Attitude is Everything - A Thanksgiving Memory Filled with Love, Life, and Laughter

Wherever she is right now, she's probably dancing!

Attitude is the difference between an ordeal and an adventure.

It was a tag line on an email message that Larry read to me last night. It got me thinking about Marguerite Brodie, and I'd like to share a little bit about her on this day of Thanksgiving. She embodied the spirit of this day. Time spent with Marguerite was all about adventure. She loved life, even though hers had to have been an ordeal sometimes. She never let it show.

Her wish was that she be remembered. Since she was the kind of person who squeezed all the juice out of life, remembering her is a pleasure. This one's for you, Marguerite. Oh to have an ounce of your plucky spirit!

Marguerite Ann Brodie taught me a lot about life.  Not the schmaltzy, sugar-coated Robert Fulghum "Take a nap and eat cookies" lessons, either. 

I'm talking about how to hold your head up and breathe when life gives you a swift kick to the groin.  

Marguerite could have been bitter and angry and depressed. She could have viewed life as an ordeal, but she didn't have time for that.  When life handed her a shit sandwich, she tossed out the unsavory bits, slathered a healthy layer of butter on the bread, and took a big healthy bite. And gave you a shit eating grin while she did it.  Pun intended. 

I met Marguerite one evening when I was working at the Portland Women's Crisis Line.  The last line of my job description had that sentence... You probably know it..... "Other duties as assigned." On this particular occasion, I was assigned to go with one of our volunteers to pick up our newest board member for the monthly meeting.

Marguerite had been in a wheelchair for a few years. She had  Friedreich's ataxia, a genetically inherited disease that causes progressive damage to the nervous system, resulting in symptoms ranging from gait disturbance to speech problems.

Marguerite dealt with both.  She couldn't walk... however, she was very strong. Her speech was halting and sometimes difficult to comprehend, but her mind was sharp as a razor. She was funny, insightful, kind, and INCREDIBLY resilient.

Marguerite endured our inelegant attempts to get her out of her wheelchair, into the car, back into the wheelchair, and up a flight of stairs to the board meeting.  What made me completely fall in love with her was her laughter. That made it all easy and rewarding, and perfect!

That laugh... How do I describe it? She laughed with every ounce of her being.  Her entire body rocked, and her laugh was perhaps louder on the in breath than the out breath. She was a delight, and she could find humor in the most awkward situations.  

....Like one of the first times I tried to lift her by myself.  We ended up in a dog pile on the sidewalk and had to be rescued by a kind bystander.  Of course, we laughed about it for the rest of the afternoon, and I was teased about it for months. 

Moshe Feldenkrais taught that we act in accordance with our self image.  If that's true, Marguerite saw herself as a dancer.  A powerful, organizing, unapologetic dancer with a heart as big as the planet. I know that wherever she is now, she's probably dancing.  Naked.

When she left us all in 1997, there was one hell of a memorial service. Hundreds of people showed up to remember her remarkable life.

Here are some rules for living that Marguerite exemplified:

Care. Ask people about their lives. Marguerite totally cared about people.  No matter what her personal situation was, she couldn't wait to ask people about whatever they were doing, and she listened.  She not only listened, but she heard. She wasn't just waiting you out long enough to be able to get her next words into the conversation.  She would remember whatever people told her and asked about it. She made us all feel like we were the most important people in the world. She volunteered and did a lot of work for the community.

Recruit.  Marguerite demonstrated that it's okay to ask for help. She had a cadre of us who happily helped her get out of bed every morning, get breakfast, get through the day, and get to bed at night.  It never felt like work. 

Be Organized. It was amazing to see how well she could use an hour of a person's time. From the moment of arrival until the moment of departure, there were a million little tasks. She had a list of honey-do's prepared in a very systematic and efficient order. In an hour and a half, you could get her on and off the commode, dressed, fed, laundry done, and recycling sorted. And sometimes there were tasks like planting bulbs.  We were handsomely paid by her uncanny ability to let us know she really appreciated what we did for her. She wrote us cards, baked treats, and smiled.  If you took Marguerite out in the evening, the final task would be getting her to bed: tucking her in with a kiss good night on her forehead, turning off the bedside lamp, tiptoeing out in the dark.  It was the chance to get to love her back a little.

Get Out and Live Your Life!  Marguerite didn't let her wheelchair confine her or define her. She worked around it. There were always enough people to help get her here and there.  She loved going to marches and rallies. For several years, I pushed her chair in the Gay Pride parade. She loved to be toward the front so that when we got to Waterfront park, she could sit and watch the parade arriving at the final destination. We went to the movies and sometimes had to struggle with how to navigate entering and exiting places. That led to some wild adventure moments!

Back What You Believe In.  Marguerite went to rallies and fund raisers. She was on the Board of Directors for the Portland Women's Crisis Line. She organized the newsletter for the Portland Women's International League for Peace and Freedom. (WILPF). She used the "L" word in the newsletter as often as she could.  When Lon Mabon was wreaking havoc on the state of Oregon, she had "NO on 9 buttons made with black triangles. She handed me one, winked,  and told me she paid for it with the money she saved on people working for her for free.

Laugh.  Extra points for snorting! I can't remember a visit with Marguerite that wasn't heaped with dollops of laughter. 

Don't skimp on the butter. When I made Marguerite's breakfast, she always asked for toast.It needed butter.  Real butter.  Whenever I was done, she would ask to see, and would inevitably say, "More." When I was at her memorial service, a woman got up to say a few words.  She had only known Marguerite a short time. She began by saying, "I didn't know much about Marguerite, but I did learn this. Marguerite loved butter."  There were hundreds of people in the room, and we all burst out laughing.  I realized that probably all of us who had gathered to remember her had made toast for her at one time or another, and all of us had been given the one word instruction:  "More!"  A quick calculation led to this conclusion:  We all made a shitload of toast for that woman!!  Whenever I make toast, I spread the butter generously and I silently toast Marguerite. Pun intended. It would have made her laugh.  Possibly snort.

Be yourself.  She had a sign on her door that she had typed on her typewriter in wavy lines...  "Dull women have neat houses." She lived life on her terms.  When the guy at the March of Dimes home refused to honor her request that she have female attendants, she moved out and found a way to get friends to help her live her life in a manner that suited her and her needs. She didn't fuss. She didn't complain. She got organized.  She used the "L" word as many times as she could when editing the WILPF newsletter. And that made her laugh!  We also laughed at the people who thought she was stupid because of her speech. And the people who thought she was weak because she was in a wheelchair. She knew who she was.

Be Memorable. A few weeks after her memorial service, I received a call from a friend of Marguerite's. She told me that more than anything, Marguerite wanted to be remembered, and she wanted me to have the lamp from her bedside table.. The one that we put out each night after we tucked her in and kissed her good night. 

Marguerite, I hope that you can take a moment from your dancing in heaven to note that today, you are held in loving memory. Not only in the hearts and minds of those who had the honor of knowing and loving you, but also from the people reading this and getting a sense of living life with gusto, and without apology. Maybe they'll hold you in their thoughts today as they butter their rolls.  Generously.  

I know I will.  Happy Thanksgiving, and pass the butter, please!!