This isn’t a contemporary industrial design aftermath, this is a bench designed with a very specific purpose. The purpose to keep the marginalized, the wandering, and the severely underdressed citizens of this country off of them. If you have not seen these in your oh-so friendly neighborhoods, then you will soon. There aren’t many solutions that I can offer, but it makes me think about how we might come to measure value in a person’s life – and yeah I am guilty as charged, but now what am I going to do with what I can’t unsee.
If you know anything about my grandfather… please do fill me in about him.
It was an oddly ordinary day as I came back from the very usual things that I would be doing on any given week day, when my mother asked me to call my grandmother and to make some time to see her soon. This may sound normal, but it definitely would be a strange request as my mom has very much a disdain for my grandmother, and for them to be on the phone is greatly out of the ordinary. I do not blame her for the bitterness though, my mother’s marriage to my father had been nowhere near perfect – as were her in-laws. That’s how I knew that something was not well when she told me my grandmother had contacted her out of the blue.
She cooly handed off the memo that my grandfather had been diagnosed with cancer and my grandma was hoping that we can stop by soon…
See, the thing is… we do not live very far from them, I would say about 30 minutes away, and this is because we moved away recently. Up until this past summer, we only lived 5 minutes from my grandparents. Looking back, I would honestly have to say that there were little to no motivation to see them. Not because I was angry or bitter, but merely because too much time had passed and we just didn’t know each other as a family. It was only a given title of formality.
This is not something that I’m proud about, who would be so bold to take pride in a broken part of their life? And this is where my struggle begins.