October 29, 2010
Guilt
Feeling guilt is both crippling and defeating all at once. You become paralyzed, and feel your only recourse is to act in self-harm. Not in a drastic way, of course, but to me, and to my losing weight quest, what's the difference.
Here's what I mean:
Here's what I mean:
Today I ate a Timbit from a box someone left out as a treat. One of these:
JUST ONE. It was festive, for Halloween, with orange and black sprinkles.
As soon as I finished it, I felt good, like a little bump in my adrenaline. Something inside had been satisfied.
About 5 seconds later though - the feeling was gone. Long gone. And I felt something horrible:
-Anxiety. Deep seeded anxiety, complete with churning and restlessness.
-Panic. What did I do? What the hell was I thinking? I have my amazingly healthy breakfast there waiting for me! I ATE A FUCKING DONUT!?
And then, our dear friend steps into my mind, my fellow Weight-Battling-Compatriots:
Guilt.
Instantly, these are the thoughts I hear:
"You are worthless, and this whole donut thing is a microcasm of what you are as a person - inconsistent, flakey, and a waste. You are wasting your life! You're 27 and you are morbidly obese. You will ALWAYS be morbidly obese! You CHOSE to be in an industry and career of beautiful, thin, talented people, and you are NONE of those, with a bullet. You know how you've felt especially like a big fatty-fat-fat person this past week? IT'S BECAUSE YOU ARE. You are still [insert number here] pounds! DO NOT forget that! So enjoy your donut, Fatty Man, because that's pretty much par for the course with you!"
(that really happened in my head.)
Boom. The aftermath.
Ahh, Jesus, I guess that's right. This is stupid. I should just have another donut, because I know eating food will make me feel better. See above diagram - there's that inital physical gratification. If I keep eating, too, it will elongate the high, and when I'm full and distended, I can at least focus on that physical feeling than my own demons.
The cycle above that I described in the diagram, one that I know all too well from since I was a little child, was back again.
So reach for another Timbit donut....
No way. I did not.
I broke the cycle.
You know, everyone I see has been telling me the noticeable difference in my appearance these past few months. So today, my friend Karly said as much when we spoke, and it was right during my darkest thoughts, and I realized something:
I realized that I work too hard. And proof is there. It's everywhere. And that I love myself too much to choose destruction. I choose Life. And, the most important thing I remembered: YOU ALWAYS HAVE A CHOICE. ALWAYS.
So, I ate my healthy breakfast, which was this:
and this:
And guess what? I still got the high I normally do from eating (which I will have to address someday), but no guilt. None. No feelings of self-hatred. None. I chose LIFE, and was rewarded by the benefits of the choice.
So I move forward, armed with this new mentality, and will fight that much harder the next time Mr. Guilt pays me a visit.
October 26, 2010
October 21, 2010
Snapshots
Me, in May of 2009. Who knows how much I weighed.
The "X" I'm making in this photo is so appropriate. I reject this.
Look at my neck. Or lackthereof. Look at my HANDS.
Where did my chin go? I used to have one!
My eyes almost seem to say "Get me out of here!"
NEVER AGAIN.
Me, today:
25% there. And hey, there's my chin. I knew it disappeared somewhere. Glad I found it.
Who knew it would be so easy at times?
Long way to go, but these photos will motivate me.
Have a wonderful day.
The "X" I'm making in this photo is so appropriate. I reject this.
Look at my neck. Or lackthereof. Look at my HANDS.
Where did my chin go? I used to have one!
My eyes almost seem to say "Get me out of here!"
NEVER AGAIN.
Me, today:
25% there. And hey, there's my chin. I knew it disappeared somewhere. Glad I found it.
Who knew it would be so easy at times?
Long way to go, but these photos will motivate me.
Have a wonderful day.
