Why is it that we only hear the most amazing things about our relatives when they die, most likely in the eulogy at their funeral?

I often claim pride in the strong, hardy women on both sides of my family.  They worked in the fields, raised families, moved to the U.S. with no knowledge of language, and forged a life here for their families.  That information (and some of the details in-between) have been enough to fill me with pride.

But this week I had the chance to learn two new pieces of information that have filled me with awe every minute since I heard them.

My aunt's mother (not a blood relation, but a relative on my dad's side) passed away this week after a long slide into illness and dementia.  Like the rest of both sides of my family, she was in Europe during World War II - Estonia, to be precise (where my father's family is from).  She had incurred a hip injury and was in the hospital in a full body cast.  The hospital, however, was being bombed and so everyone - staff and patients - were being evacuated.  My aunt's mother couldn't be moved due her body cast, though, and so they had to leave her behind.  They apologized and wished her well, but they had to go.

Can you imagine?  Obviously she survived, but still - the chances weren't good.  When people today talk about war and sacrifice, I don't think they think about the things our grandparents went through in WWII.  That was sacrifice.

And yet, I never knew that story.  I have known this woman my whole life and had never heard anything like that.

My father's family was in Estonia during the war and I knew they left in a small fishing boat in the middle of the night with one suitcase for all of them - my grandparents and my dad's two older brothers (my dad wasn't born yet).  I knew this.  What I didn't know was that Russian soldiers were firing at them as they crossed the Baltic Sea.  (Was my grandfather rowing? Was there a motor? I don't even know.)

Again, can you imagine?  Leaving behind nearly everything you own and nearly everyone you know and putting your two sons in a fishing boat and fleeing amid bullets in the middle of the night?  And then to never speak of it?  Today that person would have a book and a talk show tour.  In those days, it was life; it was what you did, and you carried on.

One stray bullet and I would have never known one of my grandparents.  My dad wouldn't be here.  I wouldn't be here.  My nephew, TJ, wouldn't be here.  It's unfathomable to me.

My grandmother died six years ago, but she would have turned 100 this week.  My middle name is her first name.  I hope I never have to be tested in the ways she was, but if I am, I hope I have that strength.

Yes, because today is that day, this is that entry.

Where I was: at work, five miles outside Manhattan, with windows that faced the entire skyline.  Did I see the planes?  No.  Did I see the after-effects?  Some.

They sent us home from work around 11am.  From the highway, I watched the first tower collapse in my sideview mirror.  When I got home, I sat on the sofa with my parents, glued to the television, crying as the remaining tower looked so sad and lost, like an abandoned twin - and then, gasping in horror, shock, and fear as it, too, fell.

Unlike most people in the area, I had to work the next day.  I drove alongside other dazed commuters as we all stared at the gaping hole ripped through our skyline.  (Even today, it still fells like something is missing.)  At the time I worked in a call center (answering benefits questions) and a caller from the midwest was upset that we were closed the previous afternoon.

Her: I called several times but all I got was a recording that you were closed!

Me: Ma'am, did you see the news at all yesterday?

Her: Yes?

Me: We're located five miles outside Manhattan.  Our windows face the city.

Her:  Oh. . . . well, what I wanted to know was...

I was angry - angry that people from other areas just wouldn't be able to understand.  The skyline - not necessarily the city itself, but the actual skyline - feels like a member of the family.  It's always there, unchanging, supportive, constant.  Except now it wasn't, so clearly nothing could ever be again.

At lunchtime, I went out to walk around because I didn't know what else to do with myself.  I went to a local souvenir shop and bought an NYC keychain with the "now old" skyline on it.  The keychain hung in my car for years.

I tied red, white, and blue ribbons to my car's antenna, as a sign of solidarity with my fellow Americans, feeling an intense need for national unity that I had never felt before.  I gave our president a chance I would have never given him otherwise.  I'm glad I did, but I wish I hadn't been wrong.

I have a theory that the two key events of semi-recent political history that have most shaped our current world are 1 - the shooting of Bobby Kennedy and 2 - Watergate.  I think our world would be different beyond what we can imagine if those events hadn't happened.

September 11th has caused a world change we can't even begin to fathom.  Without it, we would not have our current political landscape.  I wonder if it aggravated schisms that were already in existence or if it created new ones.  I'm not sure, but I think it's probably both.

For months afterward, I watched smoke rise from my favorite city in the world.  It was the longest burning structural fire in recorded history.  But so much is still burning, continually being destroyed and rebuilt as a result.

I still have hope that we can rise like a phoenix from the ashes.

Today should be Tuesday so I can do another 7 Quick Takes, but I really don't want it to actually be Tuesday again... but it's one of those days where I have a zillion things on my mind, none of which I want to torture anyone with a full blog post on, so here are The 7 Wonders of Wednesday instead:

1. I really, really dislike (okay, hate) the thing where people think it's cool to disparage someone who has just died.  Fine, you may not be a fan of Sen. Kennedy's politics, so then just keep your trap shut.  What happened to "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything."  You're on my Facebook page and now I think you're an asshole, so good job to you.

