Just one girl and her experiences

Written in the Fall of 2023

They say that sailing is a metaphor for life.

I’ve learned a lot about the perfect pivot— in sailing they call this maneuver a tack. 

Crossing the bow of the boat through the wind. 

Perfecting it takes preparation, a steady skipper, and a good bow-swain.

I’m a firm believer in the goodness in the world (especially of people) on the water and in living. 

It’s funny how both life and sailing teaches me the same lesson until I learn it. 

You can’t chase the wind— it has a mind of its own. 

You can study it for hours and days and watch it dance across the water but you can’t ever 1000% predict it with certainty.  

I don’t chase, I attract.

I keep re-learning that lesson to say the least.

Remembering my Grandma, as told by my father Mark Andrew Eisel.

Thank you everyone for making the time for today’s service. It means so much to me, my family, and my mother. For those of you who knew Judy I do not need to tell you how special she was; for those who only knew her briefly or met her a few times, let me share a little bit about my mom.  

She was born November 1st, 1941 (All Saints Day), to George and Margret Grassby. And she was a saint. Her Dad was a World War 2 veteran as a Construction Battalion, and later a union leader for the local busing line. It is fair to say George was rough around the edges. Her mom, Margrett, was the better half of the marriage. Margarrett was a pillar of the local community in Marlborough MA, where she was the local librarian for over 50 years. When she retired, she joined the Peace Corps where she opened a Children’s Library in Kingston Jamaica.  

Judy went to St. Mary’s High School in Waltham, Mass where she graduated in 1959 and went on to St. Vincent’s Hospital School of Nursing and was a part of the graduating class of 1962. Back then nursing school was a two-year program. In between high school and St Vincent’s, she took a little-known gap year and entered the convent. After graduating she went to work in Boston at the floating hospital, where she met my Dad.  

For over 30 years my mother was a nurse, in the ER and ICU. She would tell stories through the years of caring for the Hells Angels, the infamous U.S. motorcycle gang, and local celebrities. As my mother’s great stories go, one day she witnessed a prison break from the old Charles Street Jail. For those of you who have spent time in Boston, this is now the Liberty Hotel. That one fateful day, she was on break looking out the window at Mass General and saw a man scale the wall and jump in a waiting car. As legend has it, he was never captured. As my mother told the story, she and her friends were nervous to talk about it for years since the man was a notorious local criminal.  

As her child, I cannot imagine life without her. She was my hero and my moral north star. She was there to support Chris and me at every turn. In 7th grade, I got in trouble for coordinating “an after-school activity” between two hockey players. She came to school and stuck up for me unconditionally, it’s funny how that event in 7th grade never left me. A mother’s influence on her children is undeniable and the influence on Chris and I was strong.  

I remember after my parent’s divorce things were difficult, we lived 100% with our mom. This coincided with her decision to go back to school and get her BS in nursing, so that this would create more opportunities for her, and us, in the future. Money was tight as she worked the 2nd or 3rd shift to earn the extra pay while she went to school. I can vividly remember doing our food shopping in the next town because my mother did not want anyone in Arlington to know that we were on food stamps. She was proud and she was strong. During this time our vacations consisted of hiking and camping, and it is here that I was taught the great gift of how to enjoy the beauty of the outdoors.

My mom was a dedicated practicing Catholic, a few years after Chris and I left Arlington she became very involved in the Church. She was a member of the Voice of the Faithful, she started a catholic woman’s divorce group, and later she organized a grief therapy group and left a lasting imprint on many in need at her parish. She was also a staunch Democrat, and if you met her, you instantly learned of her disdain for the republican party, especially the previous president.  

She had friends far and wide. Her close friends Lia, Lena, Louise, Chris, Silvia, and Marie spanned her entire life. These women were like Aunts to Chris and me and were a major part of our family. My mother loved and cherished her time with all of them. Over the last week, it has been great to hear from those still with us about how special my mother was to them. The stories have been both heartbreaking and funny.

