When My Story Ends With Ruth Ungar Of The Mammals

Musician Ruth Ungar found out about her dear friend Hubie's death on Facebook of all places. This was her first taste of sudden, earth-shattering loss. We're talking about the healing power of "good clean dirt," what it was like for Ruth to find out about Hubie's death on Facebook (while she and her husband were on tour), and how music creates a beautiful space for all of us to grieve.

Transcript

Thank you so much for coming on, Coming back, And I'm so excited to have you on the show today to talk about how grief has informed your music. So Ruth, If you could please share your lost story with us. Um, Well, I had a really close friend in college who was part of a very closely knit group of friends that were in the theater department. And we did so many plays together and really remained friends after graduating. Although we were in different places, We stayed in touch through the process of evolving out of our college personas and into grownups, Having kids, Becoming parents. I think the last text we traded was me recommending a babysitter or him recommending one to me. I can't even remember which actually, But that was sort of what had become of our current connection. But he just suddenly died of a heart attack. We were on tour. My husband and I are musicians. We were on tour actually in New Hampshire, Which is where he grew up and where he was celebrated and mourned and all. Oddly, We happened to just actually be in the right part of the country and we just sort of got a hotel room and didn't go anywhere and awaited the throngs of people that showed up to remember him. And it was the middle of October. There was a vibrant rainbow of color in the maple trees. There was an incredibly moving service, I'll call it, But it was really just a gathering of family and friends like I've really never seen in my life. It was a completely shocking and moving and sort of pivotal moment for me because it's really my first close friend of my age that I lost. And the song, When My Story Ends, Is a bit related to that because we didn't get to say goodbye to each other and that's something that's really hard to make peace with because he's somebody I didn't see every day anymore. So in a sense, Nothing's different. But I know that I won't get that other hug or that other moment of remembrance of the old days. And he was one of those people who had an incredibly good memory for stories that I had forgotten. The song just digs into that feeling of what happens when you don't say goodbye and wishing that we could all say goodbye. Some people have the opportunity to say goodbye because they know that they're dying and that has another heaviness with it. And I guess I was just examining from all sides as I wrote the song and really feeling the feeling and letting that loss translate through the song because I know it's something that other people will undoubtedly relate to on one level or another. Absolutely, And I think that rings true not only with me but with so many other grief growers who are tuning into the podcast today as being robbed of that opportunity to say goodbye. And I'm kind of curious, You said this was the first loss of someone who was kind of in your age group, But what had loss taught you beforehand or what losses maybe had you experienced beforehand that would lead up to this? Well, I guess if I had to go back, I'm a child of divorce and an only child, So that would have been number one right there. When I was about seven and a half and my parents split up, I can still remember them talking to me and sitting down and I was sitting on a braided wool rug in the middle of the living room in the house in which I currently live with my family. That's an interesting story there, Isn't it? Yeah, We ended up moving here, Mike and I, In our 20s. We've been here 17, 18 years almost now and we have a 10-year-old and a six-year-old and live in the house I grew up in and experienced so much. And so, Yeah, It took a while. We've been here long enough now that I feel like I've, You know, Saged every corner and made it my own and let it breathe into a new chapter. But yeah, I'm here right now. This is the place where I saw my little perfect trinity of mom, Dad and me turn into something new, Which was totally bewildering and unexpected. And I know I have, You know, Maybe half of my friends are parents are divorced, So it didn't feel like there was a stigma attached to it, Which I think is different than my parents' generation. But it still had the very personal grief that goes along with losing this shape of a family that you thought was completely concrete and eternal. So, Yeah, That was the beginning of grieving, I guess. And I didn't really probably put it into those words at that age. I definitely witnessed both my parents as well, Even though it was somewhat of a mutual decision. I think they both took several years to sort through it. And we all got, You know, I got closer with both of them maybe as a result. And they're still quite good friends, Which is pretty inspiring. They help each other out and are connected, Unlike many divorced parents. So pretty grateful for that. But it was hard as a kid. I hear that for you. Absolutely. And I'm kind of wondering, Something's kind of popping into my brain right now that might also apply to the loss of your college friend. And that is kind of what did you do to reclaim these spaces that you associated with loss, Both this home that