Space in the Sky
A polite reminder to self
You are on your own path
Nobody else's
And you cannot judge your progress
On your path
Against
Someone else's path
Moreover,
There are plenty of space in the sky
The airwaves
Enough venues
Enough listening ears
Enough song lyrics
To Go Around
Those around you are your brother
And Sister
So be well
Be supportive
And accept support
But do not
DO
NOT
Panic.
You are in your skin
For the first time
In 27 years
And you work too damn hard.
You are on your own path
Nobody else's
And you cannot judge your progress
On your path
Against
Someone else's path
Moreover,
There are plenty of space in the sky
The airwaves
Enough venues
Enough listening ears
Enough song lyrics
To Go Around
Those around you are your brother
And Sister
So be well
Be supportive
And accept support
But do not
DO
NOT
Panic.
You are in your skin
For the first time
In 27 years
And you work too damn hard.
"St. Patrick's Day" by John Mayer
One of my most favorite songs for this time of year.
Here comes the cold
Break out the winter clothes
And find a love to call your own
You - enter you
Your cheeks a shade of pink
And the rest of you in powder blue
Who knows what will be
But I'll make you this guarantee
No way November will see our goodbye
When it comes to December it's obvious why
No one wants to be alone at Christmas time
In the dark, on the phone
You tell me the names of your brothers
And your favorite colors
I'm learning you
And when it snows again
We'll take a walk outside
And search the sky
Like children do
I'll say to you
No way November will see our goodbye
When it comes to December it's obvious why
No one wants to be alone at Christmas time
And come January we're frozen inside
Making new resolutions a hundred times
February, won't you be my valentine?
And we'll both be safe 'til St. Patrick's Day
We should take a ride tonight around the town
and look around at all the beautiful houses
something in the way that blue lights on a black night
can make you feel more
everybody, it seems to me, just wants to be
just like you and me
No one wants to be alone at Christmas time
Come January we're frozen inside
Making new resolutions a hundred times
February, won't you be my valentine?
And if our always is all that we gave
And we someday take that away
I'll be alright if it was just 'til St. Patrick's Day
October 20, 2010
My New Friend, Number 2.
I lost 14 pounds since my last visit with the Nutritionist. Making my sum total 23 pounds overall. I don't know if you heard me....
I LOST FOURTEEN POUNDS SINCE MY LAST VISIT WITH THE NUTRITIONIST.
That was 4 weeks ago! I've now lost over TWENTY-THREE POUNDS.
Here's what that means:
In two months, I now weigh less than I ever have since moving to New York. That was 4 2/3rd years ago.
In two months, I undid FIVE YEARS of horrible food choices, reckless living, and sedentary life.
In two months, I now stand with a new number in front of my weight for the first time in 4 years: the number 2.
That has been the most relieving part. The number 2.
The number 3 was so daunting, so abysmal, and so lonely. It meant stagnant water. It meant extra blue cheese dressing. It meant growing and growing and growning out of control. It meant unattractive, disgusting, huge.
The number 2 though, has got something going for him. I want to end up with number 2 still in front of my weight, but with his buddies 1 and 0 to follow respectively. Long way to go, but me and number 2 are new friends, and he's going to come along with me as I work towards this. Number 3, however, is banished. Never returning. Not on my watch. Number 3 has done ENOUGH.
Does that make sense? NUMBER 3 IS NOT WELCOME. GOOD DAY, SIR.
All of this is absolutely me boasting, but not to anyone reading this. No, I boast to my Irrational Mind. The 5 year old boy inside me. The part of me that disregards logic, reason, and moderation. The part of me that only seeks to satisfy fleeting cravings, seeks out temporary fixes, and throws tantrums when self-denial or reason win out.
SO HERE YOU GO. COLD HARD PROOF. YOUR WAY DOESN'T WORK! YOU HAVE FAILED, AND I HAVE WON. NEXT TIME YOU PIPE UP, I'M BREAKING OUT MY FRIEND, NUMBER 2, TO SHOW YOU HOW WRONG YOU ARE.
