Stories about Izzy
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From:
Izzy's Mom (Pen-name Emma Scott)
Last year Isabel turned 10 and Bill turned 50 and that was a pretty momentous occasion. With the help of my brother, Bob, I finagled Hamilton tickets in Los Angeles. An unforeseen commitment came up for Bill on the date, so he gave me his ticket.
Isabel and I flew down to Los Angeles together. We stayed in a hotel together, we got dressed up together, and put makeup on together. It was an unplanned mother-daughter experience and I’m so grateful for it, for so many reasons.
Lin-Manuel Miranda had been one of Isabel‘s greatest musical and artistic inspirations. Bill Hairston and Lin-Manuel were her heroes in that capacity, and she had already been a huge fan of Hamilton before we saw it. The musical is set nearly 250 years ago and yet we are still fighting the some of the same battles for equality, humanity, and what it means to be American. In short, it was the perfect show for Isabel who was a brilliant singer/songwriter and actor in her own right, and also felt so passionately about the rights of women and minorities, and who believed that all people deserved a shot.
She enjoyed it so much and afterward we walked out of the theater with stars in our eyes. We joined the river of Hamilton-goers, and headed down the sidewalk, to wait on the street corner for the light to change.
There was a homeless man with a shopping cart, and a dog, and a sign asking for help on that corner. I waited with Isabel, with that crowd of people, the light changed, and we crossed the street to our hotel. A few steps later, and I realized she wasn’t next to me. She was a step behind me, crying. Tears streamed down her face.
I asked her what was wrong and she said, “There was a homeless man on that corner asking for help and all of those people waited to cross the street, but none of them helped him. Or even looked at him. They pretended like he didn’t exist. Why?”
And she didn’t say it, and she didn’t have to, but that crowd included me. She was asking me too.
Immediately, I jumped to Mom Protective Mode where my first inclination was to protect her from the pain she was feeling. To minimize it by minimizing the situation. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that she shouldn’t cry, that everything was going to be OK, that there were shelters the man could go to etc etc
I’m so thankful that a deeper instinct told me not to say any of that, but to talk to her and ask her about her feelings.
In the hotel, she was still upset and her main confusion was why nobody else was upset. Why was no one else crying like she was? I gave her the only answer I felt was remotely honest and said it was because we have all seen homeless people all our lives. Especially if you’ve grown up in a big city like Los Angeles or San Francisco, you become used to it. And she looked at me and she said, “That’s not a good enough reason.”
And she was right. She was 100% right.
I wanted to fix the situation by changing her reaction, and she wanted to fix the situation by changing the situation. She was not content to let that man become the background scenery to her life. It was not acceptable to her that he was in that condition, and it was doubly unacceptable to her that no one was doing anything about it. Treating horrible things as commonplace or ‘normal’ is why they persist. I wanted Isabel’s pain to go away, but telling her that her feelings were too much, or to just accept that the world can be dark and ugly, was never going to be the right answer. Action was and is the answer. The only answer.
Her tears stopped only when she grabbed a sheet of hotel stationary and wrote a letter to Dianne Feinstein. We mailed it as soon as we got home. Because Isabel had integrity. It didn’t matter that we’d just seen an amazing show, or were dressed up, or were staying in a nice hotel. If nothing, that highlighted for her what was out of place.
Isabel never let me pass a homeless person without giving them money. And if I did not have money to give them, she insisted I go get money. And I am so happy to know that Talía shares her sister’s compassion in that sense, or maybe she learned from Isabel’s example. I know that I have learned from Isabel, more than I taught her. And one of those lessons is that integrity doesn’t mean you care when you can, or only sometimes, or when it’s convenient. But that you never stop caring. Even if it hurts.
Countless people have reached out to us—we’ve been so blessed with support and love—and many have expressed to me that they wished we weren’t hurting like this. That there was something they could do to take away the pain. And I want to tell you that there is something you can do, and that is to keep Isabel‘s memory alive in your hearts and minds, and even in your deeds.
From: Kaitie Reister
I’m part of the book world, I know Emma through there. I haven’t met her personally but book friends are the best. That being said I’ve never met Isabel either.
But I do have a story.... I’m not sure why I did it at the time but Isabel needed some cheering up. It might have been around the time with her scoliosis. Anyways I got Emma’s email address and sent an e-card, just something to make her smile. Emma told me both her and Talia loved it! So I sent e-cards for the next week just to make the girls smile. It isn’t much but it’s something that puts a smile on my face when I think of Emma and her family. And of Isabel 💛🦋
From: Kathy, Izzy's Grandma
My favorite story about Isabel took place last February in my favorite city, Dublin. We had spent four glorious days in Ireland and this was on our last day there. We were at Trinity College quad, headed for I forget where now. Isabel saw the sign that said Library and of course she started heading in that direction. Jen told her to come another way, we would see the library later. I chuckled a little because of course she wanted to go where they keep the books.
Isabel, who had a highly developed sense of justice, asked me, "What's so funny about that?" I assured her I wasn't laughing at her, but was amused that she wanted to see the library first. I told her I understood, as two of my kids were readers too. I pointed out that her parents had two kids, and both were readers. Then I said that I knew of some people whose kids didn't read at all. With a look of pure horror on her face, she stopped dead in her tracks and shouted, "How do they live?"
Like me, she couldn't imagine life without books and reading. She knew all her letters at the age of 14 months!
I have to add another thought here. In the past few weeks, we've heard countless stories about Iz, her kindness, her smarts, and her compassion for other people. Maybe what's getting lost here is the fact that she wasn't born that way, that she was the product of superb parenting by Jen and Bill. Having been raised in a 27-year military man's home, I at first thought they were way too lax in their discipline. Different generations, ya know.
As the years went on and I saw what incredible kids Iz and Talia were and are, I absolutely changed my mind. What I wouldn't have given to have a tenth of the freedom of expression and deep conversations that Bill and Jen shared with the girls. They did an incredible job with those babies, and I'm in awe of their skill, compassion and smarts in handling their daughters. Just wanted to add a shout-out to two amazing people who raised two amazing people.
XOXO