you live in now, Which you say you saged, Which is one way to definitely reclaim space energetically. But in addition, Maybe this town that you went to while you were on tour, Maybe other places that you shared together, Just the idea of reclaiming space in regards to loss. How have you done that? Well, That's really interesting. I think that I go to nature. I really connected as a kid to planting an herb garden. It never thrived. But I remember it was mine. My mom is an incredible gardener, And I've never achieved anything along the lines of her gardening success and just innate green thumb. But I was inspired by it, I guess. And notably, After my folks got divorced, I was raised by my dad. My mom was the weekend and summer parent, Which was pretty apropos and fun. And my dad was the responsible weekday parent. And so maybe when I missed her throughout the week, Maybe that was when I would find that patch of dirt and really dig my fingers and my nails into it. I haven't thought about that in so long. This is pretty moving stuff, Actually. But yeah, The sights and smells of doing that and just that feeling that it was growing and that it was being nurtured by me. Maybe that was in part. I think that's what we do. I've seen even my kids, If my daughter is upset, She'll sometimes comfort a doll or stuffed animal. It's a thing we do, Isn't it? Right. We have a tendency sometimes to transmit our grief to physical places or physical objects, Or our missing or our longing. Yes, Absolutely. And I like the metaphor of gardening, Too, But that's one that I use quite a bit in my grief work with the grief lovers and the idea of coming back, Like flowers and plants come back every single year. I'm almost getting goosebumps thinking about this herb garden thing because maybe about 10 years ago, My stepmom, Who I'm also very close with, Had brain surgery that didn't go very well the first time. They eventually went back in and got everything and she's doing great. In fact, You probably wouldn't know if you met her, But there was a very touch and go period where she was recovering from that first unsuccessful surgery in a coma for maybe a week, Induced. And I'm telling you this because when I visited her, She's also very interested in plants and botany and I brought her a potted plant that I had created of three herbs that I knew that she really liked. And I brought it, You know, Many people show up in a hospital with cut flowers, Maybe a bouquet, But this was a potted thing, Which I don't think was a sanitary and I don't think they really wanted it in her room, But I snuck it in there. And when I put it on sort of held it at her chest, And she couldn't yet speak really in more than one word, But she just stuck her fingers. And I didn't expect her to do that. And like, I, You know, It was at the moment I thought, Oh man, I'm going to get in so much trouble. You know, But, Um, We love that memory and laugh about it together still because I want her to smell those smells. She's someone who loves smells. And there was lemon balm and rosemary and thyme. And those were like vocab words that she built back in that first week of relearning how to talk. Oh my God, This is so intense. I haven't really thought about all this herb gardening that I've done. Very, Yeah, Minimalist herb gardening. I absolutely love it though. And we have such a connection that we need to like be in the dirt, Like something happens to us when we haven't seen the ground or the water, The like open sky for a long time. I like that we're veering off in this direction. I really do. And this is kind of the thing that happens on coming back is I'll ask you about your lost story and then a couple other questions and we'll kind of just, The grief is a meandering path. And it's so cool that herbs and plants and smells and dirt. I think it's good clean dirt. I don't know about it not being sanitary in a hospital, But I think it's good clean dirt. Yeah, No, I agree. To get put in there, I absolutely love it. And the idea of reclaiming spaces, Even hospital rooms with a little bit of dirt or like plants is really refreshing. Oh, That's cool. I kind of want to go back to the months, Days, Weeks, Years after the loss of your friend kind of where was your heart emotionally kind of the wandering space of navigating this for the first time? Oh, It's so hard to. I'm a, I'm a, I'm a crier. So I'm doing my my level best here to navigate how to talk about this. Okay. I was in Saratoga Springs when we first caught wind of this, And it was on Facebook. And I was checking Facebook after a little recording session that we did. And there was a picture of him. And it was like a fun picture. And somebody posted a sentence like catch you on the other side, Brother, Or something kind of, To me a bit flippant or, Or could have been interpreted in a couple of ways. I thought, What's that about? And then I started reading the comments. And it was, I'm so sorry. Oh, You know, Those type of comments that make you go. Oh, Shit, What happened? Like, Wait a minute. I am I reading about this in a Facebook comment thread? Like, Why is my life is really happening? What is happening? I mean, I got angry, Honestly, Because I don't think that's the appropriate way to find out. Something like that. So I immediately called the couple of friends who I know, You know, Would have seen him more recently. And yeah, Then we were just crying and processing and it was full on. And we're all dispersed all around