By Memorial Day of next year, I will weigh 210 pounds. It's happening, and I will myself to do it. I will fight, minute-to-minute, and hour-to-hour, but I will absolutely succeed. And I will always battle, even when I get to where I want to be. I will never be done fighting.
But I am now armed with the mindset I need, backed up by cold hard DATA! Proof to validate the inward thoughts and self-control. I am armed with an ever evolving wardrobe, out of necessity, and plan to hang on to old jeans and shirts as a reminder. I may even frame them.
But there is no stopping this train. In never stops. And I am living the change I sought, and fighting every day to make good decisions. I am winning, and I will continue to win.
I LOST FOURTEEN POUNDS SINCE MY LAST VISIT WITH THE NUTRITIONIST.
That was 4 weeks ago! I've now lost over TWENTY-THREE POUNDS.
Here's what that means:
In two months, I now weigh less than I ever have since moving to New York. That was 4 2/3rd years ago.
In two months, I undid FIVE YEARS of horrible food choices, reckless living, and sedentary life.
In two months, I now stand with a new number in front of my weight for the first time in 4 years: the number 2.
That has been the most relieving part. The number 2.
The number 3 was so daunting, so abysmal, and so lonely. It meant stagnant water. It meant extra blue cheese dressing. It meant growing and growing and growning out of control. It meant unattractive, disgusting, huge.
The number 2 though, has got something going for him. I want to end up with number 2 still in front of my weight, but with his buddies 1 and 0 to follow respectively. Long way to go, but me and number 2 are new friends, and he's going to come along with me as I work towards this. Number 3, however, is banished. Never returning. Not on my watch. Number 3 has done ENOUGH.
Does that make sense? NUMBER 3 IS NOT WELCOME. GOOD DAY, SIR.
All of this is absolutely me boasting, but not to anyone reading this. No, I boast to my Irrational Mind. The 5 year old boy inside me. The part of me that disregards logic, reason, and moderation. The part of me that only seeks to satisfy fleeting cravings, seeks out temporary fixes, and throws tantrums when self-denial or reason win out.
SO HERE YOU GO. COLD HARD PROOF. YOUR WAY DOESN'T WORK! YOU HAVE FAILED, AND I HAVE WON. NEXT TIME YOU PIPE UP, I'M BREAKING OUT MY FRIEND, NUMBER 2, TO SHOW YOU HOW WRONG YOU ARE.
By Memorial Day of next year, I will weigh 210 pounds. It's happening, and I will myself to do it. I will fight, minute-to-minute, and hour-to-hour, but I will absolutely succeed. And I will always battle, even when I get to where I want to be. I will never be done fighting.
But I am now armed with the mindset I need, backed up by cold hard DATA! Proof to validate the inward thoughts and self-control. I am armed with an ever evolving wardrobe, out of necessity, and plan to hang on to old jeans and shirts as a reminder. I may even frame them.
But there is no stopping this train. In never stops. And I am living the change I sought, and fighting every day to make good decisions. I am winning, and I will continue to win.
October 19, 2010
2 months.
Two months ago I read an article about a Philadelphia Eagles offensive lineman who had laparoscopic gastric band surgery to lose weight, and dropped approximately 100 pounds. Two months ago I decided enough was enough, that I need not always look the way I do, and I would do something about it. Two months ago, I rejected an obese lifestyle, and an obese me. Two months ago, I chose health. I chose life.
And look where it got me.
I sit here today, in new clothes, that would have never fit me. I notice my face, my chest, my waist have all shrunken enough that I notice it. Clothing I had grown out of, not fits me again.
I eat heartily. Probably more than I did before. But I treat unhealthy food like I am allergic to it, or that it is like a form of poison. I avoid it at almost all costs.
I realize that everyday, despite any transgressions from the night before, that I once again have a choice every morning to choose health. This used to be a tremendous burden, and it has turned into a blessing over time. No slip up is continuous. It is fleeting, and I can immediately get back on the ride towards 210 pounds of total weight.
