A Story of Richard Grinnell
Here is a story involving Rich.
Yesterday I got my computer back from the repairman, and for an unknown reason, had to find a video of Laurie Anderson's "O Superman".
I didn't know why, I just had to. I did, and downloaded it. I saved it but did not watch it all the way through.
I just learned Rich has died. It hurts. My brother died before he should have, and I feel the same about Richard. I know
full well that my sadness is mostly about my selfishness, and somehow that doesn't change a thing... even though I had hints and
intimations that neither my brother or Richard were going to live their full span, though I didn't really understand at the time.
When I got the news, 'O Superman' started playing in my head, and then I remembered when I first heard the song.
It was sometime in the 90s - I had just gotten home from one of Richard and Lisa's New Year's Eve Parties, and very fun one,
as I recall. I got home, it was maybe 2 or so in the morning, and there were still people there when I left the party. I went into
my room, got ready for bed, put my head on the pillow whennnnn... my roommate started having loud operatic sex. The kind
that verges on performance art, that you can't possibly sleep through.
I did my best to cover my ears, my head with a pillow, you name it - nothing worked. Desperate for a solution, I called Richard,
reasoning that I had only left fifteen minutes ago, and if the party were still going, I could return.
Richard answered, not sounding terribly alert. I said,
"Rich! Can I come back to the party, I ah, can't sleep!" (I don't think Rich could hear the loud sex in the background, though the
noise was still pretty impressive. At least there wasn't screaming during the short time I was on the phone.)
Richard, very gently and kindly (for he was always kind) said, "I'm afraid not, Brad. When you left, the other guests left too -
it's just me and Lisa now, and we'd like to get to bed, we have a huge mess to clean up in the morning."
Feeling like a bit of a cad for bothering my friend when he was about to sleep himself, I rang off.
I went back into my room, for the histrionics had begun again. (There might be a few of you who remember her name,
that roommate.)
I turned on my tv, turned up the volume, and settled in to watch something, anything. What I found was this - the video of the song
I mentioned above. It entranced me, allowed me to ignore the noise in the background. (If you would like to see it, it is here in my
youtube channel - also named 'kolchis'.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzYu88jIDYs
So it came to pass that I have associated this song with Richard for a long time - for talking to him on the phone, then watching it on TV.
And though I didn't know it at the time, it spoke of the call that we all dread, from the voice on the phone that spoke in the song.
O Superman. O judge. O Mom and Dad. Mom and Dad.
O Superman. O judge. O Mom and Dad. Mom and Dad.
"Hi. I'm not home right now. But if you want to leave a
message, just start talking at the sound of the tone."
"Hello? This is your Mother.
Are you there? Are you coming home?"
"Hello? Is anybody home?
Well, you don't know me, but I know you.
And I've got a message to give to you.
Here come the planes.
So you better get ready. Ready to go. You can come
as you are, but pay as you go. Pay as you go."
And I said: "Okay. Who is this really?"
And the voice said:
"This is the hand, the Hand That Takes.
This is the hand, the Hand That Takes.
This is the hand, the Hand That Takes."
"Here come the planes. They're American planes.
Made in America. Smoking or non-smoking?"
And the voice said: "Neither snow nor rain nor gloom
of night shall stay these couriers from the swift
completion of their appointed rounds."
'Cause when love is gone, there's always justice.
And when justice is gone, there's always force.
And when force is gone, there's always Mom. Hi Mom!
So hold me, Mom, in your long arms. So hold me,
Mom, in your long arms.
In your automatic arms. Your electronic arms.
In your arms.
So hold me, Mom, in your long arms.
Your petrochemical arms. Your military arms.
In your electronic arms.
Fr. Laurie Anderson, BIG SCIENCE.
May you rest well in the arms of everybody's mother, the mother to which we all return.
I am glad that I talked to you before you had to go, and I will miss you. Love you.
Good Night, Richard.