the country, Because that's what happens with your college friends. So there were a lot of long phone calls at night. And then like I said, We sorted out a way to rendezvous at the land where he grew up, His family was hosting. And when I walked in, I walked into the yard, I walked onto the deck, I had never met his parents before. He's actually someone who has birth parents and adoptive parents, Who all know each other. And who I'd heard about for many years, But never met. And I just started crying. So like, I just started crying when I saw basically his eyes. What were in, As it turns out, His adoptive mother. But she just looked at me. I said, You don't know me. But she said, I don't, It doesn't matter. I can see how much you love my son. And I was like, I don't know. She just gave me like the most massive mom hug. And I felt so welcome in this place I'd never been. And everywhere, You know, Were pictures of him from every age, Friends from every era and every part of his family and stories. And like I said, It was really an incredible celebration of his life. And a dizzying experience. His body was there, Which they had sprung from the New York City hospital and driven in the dead of night up to New Hampshire. I was very impressed with that. I didn't know you could do that. I thought that was pretty amazing. And yeah, I feel like there was an art project on the table. There was some kind of like fabric flags that we were all decorating and hanging. And that was a really constructive way to focus if you wanted to sit and do that. His daughter, I think, Was eight or nine and was running around and being a kid, Which was amazing. And yeah, I've sort of reached the edges of my memories of that day. But I really did connect. I think what happens is you see all your mutual friends and immediately rattle off to each other, Like every fact or memory or image from the past that you don't want to forget. Because you know that from this point on, You know, It's up to us now to remember. Yeah. Can you, Um, I'm getting this image now or even this phrasing now of inheriting memories, Becoming the new keepers of memories as we lose our loved ones around us. And I'm curious because we haven't mentioned his name yet, But what is the name of the person you lost and just who was he to you in your life? A little bit more about him as opposed to just, Okay, Sure. Thank you. Um, Well, Not only did he have two families essentially, But he also had two names. He's a man of duality in every way. I knew him as Hubie van Real and H-U-B-I-E. And then I believe his actual name was Pahoe van Real, Which his bio mom told me means a sacred bundle of sticks. I think Pahoe is a native word. Anyway, He, Uh, He was known when he was little as Pahoe and then he became Hubie and then he was Hubie all through college and then, Um, And then became Pahoe again. So I have some friends from New York City who like the Brooklyn crowd who knew him as a dad in which case, And that point he was, He was back to Pahoe. So, Um, We were really good friends. Um, I, It's hard to elaborate too much on the way that that group of people and, Um, And the theater department at Bard College were like a large, Somewhat dysfunctional family, But we were, We're really close. So we went through a lot together. Um, He was a year older than me, So I think as a freshman I really admired him and the other sophomores and sort of like tried to emulate them all. And then we just all became really good friends. That's so cool. And I love the, The surprise name. Um, That's too funny because then you're almost like, Wait, What kind of, What kind of past is this coming from? You know, Trying to smuggle things out of the country or, You know, Like an alibi or like, Have you authored a book that I don't know about? Um, Which is always fun. The funny thing is, Is that all the people who knew him from all those different chapters knew the same guy though. That the multiple names was not at all relational to any kind of multiple personas. Oh sure. Okay. That makes perfect sense. Yes. That's always the first thing that jumps to mind though when you hear somebody has a different name. Who are you? You know, Moonlight. That's too funny. Yeah, He was a, He was a really great actor. He was a really great, Um, Innovator. He used to invent things. I remember he also wrote songs. He also played guitar. He was in the middle of making an album when he died and I really liked to help finish it one day. We talked about that and haven't made it happen yet, But I'd like to get there. Um, He invented something. When you carry a guitar in a hard shell case, It's more well protected, But if you live in New York City and you ride the subway, You might carry it in what's called a gig bag, Just soft shell case. And then the tunings, The tuners at the top get knocked and it gets knocked way out of tune. So I invented this thing that fit over the top of your guitar. It clipped on like a little hat onto the top of your guitar headstock and it just provided a little bit of extra protection. It's called the Graduate 2000. I still own one, Which has got my initial in it, Which he made and sent me because he knew I played guitar. That is so cool. He invented all sorts of cool things. Yeah, That was one of the neatest things about meeting people who had been hanging out with him more recently. I was hearing about some of his newer inventions, Many of which were fun for his kid. And, Um, I think, Um, Yeah, That was, He