My belly, once constantly distended, is now much more "jiggly". This is because of my losing inches, and less stress being placed on the muscles and fascia there.
I have a supportive group of friends in both music and life that embrace my decisions, and support them through their words, actions, and meal choices.
Food is no longer something I obsess over for enjoyment. It is a tool I use to get things done. Like sneakers, like a laptop, etc. I enjoy it just like I enjoy those other things, but it does not own me.
I buy groceries all the time now, and eat fresh fruit and vegetables every single day. This was a rarity for me in the past.
My digestive tract has improved immensely. Gone are the horrible constipations, painful bowel movements, and "runs". Gone is the heartburn, the horrible stinging burps, the stomach cramps. Gone is the churning of my insides after a high-fat meal, as it attempts to move things out of my body as soon as possible. So gone, all these things, that until I thought about them just now, I realized they hadn't been there for ages.
All this is possible because of knowledge. Knowing exactly what goes in, always, and never distorting or lying about it, even if it makes you look bad. A chicken wing, or pizza, is always a chicken wing, or a pizza, and as guilty as I feel entering it into my food diary, I am always so thankful I did. I will look back, and cringe at it, and remind myself how fleeting that moment was. I will remind myself that I work too hard to try to derail this train.
This has been the most important revelation: when I feel hungry, it usually means I'm thirsty. So I drink water or some other non-calorie drink to help satisfy that urge. Usually, it's then gone.
Every morning, I eat yogurt with a nice helping of honey, and apple, and a banana: 360 calories. I'm full until around 1pm, and if I'm still hungry, it usually means I'm thirsty, so I have some unsweetened hot Earl Grey tea.
For lunch, I have a variety of foods, but a solid staple has been a 6-inch Subway Club sandwich on wheat bread, with swiss cheese, sweet peppers, salt, pepper, oregano, and lite mayonnaise. Then a bag of Baked Lay's potato chips: 520 calories.
That usually leaves me with about 700 calories for the rest of the day, which usually goes in the form of 500 for dinner, and 200 for a snack. I'm then right there at 1600.
My body still has a way to go, and I'm still not thrilled with how I look. But I'm only 200 days or so away from being where I want to be. That's refreshing. Only 3 more 2-month stretches like this one.
And look where it got me.
I sit here today, in new clothes, that would have never fit me. I notice my face, my chest, my waist have all shrunken enough that I notice it. Clothing I had grown out of, not fits me again.
I eat heartily. Probably more than I did before. But I treat unhealthy food like I am allergic to it, or that it is like a form of poison. I avoid it at almost all costs.
I realize that everyday, despite any transgressions from the night before, that I once again have a choice every morning to choose health. This used to be a tremendous burden, and it has turned into a blessing over time. No slip up is continuous. It is fleeting, and I can immediately get back on the ride towards 210 pounds of total weight.
My belly, once constantly distended, is now much more "jiggly". This is because of my losing inches, and less stress being placed on the muscles and fascia there.
I have a supportive group of friends in both music and life that embrace my decisions, and support them through their words, actions, and meal choices.
Food is no longer something I obsess over for enjoyment. It is a tool I use to get things done. Like sneakers, like a laptop, etc. I enjoy it just like I enjoy those other things, but it does not own me.
I buy groceries all the time now, and eat fresh fruit and vegetables every single day. This was a rarity for me in the past.
My digestive tract has improved immensely. Gone are the horrible constipations, painful bowel movements, and "runs". Gone is the heartburn, the horrible stinging burps, the stomach cramps. Gone is the churning of my insides after a high-fat meal, as it attempts to move things out of my body as soon as possible. So gone, all these things, that until I thought about them just now, I realized they hadn't been there for ages.
