Edith Green: 1922-2020
/Elysha’s grandmother, Edith Green, passed away last Sunday. She was 97 years-old.
On Thursday, we honored her memory at a memorial service in New York City. Family from around the country gathered to laugh, cry, and remember Nana in all her glory. Elysha, her father, and others delivered beautiful, heartfelt eulogies.
On Friday morning, Nana was laid to rest in a cemetery in Great Barrington, MA.
As I thought about Nana and her passing, it occurred to me that I’ve only known her for about 15 years, which means I met Nana when she was 82 years-old.
I was astounded.
For most of the time that I knew Nana, she was a lively, engaging woman full of life and energy. When we first met, she still owned homes in New York City, Boca Raton, and the Berkshires, and visited them frequently. She traveled. Attended college classes. Visited with friends. Still dated.
All at the age of 82 and beyond.
It was while staying with Nana in the Boca Raton that I began writing - on a whim - a short story about a man who steals things that go unnoticed. That story would eventually become my first novel, Something Missing, and launched my writing career.
Nana and Elysha were the first to read those early chapters at her kitchen counter. Nerve-wracking moments for a writer who thought he had finally found this groove. After a moment of consideration, Nana declared that they weren’t half bad.
I was thrilled.
Over the years, I tried to spend as much time as possible listening to Nana and her stories when we visited. It wasn’t hard. She was an outspoken, opinionated, hilarious lady with tales in abundance.
On Yom Kippur in 2016, I sat down with Nana in her apartment in NYC and recorded about 30 minutes of her stories using the StoryCorp app, sending the recording of our conversation to the Library of Congress for safekeeping.
I wish I had done that more often.
But early on, I started writing down some of the things that Nana would say to me and others in a note on my phone. Over time, that list grew long. I recently read them to Elysha for the first time.
Some of Nana’s greatest witticisms included:
“If you can’t smile while eating good food, there’s something wrong with you.”
“Old people talk about bodies that don’t deserve to be talked about.”
“Listen, if you can avoid working a single day in your life, do it.”
“If you marry good, you’ll be good.”
She was also so sweet to me, and over the years, said some of the kindest things that have ever been spoken to me by anyone, including:
“You know… you’re the writer of the family. Those are big shoes, sir. Fill them well. We’re depending on you.”
“I’m proud of you, and I know Elysha’s proud of you, but be proud of yourself.”
About four years ago, Nana said this to me while sitting on the edge of her bed in New York. It’s one of the moments I will remember most when I think of her:
“You did it on your own, kid. Didn’t go to work for your father. Didn’t take a hand out. Didn’t inherit a single thing. You did it completely on your own. That’s really something. Better than most. I’m so impressed by you.”
It took all I had not to cry that day, because I knew how much my tears would’ve annoyed her.
When people hear that Nana was 97 years-old when she passed, they often say things like, “She had a long life” or “That was a good run.”
I say it, too.
And it’s true. She lived a long, happy life, and in the end, she asked that her family not be sad. Her time had come.
But the world is a little less bright today because Nana is gone.
On the day of her funeral, Elysha and others managed to wrangle all eight of Nana’s great-grandchildren onto the sofa for a photo. The first time all eight had gathered in one space.
Edith Green’s legacy. We should all be so lucky.
Rest in peace, Nana.