2. If anyone says anything to me today about how terrible the idea of universal healthcare is, I may just clock them.  I had to turn down a really wonderful opportunity because it would not allow me to carry health insurance for my husband or any future children at anything less than a prohibitively exorbitant cost.  I should not have to make career decisions based on my healthcare requirements.

3. That said, I was able to refer a good friend for the opportunity and am really hoping she gets it.  Then at least something good will have come of this.

4. When I was trying to make this crazy decision yesterday, I honestly did not know what to do.  I spoke to the hubby and he was just as stuck as I was.  So I called my dad and he talked me through the whole thing.  I am SO very, very lucky to have such a wonderful, giving, intelligent, sensitive man as a dad. 

5. My nephew, TJ, is obsessed with "Pop-Pop" (my dad).  Every time the phone rings, he says, "Pop-Pop?"  He spots him first in every picture and just generally loves the daylights out of him.  My sister took him to visit Pop-Pop at work the other day:

When my sister's husband came home, he asked TJ, "Did you have fun with Pop-Pop today?" and TJ said, "Happy!"  Awwww... Couldn't you just melt?  I was pretty much a puddle when I heard that. But anything that kid does turns me into a puddle.

(And TJ is less than a year and a half old... he looks so much older to me.  He's growing like a weed, as my friend Robin says.)

6. I absolutely adore the whole "Back to School" vibe that goes on at this time of year.  It brings back great memories because I was always so thrilled to go back to school every autumn.  What I don't like is seeing parents say things like, "Haha, time for the kiddos to go back to school - suckers!"  That's just fantastic - instill a hatred of learning in them.  Good parenting.  (Yes, after a short, happy TJ break, we are back to the crank.)

7. I keep one of our wedding thank-you cards on my desk because looking at it makes me happy - so happy that sometimes I start to cry when I look at it (*sigh* - I'm a mess).

my illustrious desk at work

And, yes, that's the thank-you card my dad designed for us.  Isn't it awesome?  I love it so much.

The lesson for today?  When everything is stressing me out, I find a lot of comfort and happiness in my family.  I know that's not true for everyone (and it's certainly not true for all of my family members) but a good family member - or two or three or four - can be a great haven in a storm.

This week I have had the responsibility of attending both a wedding and a wake, big events in the life cycle (right up there with birth).  At both of these events, as much as I tried to just be in the moment, I couldn't help but ponder people's sartorial choices.

Really?  White?  At a wedding?

Really?  White?  At a wake?

I know we live in a time where people wear jeans to the opera.  I've worn jeans to Broadways shows.  College students wear pajamas to class.  Starlets go without underwear.  People buy expensive or fancy or just nice-looking sandals, and then let their crusty, unkempt toes hang out for all to see.

I'm not a body-hair lunatic.  If you're a woman and you're rocking a moustache and you don't care about it, that's fine - you go on with your bad Frida Kahlo self.  But I think you should be required to make a bit of an effort with the hair on top of your head if you are attending a wedding.  At a funeral or wake, you are grieving and I do not expect you to put extraordinary effort into your hair, although I do expect you to be in dark and respectful clothing.

Witnessed this week:

• a guest wearing a white dress at a wedding (not partially white, not a pattern with white in it - a fully white sundress, seriously)
• boobs out for all the world to see - I understand you're young and beautiful and single and at a wedding, but it was very, very difficult for me to carry on a conversation with my husband because I (*I* - not him!) couldn't help but stare at your boobs; they're a beautiful work of nature, to be sure, but could you at least sit up straight?
• a casual Friday work outfit at a wedding where most people were in cocktail attire
• a flouncy miniskirt with no leggings, at a funeral
• leggings but no skirt, same funeral
• v-neck shirts at the funeral that would have only just been appropriate for the wedding

I could go on, but that's a fair enough sampling.  I'm not an etiquette lunatic (although, full disclosure: I do own the 900 page Emily Post etiquette book), but I am a big fan and proponent of decorum.  There are certain times in life when certain sartorial choices are necessary; weddings and funerals are two big ones.

Yes, we are undergoing the great casualization of America and I love my jeans and sneakers as much as the next person, but the situation must warrant the pairing.  Be respectful of the situation.  If you have kids, let them know that the skirt is too short for a wake or that they really should button one more button on their shirt.  If your dress really needs you to put on some Spanx, then put them on.

It's a bit overwhelming to contemplate a marriage and a death in the span of a few days and I apologize for concentrating on this part of it for now, but I do think it's important.  This way, when you get there, you and the other guests can simply focus on the event at hand and celebrate life and love.