All this is possible because of knowledge. Knowing exactly what goes in, always, and never distorting or lying about it, even if it makes you look bad. A chicken wing, or pizza, is always a chicken wing, or a pizza, and as guilty as I feel entering it into my food diary, I am always so thankful I did. I will look back, and cringe at it, and remind myself how fleeting that moment was. I will remind myself that I work too hard to try to derail this train.
This has been the most important revelation: when I feel hungry, it usually means I'm thirsty. So I drink water or some other non-calorie drink to help satisfy that urge. Usually, it's then gone.
Every morning, I eat yogurt with a nice helping of honey, and apple, and a banana: 360 calories. I'm full until around 1pm, and if I'm still hungry, it usually means I'm thirsty, so I have some unsweetened hot Earl Grey tea.
For lunch, I have a variety of foods, but a solid staple has been a 6-inch Subway Club sandwich on wheat bread, with swiss cheese, sweet peppers, salt, pepper, oregano, and lite mayonnaise. Then a bag of Baked Lay's potato chips: 520 calories.
That usually leaves me with about 700 calories for the rest of the day, which usually goes in the form of 500 for dinner, and 200 for a snack. I'm then right there at 1600.
My body still has a way to go, and I'm still not thrilled with how I look. But I'm only 200 days or so away from being where I want to be. That's refreshing. Only 3 more 2-month stretches like this one.
October 15, 2010
"Going Back" live at Rockwood Music Hall 10.12.10
I don't want to speak about it
I just want to get used to it
You make me want to drink about it
Make me want to get loose with it
So cut me down, And cut me loose
'Cause I choose to walk alone with a hangman's noose.
I have found the only truce:
Either you're gonna leave
Or I'm gonna leave
We're basically the same
I'm going back from whence I came
I'm going back from whence I came
I don't want to talk about it
'Frain it might make too much sense
I don't want to hash it out
It's not my place to make amends
So cut me down, And cut me loose
'Cause I choose to walk alone with a hangman's noose.
I have found the only truce:
Either you're gonna leave
Or I'm gonna leave
We're basically the same
I'm going back from whence I came
I'm going back from whence I came
So take my home, the one I own
And change the pictures on the table
The walls agree; they always did with me
We never fit the married label
So cut me down, And cut me loose
'Cause I choose to walk alone with a hangman's noose.
I have found the only truce:
Either you're gonna leave
Or I'm gonna leave
We're basically the same
I'm going back from whence I came
I'm going back from whence I came
I'm going back from whence I came
I'm going back from whence I came
October 12, 2010
October 11, 2010
Tired
the cliche of the day
for those who cannot
see the borough
from its trees:
everywhere i go
there i was
find it and live in it already
for those who cannot
see the borough
from its trees:
everywhere i go
there i was
find it and live in it already
October 7, 2010
October 5, 2010
I Do My Grieving in Private
I do my grieving in private
But publicly
Because it makes sense to me
I don't blink at a coffin
Or standing over a grave
As those around me gush
- and gush they should!
Loss cuts us all down
Right at the knees
And you realize you're
Falling and flailing
Beautifully unveiling
The Human Heart
In all its capacity.
I do my grieving in private
Away from the grieving
Away from the reeling
And when their feeling subsides,
I grieve.
I grieve on stage
In front of strangers
In words I sing
That weigh twenty-seven pounds
a-piece:
"But since it falls, unto my lot
That I should rise, and you should not
I'll gently rise, and I'll softly call
Goodnight, and joy be with you all"
Those are words from the deceased, to us.
Cloaked in love,
Weighing the words down.
It's not just some
Drinking Song
That I gloss over
Or you should gloss over
This is the most beautiful song
You could sing!
To proclaim!
A message from beyond
To live well
To live full
To embody Life
At its fullest.
To never stop moving forward.
Those who fall beside us
Become light as a feather
And we neatly fold them,
Place them in our jacket pocket,
And take the next step forward.