Later in life, my mother found love. At her 50th high school reunion she reconnected with her High School sweetheart and boyfriend Joseph Degrinney. He was a widow, and they immediately rekindled their love. They shared a dedication to the Catholic faith, they were both health care professionals (Joe a Doctor, mom a nurse) and they smoothly reconnected. They spent 6 wonderful years together before Joe died. She Loved Joe.

Most of all though, my mother was a Grandmother. Oh my, how she loved her grandchildren Lauren, Ryan, and Sarah. Telling them stories, making them dinner or breakfast … they could not do a thing wrong in her eyes, and she would tell me over and over how special each of them was, and how they were going to change the world. I have loved the stories that each of you has shared about your Grandmother she loved you.

Mom, I love you, and thank you for all you gave me as a Son.

When I think about past versions of myself I think of controlling the chaos. When I used to land in a new city and look out of the plane window, at all of the lights, a well of anxiety would bubble up in my chest. I would think of all the places, and sounds, and smells, and individual people living their own lives and get overwhelmed. I remember my first year of college the bike down Main Street used to fill me with dread. What if I ran into a pothole and lost control or what if a car doesn’t see me or what if I go too fast and go off the front of the handle bars. For the younger version of myself cold water was also a sensory overload. I used to be envious of people who could dive into cold water with little effort. Envious but in awe. I would dip my toes in and feel the water gripping my chest preventing my body from continuing forward. This younger version of myself wouldn’t let herself enjoy life fully— amidst the chaos of it all— so she would control it. 

I always wanted to feel in control within the chaos of life, so I as I got older I started to do all of the things that scared me. With traveling it started in early high school with small solo trips into the burrows of DC. I would take the metro, lean my head on the glass of the window, and watch the train rumble over the tracks. When I was a sophomore in college—against the well intentioned wishes of my parents— I bought a ticket to Peru and traveled the country solo for a month. With biking the process was a slow one, filled with many long rides through the rolling hills of Vermont. After a couple of instances where I was forced to take a gravel road— a common occurrence in the country— with my road bike, I begrudgingly chose to be comfortable within feeling uncomfortable. I think it’s the first choice you make in surrendering to the chaos. I used to sit in cold water and feel cramped and uncomfortable. Uncomfortable with the coldness, uncomfortable with the feeling of sitting on the rocks, and uncomfortable with the water rushing around me. This summer I learned to enjoy the experience through pure repetition. I still have some shock when I get into the water, but I can appreciate the beauty of the different rock formations, and the fish nibbling at my toes. My favorite part about going so often is seeing the moss change on the rocks across the river from week to week. Not too long ago while I was sitting in the stream I made eye contact with a heron. 

Sitting in that same cold Vermont creek recently (September 12th, 2021 to be exact) I thought about how now, instead of trying to control my environment, I am practicing feeling control within the chaos of life. When I was in Greece this past August I had that initial culture shock, but I let it pass. I was then able to enjoy the boats at the dock outside of the apartment, the smell of the salty sea, the crystal clarity of the water, the smiling people dancing on the side of the road, the sweet burning sensation of the Honey Raki in my back of my throat, and the cold foam on top of the Freddo Cappucinos. Now when I’m biking down a steep hill I can feel the light breeze in my hair. The exhilaration of it all. When I jump into a chilly stream it is now refreshing. I can feel it in my legs and in my toes. I am rejuvenated when I leave. 

My favorite instagram influencer this past week had a very relevant post about this exact matter. It was a funny story actually. I had just gotten out of my favorite stream, and I was freezing, sitting in my car, blasting the heat, looking at my instagram. The influencer, @sighswoon, posted about her experience swimming in cold water. She finished her post with this idea: “The mind can know something that the body doesn’t yet agree with. Theory is the mind moving forward, and practice is the body moving forward. Only together can change occur. This goes for breaking habits, accomplishing your goals, living your dreams… The lightness of your minds eye creates the whole obvious picture, but what is obvious to the mind is a battle for the body. The body trails behind asking for guidance through sensation. Step by step. But it’s all possible.”