was always really crafty and innovative and coming up with wacky approaches to solving problems. But at the Bard Theater Department back in the day, These days there's a beautiful theater there. When we were there, It was a black box theater where almost everything was old and in need of repair, Which meant we learned to repair everything. And so, Yeah, We were a crafty bunch. That's so much fun and I love that he kind of left that energy behind for you also. Yeah, I recently cleaned out a closet, Found my Graduate 2000. It's called that because it looks kind of like a mortarboard. Oh, Sure. Yes. Exactly. So I found it the other day and I knew I had it, But just like holding it in my hand was pretty powerful. Oh, Yeah. And grateful that I have that. I have also some other recordings that he sent me of his songs and all of them very like hand lettered packaging. So all that stuff becomes pretty precious. Oh, Absolutely. And it's so true for any of these like tidbits that we find after loss. I'm curious now because we are talking about guitars and musical instruments and all that jazz. How Hubie's death affected your music or your ability to create period and then kind of where the song came from? Well, We had a show in Keene, New Hampshire, Maybe the day or two after. And I was a mess. I had to tell the audience what was going on because it seemed that every single song related in some way and made me cry. So that was a challenging period. And I've had moments like that. Actually, This is reminding me. Our dear friend Sonia Cohen attended one of our shows a month to the day before she died of cancer. She was a childhood friend and having her in the audience very frail, But completely herself had that same effect where every single song took on a meaning that related to her for me. And so I think that that's a period of time. Sometimes there are songs that are poetic and obtuse enough to allow all sorts of personal meaning in. And that's maybe the best kind of song. And wow, I'll even segue into the fact that my dad, Jay Unger, Is pretty well known in the fiddle and violin world for having composed an instrumental called Ashokan Farewell. It's a beautiful tune that Ken Burns used as the PBS Civil War series theme. And so for people who watch that and for people who knew the tune before that or in other ways, It's everyone. It's just like people in the fiddle world, People in the violin, Classical world, Everywhere know this tune and know it as something that makes you cry, Even though it has no words. So you're completely injecting the meaning into it or you're remembering the moving scene from the documentary maybe or something from your own life that you associate with it. It's been played at countless weddings, Funerals, And all sorts of celebrations. I have a friend whose dad passed away a couple of years ago and she sent me a video of, I believe it was her uncle performing the tune on a harmonica at the service. It was really amazing. All sorts of people out there who I don't know who have this association with the tune. And that is to say, Sometimes there's space within music to process a feeling. And there's not that space anywhere in our lives. So music absolutely, Even without necessarily tugging at your heartstrings particularly, Creates this safe environment in which whatever's happening can happen more fully. And I try to write songs where I do that myself and then I'm inviting you to do it. And then I realize through that tune of my dad's and the lots of other waltzes and beautiful airs and things that he plays, And even the lively fiddle tunes. I cry when I hear fast tunes sometimes because it makes me nostalgic or happy or I cry tears that I don't even understand. I've definitely had situations with this new song when my story ends where people came up to me afterward who were very freshly experiencing a loss and they were blindsided by my song. It might have been a little more than they had bargained for when they set out to go to an evening of live music and entertainment and they weren't really thinking that was going to happen. I haven't had anyone complain but I have had that like, Wow, Oh man, When I heard those first couple lines I thought, Do I have to run out of the room? And that's understandable. There's all sorts of levels of ready. So would you say that music, Performing music, Writing this song is what helped you come back from his death or were there some other things people, Outlets that supported you as well? Honestly, I think connecting with his family, That made it feel very real, Which otherwise it wouldn't have felt. I needed that immediately. And then writing a song that I sing over and over and over is a really good way of processing. And the song isn't 100% about who be and that loss. It's about, I suppose it's really more about me after it. It's about me now looking back on what I hope. And I've thought about artists like Kurt Cobain or other people who left behind songs where, Okay, Now the person's gone and we're going to play back this lyric and draw meaning from it. I'm acutely aware that while I'm not as famous as Kurt Cobain, There's plenty of people who might pull out a song of mine if I'm gone and go, Here's the line that tells us what we want to hear now that she's not here to say anything. So I guess I was almost writing my own epitaph or obituary or something. It just sounds creepy. Right on the show. This is the place for it. It's sort of like some version of a