We have all these fallen relatives
Gathered 'Round
Cheering for us
One in God
One in the True Life Force
And they are literally
Incapable
of anything
Except Positivity
And Purest Love.
So we weep, we mourn
We grieve in public
Or private (like the author)
And all the while,
Those folded people in our pockets
Ring out:
"Goodnight, and joy be with you all!"
But publicly
Because it makes sense to me
I don't blink at a coffin
Or standing over a grave
As those around me gush
- and gush they should!
Loss cuts us all down
Right at the knees
And you realize you're
Falling and flailing
Beautifully unveiling
The Human Heart
In all its capacity.
I do my grieving in private
Away from the grieving
Away from the reeling
And when their feeling subsides,
I grieve.
I grieve on stage
In front of strangers
In words I sing
That weigh twenty-seven pounds
a-piece:
"But since it falls, unto my lot
That I should rise, and you should not
I'll gently rise, and I'll softly call
Goodnight, and joy be with you all"
Those are words from the deceased, to us.
Cloaked in love,
Weighing the words down.
It's not just some
Drinking Song
That I gloss over
Or you should gloss over
This is the most beautiful song
You could sing!
To proclaim!
A message from beyond
To live well
To live full
To embody Life
At its fullest.
To never stop moving forward.
Those who fall beside us
Become light as a feather
And we neatly fold them,
Place them in our jacket pocket,
And take the next step forward.
We have all these fallen relatives
Gathered 'Round
Cheering for us
One in God
One in the True Life Force
And they are literally
Incapable
of anything
Except Positivity
And Purest Love.
So we weep, we mourn
We grieve in public
Or private (like the author)
And all the while,
Those folded people in our pockets
Ring out:
"Goodnight, and joy be with you all!"
Eulogy
It is one of the greatest honors of my life to stand before you, Grandma, and deliver your eulogy. There is no way to sum up your entire life’s work in three pages; I can only highlight the big things, and hope people understand the scope of what you accomplished.
First, though, a bit about my Grandma. Delia Neylan was born in 1925, just 4 years before the great stock market crash of 1929 and the Great Depression. She was raised along with her brother Danny and her sisters Nancy and Mary in the First Ward, children of Irish immigrants from Miltown Malbay, County Clare. She grew up like most Irish did at that time, in relative poverty, with a strong backbone in the Catholic faith. She met my grandfather John R. Schmitt, and together they raised 6 children, Cathy, Debbie, Helen, Annie, Mary, and John.
She lived through 5 major wars, the first one being of special significance. The second World War produced the Great Generation, a special group of people in our nation’s history that greatly advanced us as a society and fought the good fight…and won. Grandma was very active in the war effort, supporting it from the home front like so many women did, while her husband-to-be fought in Africa and then Italy. Upon returning home, she met my grandpa and raised their family in the First Ward. She worked at St. Monica’s Parish while her children attended parochial school there, and is highly respected by the other families in the area, to
this day.
She famously tended bar at the 1134 club off of Clinton Street well into her 70s. She famously wore stiletto heels even later than that. She famously wrote a Christmas song that I have allegedly refused to record, because of fear of copyright infringement. She famously wrote a poem for several of our last Presidents, each
poem sounding strangely identical.
She famously cooked the most delicious food, her triumph of course being the Irish soda bread. I would be lying if I said that my heart doesn’t break today knowing I’ll never know what a piping hot piece of that bread toasted, with butter, will taste like again. Because no one has ever made it like grandma.
And then there was the soup. And the Homemade noodles! And the Dumplings! And her pierogi’s, famously made better by Grandma than by any Polish person I’ve ever met. So successful, in fact, that she would take orders, and plan for weeks when she was going to “do the pierogis”.
She famously boasted and told everyone about me, and my supposed accomplishments. I would like to take the opportunity to dispel a few myths:
First, I do not walk on water.
Second, I cannot heal the sick, or bring world peace.
