Not a fan of Face Book (I’ve been off it since 2010) I’m always thrilled when someone I’ve worked with or created with in the past finds me via “Google” search.
The latest person to find me is a musician/photographer/filmmaker named Tom who I worked with briefly in the mid 1990s to create film footage of my spoken word art. And Tom also took the black and white photo of me that I’ve used a few times in my blogs, where I am holding up the “Please Kill Me Book” and purposely looking forlorn.
Interesting enough, Tom discovered my talents on the saddest, worst day of my life.
It was late January, 1995, and my beloved Grandmother passed away on the day I was scheduled to do a spoken word show at a night club in Newark, the warm-up act to two gothic bands. My friend Lou was the singer in one of them. Another friend Ken was in the other. Tom was the drummer in Lou’s band, but I actually didn’t meet Tom that night.
When I told Lou the bad news that afternoon that my grandmother passed, he said, “Aww, sweetie, you don’t have to perform tonite.”
I said, “I want to. Grandma would want that.” And she would have. She absolutely LOVED going to my spoken word and poetry shows. Even in a wheel chair, we always had someone strong enough to carry her up a few flights of stairs so she could see her granddaughter perform. She was my biggest fan and she came to every show, whether it was in an art gallery or a night club, she was there.
When the Star Ledger did a write up of one of my performances, saying that I performed “dramatic monologues and the audience was so captivated you could hear a pin drop” my Grandmother looked up at my mom, after reading the paper, and said to her, “She’s making it, isn’t she?”
I never “made it” with spoken word, but I’ve been blessed to have a writing career most of my adult life in journalism.
So, the night of my performance, the night of my grandmother’s death, I was really out of it. I drank like a fish, yet delivered some great stuff. People that didn’t even like me as a person, appreciated my work and that made me happy when the news got back to me. You have to give some people credit for honesty. It takes a big person to admit they like something even if they don’t like the person.
I left early with my friends, but Lou later told me he dedicated his set to my Grandmother.
A few months later Tom contacted me, saying how great my performance was and that he wanted to work together. He got my number from Lou and we spent an entire summer doing creative things, including working with some of my other creative friends. I still have the film footage stashed away in the basement somewhere.
Now 18 years later, I hear from Tom, out of the blue, via Google. Which also means that it’s been 18 years this month since my Grandmother died. I was only 31 when she died. And just think in a few years it will be 20 years since she died, then 30 and then there will be a day when I can say my Grandmother was out of my life for more years than she was in it. How sad that time just goes on.
And for anyone who says time heals all wounds is either a liar
or someone who hasn’t loved another as much as I adored my Grandmother!
Time does not heal! You miss the person more and more over the years. But on a positive note, you also grow closer because the bond was so tight that the lessons the person taught you keeps inspiring you over the years to be the best person you can be.
Last night my husband turned me on the movie, “It’s a Wonderful Life.”
I never saw it before and it made sense in so many ways. How one life touches another and another and another. When you have the right line of people, it can be a snowball effect of positive, dynamic things. My friend Lou always said, “Another life touched by Maryanne Christiano.”
My husband says that all the time too. “Look how many lives you touch. How many people you make happy.”
And I feel the same about him. And that is true of ALL OF US! We all make people happy. I know my loved ones make me more happy than they will ever realize.
A friend I’ve always admired once said, “Remember, people love to hear from you.” And this very friend once called me out of the blue when I modeled for a guitar ad. “That ad is killer!” he said and I knew who it was immediately! It certainly put a smile on my face when a talented person called me out of the blue to say they liked the work I did! (And modeling is very hard work!)
THIS is why, when people reach out to you, no matter how “busy” you are (I put “busy” in quote because I hate that word, as people now use it as a status symbol … eww!) just drop everything for one freakin’ second and let that person feel cared about and important!
When my Grandmother died, I had no regrets because I always visited her, always called her and always made her feel loved.
And I’ve carried this tradition with me to all my friends. I am always reaching out to people, unless they have a problem with me and don’t want to be my friend for whatever silly reason, because I am THE BEST and I know it because I act straight from the heart.
Think about your own life, how it would be if you weren’t around … like in “It’s a Wonderful Life” … what would people’s worlds be like without you? Believe me, it would be a big void! YOU are more important and more loved than you will ever know.
And by Tom reaching out to me, deep down I feel it’s my Grandmother watching over me. What a coincidence that he reaches out on the same month he first saw my performance when my Grandmother died.
When you read that old corny poem that has the line, “someone is thinking about you right now” it is so true — whether they are alive and well, or an angel watching over you.
And while people don’t use the old “reach out and touch someone” method via telephone anymore, not to worry, Google is just as effective.
Is there someone you’ve been thinking about lately? Someone who inspired you, touched your life? Don’t add them as a friend on Face Book, that’s a cheapo way out and merely a cheap thrill. Google his/her name and send them an email — which is worth more than it’s weight in gold.
Thanks Tom, for Googling me and reminding me of my Grandmother.