and I overheard him suggest to her that she not mention she finished the most recently assigned book by listening to it. She asked why and he suggested that it would not reflect well upon her amongst this group of self-proclaimed intellectuals. I was fuming. I didn’t even understand the full implications of their communication but I was pissed that Burt felt comfortable putting Gram down. Who gives a fuck how someone finishes a book? Amazon, the library, a book store, a television show, an audio recording. Wasn’t it all the same shit? Wasn’t it just someone finding their own special way to tell a story?
I was leaving that evening before the book group commenced but what I had overheard stayed with me. It grated on my nerves and was a bug up my butt until the following week when I saw her again. I went back and forth several times but finally decided to ask Gram how she dealt with the whole audiobook business. You know what she did when I asked about it? She laughed. She called them a bunch of snobs and told me that of course she told them she finished the book on cd.
When I asked how they reacted to her admission, she told me that it was much in the way that I would expect. I told her that I didn’t really expect much of anything and asked her to share her perspective. She told me that it was evident that they were judging her so before anyone could say anything, she expressed to them that a book on cd is still a book. Even when she was relaying the story to me, there was an air of defiance in her stance and fire in her eyes. She had challenged them to dispute this notion. How could they? Even though they were clearly disapproving of the concept of a book on cd, it was indeed still a book. All the words of the book were present in the recording. What could they say? That somehow the experience of listening to the book diminished its message? Gram said that she also asked them if they caught every single word of the books they read. As the intelligent and functional human brain has the ability to string words together and make sense of them, isn’t it possible that they would miss a word here or there and still get the gist? She expressed that there were times that she felt that she was able to absorb even more of a book by listening to it because the reader giving voice to the book often infused the words with a certain emotionality that might have only been inferred when reading the same words on paper.
I secretly loved this push back for a variety of reasons, but mostly because I knew the book club often mistreated Gram. Comprised of educators, psychologists, and other such white collar professionals, they looked down their noses at her. They didn’t celebrate her education, her career as a social worker, or the vast knowledge she accumulated in her travels around the world. They tolerated her because she was Burt’s significant other. As her loyal grandchild (even though she pissed me off sometimes), this burned my blood. Jerks. Elitists. Unappreciative buffoons. But whenever I tried to share my feelings with her, she shut me down. I thought for a long time that she was avoiding the conversation because it embarrassed her. I had this idea that she didn’t feel good about herself, and this group of people reinforced those feelings, and for that reason, she permitted their terrible treatment. If we are accurately relaying history, I felt this way because that had certainly been the circumstance with other folks.
Later on, I came to realize that the book club was not one of those situations. Not at all. These people, even though they were important to Burt, were not important to her. Not even a little. What bothered her is when Burt espoused the same feelings or values as his book club, because his opinion DID matter. As for what this group of people thought about her book on cd, she just didn’t give a shit. She was somehow able to compartmentalize and put these folks in a category that felt fitting. The ‘you are super unimportant to me’ bucket.
Outside of the love I have for books on audio, what did this teach me? We all assign value to the things and people in our lives. What is of critical importance to me may not be as important to another human. That’s okay. I don’t need to judge what they’ve assigned value to and I would like to think that we can share a mutual respect so that it flows in the other direction. And when it doesn’t, that is where we need to consider the importance of a person or people in our life.
I can’t think of a more important lesson right now, as this country is so divided and we are all tearing each other to shreds. Choose wisely when you choose your people. Cut people slack. Take people seriously but not personally. Walk away if a relationship brings more pain than joy. All of it.
For most of my life Harriet was an absolute force. Her lessons (these five being a drop in the bucket) have resonated with me for the entire time I’ve lived on this planet. Her brilliance, courage, and determination never cease to amaze me, to this day. She was frustrating and admirable in her single-mindedness. She would have lost her shit if you she could plug into how insane people are acting right now. She loved so hard in a way that was both discerning and indiscriminate. I like to think that so much of who she was lives within me and pushes me to love harder, try harder, be better, and do more.
I may wear sweats from time to time, but I always throw on mascara and have a ready smile for whoever I run into. I work incredibly hard at developing, nourishing, and salvaging my relationships. I can’t say that I’ve ever given up without a fight. Sometimes I fight too hard and for too long, but I’d rather be that human. I take great care in the enhancement of my food, as well as my relationships with other humans. I constantly seek to explore and know the world around me, even when it’s been made temporarily smaller. I love the things I love without excuses, explanation, or embarrassment.
In our disagreements and through her love, I found parts of myself that I didn’t even know existed. I miss her now. I’ll love her forever.
This week is dedicated to my grandmother, Harriet Heller. May the rest of her years on this planet be as peaceful as a higher power will grant.
Have a lovely weekend.
Talk to you next week.
L.
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