Third, neither I nor AJ ever paid Grandma a cent to say the things she said; there were no bribes and no back door deals.
…….
…….
…….
You know, when the world loses an Irish woman, everyone feels like they’ve lost a dear friend, no matter your relationship to her. An Irish woman can go drink-for-drink, joke-for-joke, and still have some energy left over to cook you the most delicious meal, and say something encouraging capped off with a big hug.
The Irish are honest, they are humble, they are steadfast, they are resilient. They meet sadness with humor, and have the uncanny ability to feel deeper and wider than other people. They have unquestioned loyalty and nationalism, and cherish simple things in life. They both celebrate and grieve with song, with drink, and
with love.
Grandma….was….a…..true…..Irish…..woman. To her very core. She was honest, humble, steadfast, and resilient. She sang like a bird, and she learned from her father, who she said “used to sing in da pubs.” Nobody fought harder than Dee Dee at the end of her life, and nobody lived a life full of adversity met with triumph as she did. She never stood for fighting between family, and these past few years has shown her to always have been right: family is love, family is home, and so was Grandma.
She would want us all to eat, drink, and be merry today, and tomorrow, and the next. She would want us to know that she absolutely resides in heaven, after having been given last rites and lived a good life, and be comforted in knowing that she is one in Jesus. She would want us to know just how wonderful that feels, and that would only make her pray that much harder that each of us will one day experience it.
But the reality is that we lost a real, real good one in Dee Dee. We lost the matriarch, the great gatherer of people, the best storyteller, the best cook, the best cheerleader, a great mother, and a great woman. We lost our link to the old country, whose Green ran through her veins, who’s spirit now resides over in Clare.
We lost our friend.
And so we will cry. We will feel deep sadness. We will gather, and we will hold each other. But Grandma would want us to use this as an opportunity to come together, and move forward together, as a family, and live by her example. And we will.
We feel today the same way you feel as the curtain falls on an incredible performance: moved, sad, longing, and joyful. We are moved by the sum total of everything we saw, all the effort so clearly put in, and how wonderfully it played out; sadness because we are sad to see it end; longing because we wish there was
more; joy in having witnessed it for ourselves.
You lived life without hesitation, Grandma; with boundless love and unquestionable loyalty. You made something out of nothing, and the sum of your tremendous efforts, your family, stand before you today. You were a star, Grandma, and this is your great encore. Take a bow, Dee Dee, because you brought the house down.
We love you, now and forever.
First, though, a bit about my Grandma. Delia Neylan was born in 1925, just 4 years before the great stock market crash of 1929 and the Great Depression. She was raised along with her brother Danny and her sisters Nancy and Mary in the First Ward, children of Irish immigrants from Miltown Malbay, County Clare. She grew up like most Irish did at that time, in relative poverty, with a strong backbone in the Catholic faith. She met my grandfather John R. Schmitt, and together they raised 6 children, Cathy, Debbie, Helen, Annie, Mary, and John.
She lived through 5 major wars, the first one being of special significance. The second World War produced the Great Generation, a special group of people in our nation’s history that greatly advanced us as a society and fought the good fight…and won. Grandma was very active in the war effort, supporting it from the home front like so many women did, while her husband-to-be fought in Africa and then Italy. Upon returning home, she met my grandpa and raised their family in the First Ward. She worked at St. Monica’s Parish while her children attended parochial school there, and is highly respected by the other families in the area, to
this day.
She famously tended bar at the 1134 club off of Clinton Street well into her 70s. She famously wore stiletto heels even later than that. She famously wrote a Christmas song that I have allegedly refused to record, because of fear of copyright infringement. She famously wrote a poem for several of our last Presidents, each
poem sounding strangely identical.
She famously cooked the most delicious food, her triumph of course being the Irish soda bread. I would be lying if I said that my heart doesn’t break today knowing I’ll never know what a piping hot piece of that bread toasted, with butter, will taste like again. Because no one has ever made it like grandma.
