Gratitude

I remember Anna from college. Her and Emilio and Nelson and I don't remember who else would have me over for dinner in their big shambling house. Lauren was there usually and Julia and Hannah. Great tasting food was served in heaping portions, and I would drink wine until I was happily drunk. The thing I loved most was that everyone who came had some particular brand of eccentricity or quark, some creative dis-ease, and were equally embraced as part of this wonderful extended family. It was a safe place, where I remember breathing easier, outside all the self-judgement of that time in my life. I always thought that Anna set the tone. She was like a mother, even then, regal in her idiosyncrasy and understanding. She was solid, playful, wise, generous, and passionate. She embodied the values I've always cherished, and brought them into those settings in a palpable, nonjudging way: integrity, generosity, community, hope. She did it with so much love, was instrumental in creating and holding this space. I loved her for that, and for the closeness she made possible. I always felt some recognition of the type that goes unexplained in this little life, one of those big essential feelings that seems too obvious and deep and healing and real for words. The word that says it best is gratitude.

--From Frank M., a friend from Reed, who sent this memory to Nina last fall