One week ago, my grandmother died. We laid her to rest on Friday. This past week has been emotional and full of sadness, but also a time to remember the amazing things she taught me. Below is a piece that I read at her wake about the lessons I learned from her. She was an amazing and strong activist.
I recently completed an AmeriCorps program in San Francisco in which we served in various Bay Area communities. During the trainings for the program, we spent a lot of time thinking about the struggles that our parents and grandparents endured to get us, the next generation, to this point and lessons they taught us along the way. It wasn’t until this past year that I realized how right the “Eugene and Lenora Sherman Philosophy” was.
When I was younger, I took pleasure out of torturing my younger brothers Mark and Matthew. Okay, to be honest, I still take pleasure out of it. But when I used to bicker and fight with Mark in Grandma Sherman’s house, she’d pull me to the side and say “Renee,” then there’d be a long pause, that’s when I knew I was about to be yelled at. She’d say, “Renee, stop fightin’ with your brother. One day, he’s all your gonna have in this world.” She would then tell me how she and her younger brother Richard used to fight all the time, but one day, their parents were no longer with them, cousins and other family members moved away or passed on, and all they had were each other. She then encouraged me to spend more time with my brother and my family because in the blink of an eye, they could live an 8-hour car ride away and you’d only see them a few times a year. Now, living 2,000 miles away (a three day car ride), I realize what she meant.
My grandmother was a saver. Growing up during The Great Depression, she learned that you never knew where your next meal was coming from and when everyday items would be in short supply. She saved rubber bands, plastic bags, make-up, all food leftovers, wrapping paper, you name it she saved it. But the one thing she always said to me was “Renee, save your milk! We don’t let anything go to waste in this house.” Now, some say I am a heavy drinker-usually half a gallon a day-yes, that’s my drinking addiction, milk. But she always reminded me to save it, not just for you for later, but for someone else who might be hungry. My grandmother experienced hunger and spent her time volunteering at soup kitchens feeding the homeless. She believed in this “radical” theory that food was a right and that no one should go hungry. To this day, I carry around extra snacks and a large lunch to share with my co-workers. You don’t waste food. You never know who is hungry and who needs what you’ve saved.
My grandmother was the matriarch of our family and a community leader. Though she didn’t get her name in the newspaper everyday, she raised a family and built a community for my late aunt Rita. Rita was the youngest daughter of the Sherman clan who suffered seizures at a young age and lived for over forty years with cerebral palsy. My grandmother took care of Rita in the family’s home when most doctors were suggesting that she place Rita in a mental hospital. Not only did she care for Rita, but she spent her time to help start one of the first group homes for differently-abled people in the Twin Cities. When cleaning out her house a few years ago, my dad found a letter from 1964 she had received from Hubert H. Humphrey in response to a letter that she wrote to him about the impending civil rights legislation. Later in discussions with my uncles, I learned later that she made sure none of her children were using racist or derogatory language towards Black people in her house, a stance not common for a White family in the 1950s or 1960s. It was through these acts that I learned that we are all born with or given certain privileges in this world and as a person with the ability to stand up and speak-out, it is your duty to do so for those who cannot. It is the reason why today as a straight woman, I work in the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender community. It is the reason why my cousins work in the public sector and social justice movements, not for the money or the personal benefits. It is because our grandmother taught us that we have a duty to the rest of humanity to care for others.
Grandma, you are the example of Minnesota Nice. You loved and cared unconditionally, but still gave us the direct and honest advice when we needed to hear it-The Chicago Way. Thank you for the lessons you have taught me. I hope that I can continue to move through the world as you have, sharing my love with those who need it and lending my voice to those who have none. I hope I make you proud.