creative living will or something. I basically am just trying to lay it out there. I hope we got to say goodbye and if we didn't, We're cool. Whatever it was, It's okay. And I have a verse at the end that I call my happy agnostic verse because I consider myself to be one of those. The word agnostic just makes you think like confused or undecided, But I'm happily unknowing. And the verse says, What do you see in the trees? Or the soaring of a dove? Is it a father's plan or mother's love or a universe just swirling and the stars up above? I don't know, But it fits me like a glove. And I guess it's corny and very direct. But what it means to me is, You know, Some people will state certain things in nature as evidence of divine creation by a single, You know, Cloud man hand or whatever. And then some folks will take that same beautiful objects in nature as evidence for science or mother nature or, You know, Chemistry or the big bang. So I guess I asked the question. I'm not really answering it. I'm just asking, What do you see? It could be any of these things. And I don't know, But I don't have to know because I'm a part of it. Whatever it is, That's what I know. I know I'm a part of it. He was a part of it. We're all part of it. And I feel like experiencing loss and being close to death, Or not that I was personally close to death, But I felt I was close to and dealing with the ideas of death in a real way that is unusual. It really made me want to be alive and want to realize how well I fit into the what you might even call the community of life. That's beyond just humanity. That's all living things, All of nature. I really feel like just like we were talking about sticking your hands into the dirt or smelling the plants. And just I don't want to lose that connection for a single minute while I'm lucky enough to still have it. Gosh, That gives me chills. I've gotten chills more times in this interview than I care to admit. And I think it's because walking alongside nature is something that resonates so closely with me. But yeah, Bringing it full circle, Stick your hands in the dirt, Be alive, Be a part of it. Yeah, No kidding. Wow. And I hope, You know, And I'm not trying to poke fun at anyone who has very concrete beliefs, Spiritual beliefs. I hope that verse is written with enough of an open door to just say, It's all good. I'm wondering for sure as we're wrapping up the show today where people can find your song for Hooby when my story ends and also just where they can find you and Mike and your work and what you're cranking out in the music world. Thanks so much. Yeah. Well, Mike Miranda is my husband and musical partner for almost 20 years, And I'm Ruth Unger, And we have a band that's called The Mammals. And we started The Mammals a long time ago with our friend Tau Rodriguez Seager, Who's the son of Pete Seager. And I'm sorry, Grandson of Pete Seager. And Tau being raised in that tradition, You know, We're sort of Hudson Valley folk folks. So we connected and started this band. And then there was a period of time where Mike and I traveled around as Mike and Ruthie. So we have recordings under the Mike and Ruthie name with the Y at the end and also under The Mammals. And our newest album, The Mammals album Sunshiner, Has the song When My Story Ends that we've been talking about. It's available everywhere that you find music. But if you want to connect directly to us, I would go to themammals. Love, Believe it or not, At the end of that website. So you can find the whole album there. And there are a few other songs that, To me, Really connect on this theme a little bit. There's one called Maple Leaf that I also wrote that, To me, Is about really staying connected to being alive and being grateful for that as long as we can. And Mike's title track, Sunshiner, Is a pretty beautiful song. The chorus, Yes, My daddy was a miner, But I'm going to be a sunshiner, Kind of harkens back to the old mining songs. And it also, I think, While honoring the past, The recent past, It's a look toward the future of renewable energy and moving forward into this next chapter. So there's a lot in the album. I think it takes a few listens to finally come up with what the overarching theme is. But I think the theme of Sunshiner is really shining your light as brightly as you can and staying connected and staying with what makes a difference for you and the people right around you. And then seeing where that takes us as a whole. That makes my heart so happy. And I love that, Just like Grief, Your album has these layered meanings. You're like, I'm going to go over this again and again and again and again. And you listen to it with different ears every time you come to it, Too. And I think Grief and music are very parallel in this way. So I've enjoyed this conversation a lot because music is something that I've carried with me since before I could talk. And my mom visits me a lot that way. And so I just love this multifaceted. . . It's a deep level. It's exactly what you said earlier that music talks to us in a way that goes beyond speaking and lets us drop into that place of, Okay, Now I'm opened up to anything happening. Music is almost like another permission slip that lets us grieve, Which is really cool. So thank you so much for joining me today. I'm so in awe of you and your husband, Mike, And your work together as well. Yeah, Well, Thanks for having me. I love that music is a permission slip. That's awesome. I'm going to keep that.