I read it a couple of days ago, and that quote stuck with me. It’s funny how it took pushing myself within travel, within biking, and within cold water, all to get my mind and body connected. Looking back on these experiences, isn’t that the point of life? To find what makes us feel control within the chaos, to find what makes us feel connected to our bodies and by extension to others. For me, I learned the practice of feeling control within the chaos of life through traveling, biking, and cold streams; and so I guess that’s what those 3 things have in common. Let me tell you, maaaaaaan am I grateful for those things. 

Written September 15th 2021.

Last year, I was elected to Student Government, and recently the entire group of students went on a short weekend retreat to the northern shore of Lake Champlain. The goal of the retreat was simple: setting expectations for the year. As a sophomore I wasn’t sure exactly what to anticipate, but I was blown away by the quality and quantity of amazing peers and leaders in the room. Through many discussions with my fellow senators on what builds effective leaders I learned a lot … here are some of my favorite thoughts on what builds an strong leader, that I wrote down throughout the weekend:

1. Effective leaders build trust. 
2. Work-life balance is so important. When you are your best self you can do your best work. 
3. Be a critical thinker. Doubt everything. Ask questions. Blindly accepting the past has never lead to any good for society. Change progresses us forward and makes us a better institution, and we can’t do that without doubt and change. 
4. The best leaders uplift others and recognize they can’t do everything. True leaders recognize that there will be people who can do what they can’t, and so it’s important to give everyone the tools to ensure their ideas are heard.
5. On a related note, some of the most inspiring people in the room won’t make themselves known. One can learn the most from the person who talks the least.
6. As a leader it’s important to be the first to sacrifice. Always. Good leaders enjoy well deserved rewards but also take responsibility for giving something up. 
7. Remain calm. Think through issues. Responding when you are emotional does no one any good. 
8. Good leaders have the highest emotional intelligence. They know themselves, they know others, they can read a room and adapt to it. 
9. The best leaders can communicate their expectations to their peers and followers. 

I began the process of learning to seek and sustain healthy female relationships through the foundation given to me by my after-school running club in 3rd grade. Little did I know that what I learned then, wouldn’t have such a profound positive impact until I came to college. Since coming to school, I have had the wonderful opportunity to become friends with some truly amazing women. Never in my life have I had such fulfilling friendships, ones where I am fully supported, challenged, and loved in very diverse ways. Developing these newer relationships has caused me to look back at the friendships I had in high school and examine why they were different. Why was I more competitive with my friends? Why did I not truly want the best for them? Why was there often an underlying toxicity?

Whenever I have a new revelation in my life, I call my mom. So, as I was sitting in the dining hall eating breakfast, I called her and talked to her about my past friendships. We talked about many things during that phone call. How for one, the average length of a friendship is 7 years. How friends come and go like seasons, and how it’s normal to grow out of older friendships that maybe don’t sustain you in the way they once did. She assured me that as I grow I’ll experience some growing pains, but it’s nothing you couldn’t handle Lauren.

She then ended the phone call, and later that day I got an email from her with the subject “Girls on the Run 2019 curriculum”. Curious, I opened the email with the short message from her:

Check out the stuff on female friendships. You ask and you shall receive.

Girls on the Run is a non-profit that seeks to empower young women through running. When I was younger, my mom ran the program at my elementary school. Wishing she had a program like this when she was younger, she ended up getting more involved, eventfully becoming the director for my county. 

I read through the Girls on the Run curriculum, skipping ahead to the lessons on friendships. The first lesson taught you the benefits of having friends — a relatively simple concept, but important to establish. A good friend makes you feel better about yourself, and they make you feel happy. As I looked back on my previous relationships, I realized how many I had that weren’t truly giving me happiness — an almost silly, but telling, realization. The next lesson was on choosing friendships. The lesson encouraged the girls to think of things that would “boost” friendship, “test” a friendship, and “break” a friendship while identifying the qualities to look for in friends. The final lesson was on communication. The goal of the lesson was for the girls to recognize the importance of communication, to learn how to stand up for themselves, and to gain strategies for communicating with others.