And then there was the soup. And the Homemade noodles! And the Dumplings! And her pierogi’s, famously made better by Grandma than by any Polish person I’ve ever met. So successful, in fact, that she would take orders, and plan for weeks when she was going to “do the pierogis”.
She famously boasted and told everyone about me, and my supposed accomplishments. I would like to take the opportunity to dispel a few myths:
First, I do not walk on water.
Second, I cannot heal the sick, or bring world peace.
Third, neither I nor AJ ever paid Grandma a cent to say the things she said; there were no bribes and no back door deals.
…….
…….
…….
You know, when the world loses an Irish woman, everyone feels like they’ve lost a dear friend, no matter your relationship to her. An Irish woman can go drink-for-drink, joke-for-joke, and still have some energy left over to cook you the most delicious meal, and say something encouraging capped off with a big hug.
The Irish are honest, they are humble, they are steadfast, they are resilient. They meet sadness with humor, and have the uncanny ability to feel deeper and wider than other people. They have unquestioned loyalty and nationalism, and cherish simple things in life. They both celebrate and grieve with song, with drink, and
with love.
Grandma….was….a…..true…..Irish…..woman. To her very core. She was honest, humble, steadfast, and resilient. She sang like a bird, and she learned from her father, who she said “used to sing in da pubs.” Nobody fought harder than Dee Dee at the end of her life, and nobody lived a life full of adversity met with triumph as she did. She never stood for fighting between family, and these past few years has shown her to always have been right: family is love, family is home, and so was Grandma.
She would want us all to eat, drink, and be merry today, and tomorrow, and the next. She would want us to know that she absolutely resides in heaven, after having been given last rites and lived a good life, and be comforted in knowing that she is one in Jesus. She would want us to know just how wonderful that feels, and that would only make her pray that much harder that each of us will one day experience it.
But the reality is that we lost a real, real good one in Dee Dee. We lost the matriarch, the great gatherer of people, the best storyteller, the best cook, the best cheerleader, a great mother, and a great woman. We lost our link to the old country, whose Green ran through her veins, who’s spirit now resides over in Clare.
We lost our friend.
And so we will cry. We will feel deep sadness. We will gather, and we will hold each other. But Grandma would want us to use this as an opportunity to come together, and move forward together, as a family, and live by her example. And we will.
We feel today the same way you feel as the curtain falls on an incredible performance: moved, sad, longing, and joyful. We are moved by the sum total of everything we saw, all the effort so clearly put in, and how wonderfully it played out; sadness because we are sad to see it end; longing because we wish there was
more; joy in having witnessed it for ourselves.
You lived life without hesitation, Grandma; with boundless love and unquestionable loyalty. You made something out of nothing, and the sum of your tremendous efforts, your family, stand before you today. You were a star, Grandma, and this is your great encore. Take a bow, Dee Dee, because you brought the house down.
We love you, now and forever.
October 1, 2010
Delia Neylan Schmitt, 1925-2010
"Delia" - diminutive of Bedelia, variant of Bridget, Celtic god of fire and poetry
Born a unicorn,
Of word and flame,
Married a lion,
Now one in Everything.
"Of all the money that e'er I spent
I spent it in good company
And all the harm that ever I did
Alas, it was to none but me
And all I've done
For want of wit
In memory now, I can't recall
So fill to me the Parting Glass
Goodnight, and joy be with you all.
Of all the comrades that e'er I had
They're sorry for me to be going away
And all the sweethearts that e'er I had
They wish me one more day to stay
But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise, and you should not
I gently rise, and I softly call
Goodnight, and joy be with you all."
Love you Gram! Nobody ever like you, before or after! You are badly missed, and cherished! My children will know all about you, and the way you lived your life. You will be remembered and honored, every time I sing an Irish song, every time I cook at home, and every time I catch myself straying from the kind of life you lived. Your example, through love, will bring me back, and keep me humble.
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