grandma buncher and the wind

It was one of those days in LA, a strong bit of sunlight, temps in the low 80's and a wind steady with fringes of cool air to sooth the body just as you thought the sweat was going to overcome your entire body. It was a day when a long walk was necessary, no earphones or I-Pods, just a walk listening to the sounds, hums, tunes of the city.

My paternal grandmother, who I only knew for the first 7 years of my life had little to say, to any of her grandchildren. But when she wanted to make a point, she would place her hands on our shoulders, place her fingers under our chins, state that when an adult is talking to you, you must look that person in the eye to keep them honest, and listen. Her name was Anna Buncher, and Grandma Buncher would then speak the words necessary to make a point and as quickly as she started she would stop. I still remember the conversation we had regarding the wind. She said, God created most to many things, making the Earth a place for his greatest creations, humans, to live and thrive. He knows all we do, but sometimes certain people act out before God knows what they are up to. So God invented the wind. The wind, she went on to say, is God's telephone. When it blows calmly he is listening on his end of the phone, and when the wind howls and moans, God is talking to us and wants US to listen. People must be heard, and the wind carries their thoughts, emotions, and actions to God and to others. People must also listen she said in a stern voice, and when they talk too much, or talk too much nonsense they must realize how deceitful and deadly their voices can be. The wind is a recorder of both gossip and good.

Being 7, I was not quite sure why my grandmother was so concerned with the weather, but I knew she wanted to tell me something because she used her I am your grandmother voice, without the cuddle or the cooing. I asked my Dad what his mother meant by this conversation about God his phone and the wind hoping he could translate her story into something I could grasp. My Dad didn't get around to explaining his mothers tale right away, but finally one night when we were sitting Shiva for my grandmother (a Jewish tradition for the family and friends to come together to support those mourning the death of a loved one) my Dad pulled me aside and spoke to me about the wind, and my grandmother.

My Dad said my grandmother grew cautious of people the older she got. Her trust was tarnished, and her belief that you do unto others as you want others to do to you was shattered by too many selfish, greedy and self serving people. His mother believed that rumor, innuendo, were cowards way of acting human and that was behavior God could not tolerate. She believed that here say led to lies, lies were told by the insecure, and insecurity was a behavior for people who can't do much of anything but lie. Lies according to my grandmother were noisy and loud truth was quiet and soft. So my grandmother made the analogy that a soft breeze was full of good and a strong wind trembled with bad.

I have heard great gusts of roaring wind coming from the mouths of people and their spouses who want to be considered candidates for president representing the Republican/Bagger Party. I have heard how Gays are barbarians, poor people lazy and drug addicts, women cheap and horny and unable to control their own bodies, children of immigrants freeloaders, unemployed persons Un-American, and old people leeching off the backs of some future generation of someones kids and grand kids. I have heard tumultuous tremblings of here say from thrice married men about the destruction of marriage if same sex partners wed, I have heard lies from people who place one hand on the Bible swearing they are speaking for God, as they rob, ruin and ridicule the rest of Gods children. I have listened to insecure people try to be the bully hoping no one discover how phony and hypocritical they really are.

At the age of 61, I realize how right my grandmother was in her analogy of behavior and the wind. Nothing remains silent and any word spoken, like the dust or dirt, pollen or petals, aromas or odor are carried from one place to another, from one person to another. When people are sane, caring, concerned there is a sweet soft breeze very comforting. When people hate tornados blow wild.

There is a park very close to my house, called Runyon Canon. One path is a long and winding route taking you to the to the top of hillside. Once there you overlook the city of LA and on a clear day you can see the Pacific Ocean. Most of the time there is a breeze that runs through the hair on your body, caresses your nostrils and invites you to take a deep, deep breath. I stood at this precipice today and I heard my Grandma Buncher speak to me.