I am fortunate that I have been able to find positive female role models.  At first, I thought I was lucky, but what I’ve come to realize is that through this experience, I have subconsciously sought out positive female role models who exhibit the basic but essential teachings of Girls on the Run.

As I sat there, in the dining hall, reading my moms email, all I could think of was the Girl Scout song that my mom had my troop sing as kids:

Make new friends, but keep the old.
One is silver, the other is gold.

A circle is round, it has no end.
That’s how long, I will be your friend.

A fire burns bright, it warms the heart.
We’ve been friends, from the very start.

You have one hand, I have the other.
Put them together, we have each other.

Silver is precious, gold is too.
I am precious, and so are you.

You help me and I’ll help you 
and together we will see it through.

The sky is blue. The Earth is green
I can help to keep it clean

Across the land, Across the sea
Friends forever we will always be

When I look through the lens of my old Nikon 380, I must pay attention to the small light meter in the corner of my eye, as the F Stop numbers surrounding the lens have cracked away.  I have wrapped its leather strap around my neck so many times, inhaling the comforting scent of well-worn leather. It calms and focuses me; it is just my camera and I.

I have always loved black and white film photography. I find peace in the concentration that goes into getting the perfect shot. I am completely absorbed in the moment, that frozen instant in time when I only focus on the exposure, shutter speed and my vision through the lens. It’s the rhythmic peace of wrapping my film on its plastic wheel and the churning of the black canister while I wait for my negatives to develop. It’s pulling my negatives out and holding them up to the light. It’s the anticipation I feel before I stare excitedly at the small inverted frames. It’s watching the sheet rise in the chemical bin: my photo, my vision coming to life.

     With my camera, I am content, lost in my personal process of creation. Time seems to stop and I am completely absorbed. Worries about fade away and no longer occupy my time. I am still, savoring the moment. I don’t dwell on memories of the past, or worry about what may or may not happen in my future. I am mindful of only the picture and the camera in my hands. My photographs are me; they are mine: taken by me, and judged only by me. With my camera, developing my film and in the creative process, I am satisfied; I am living in the moment.

I am happy. The warm sun is setting over the rows of red tiled roofs in Seville Spain. I am sitting with a table of absolute strangers, sharing a plate of food, enjoying the fact that I am connecting to people who are completely different than me. I sit with my two college friends and we talk with a girl from Melbourne, two guys from Sydney, two best friends from Houston, one Colombian girl and another girl from Miami. Our ages range from 18 to 30, and most importantly, our life experiences are wildly different. By the end of the night we are dancing and laughing, like we had been friends from high school. That is one of the reasons I love traveling; I love the beauty in connecting with someone over a good meal and conversation, someone who couldn’t fathom the life that I have lived.

Flash forward 3 months and I am sitting at my friend’s house in a suburb 30 minutes North of the City. In between my time traveling throughout Europe, and me seeing my friend Maddie, I had taken up a waitressing job in Washington DC at a reputable wine bar. Her dad and I are discussing my experience waitressing, and we discuss the power of gathering with food. We talk about how America today is too divided. We talk about the disagreements on the climate crisis, on who should be president, human rights, and more. We talk about how people won’t even have a simple conversation with someone who disagrees with them. At the end of the conversation, he shares with me his dream of starting a restaurant with a communal table. I remember the rooftop in Seville Spain, sitting with strangers, bonding over food and good company.

I believe that people need to have more conversations. I believe that a meal, in a communal space, fosters that connection. In Spain, over a good meal, with some wine and small talk, I learned no matter where you grow up, being able to empathize and bond with people who are different than you is important. We all have the opportunity to learn from one another. So let’s have a glass of wine, recognize that at the end of the day the person who you disagree with is also a human, and let’s all try to have some empathy and compassion for one another.

Edited by: Abby Rathbun