I have loved Roger's essays over the years, for their beauty and eloquence. In the last few years, he lost his beloved thirty-something daughter to a sudden heart attack and talks about his journey since then.
Maybe the most profound thing he talks about is the virtue of kindness, how it is even more important than being smart. I find his words on kindness to be encouraging because part of me has been embarrassed by my kindness, incorrectly feeling that is more of a womanly trait. Something soft and wimpy. Instead, he argues that being kind is special. I am going to let his words sink in, reflect on this and honor my kindness.
From interview with shelf-awareness.com:
We greatly enjoyed Making Toast, although "enjoyed" is not quite the right word. We were moved by the book, and appreciated its spare style. How did you find your voice for this remembrance? How did you avoid sentimentality? Making Toast seems to be remarkably un-clichéd.
I often write nonfiction this way; in this case, finding an inverse proportion of fancy writing to the importance of the subject. If you have the goods, there is no point in dressing it up, no need to get fancy, to create a subject out of language itself. The story itself brings readers to their knees. I was compelled to write simply and directly.
At what point did you decide to write about your daughter's death, and why? Why share it?
I wanted to share it to be useful. I didn't initially intend to make it into a book. I wrote a New Yorker essay to get it out of my system; it was the only way I knew to feel better. The editor, David Remnick, said the piece was wise and urged me to write more. He also said, "When you write this, write with more grace than pain." If you write only from pain, you write standing on your feet rather than on your knees.
You say that you had grown weary of your anger. How do you feel now?
The holiday season is a crummy season for my family, so the anger is greater right now. It flared up in December when we went to the cemetery. The anger goes up and down. It's futile to be angry at God--the God I believe in doesn't care. He set the world in motion and left it. But his not caring became a personal affront to me.
Where are you in your role of not quite grandparent, not quite parent? Are you and Ginny still part of the household?
We are, and it's now been two years. We know what we are doing--it's no longer a role, it's our life. It's very easy.
What has stayed with you? Any words of wisdom?
Yes. Life--get on with it. And I am kinder as a person, more alert to the feelings of others. I can use my wit liberally, but am more careful with it now. I'm more aware of the fragility of life, and want to make sure that the last word anyone hears from me is kind. Being smart is not special; being kind is. Everything has been a gift.
--Roger Rosenblatt being interview by Shelf-awareness.com
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