Rodney Rea Gradnigo

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Rodney was one of my favorite people in the world. I will truly miss him. He and I met when he worked the Columbia Salon and I worked in the building for a law firm. That was maybe 1994 and he cut my hair ever since except when I lived away from Seattle.

When he didn’t have a client, he’d stand outside looking good in his black clothes and black hat. He was a handsome black man in building that was almost entirely white. He stood out (literally) and had no hesitation about talking to anyone he wanted. I think our first encounter was me just walking by the salon and him commenting on my clothes. Shortly later, a guy in my law firm recommended I go see Rodney to have my hair cut. I made the appointment not knowing his name but I immediately recognized him, and he remembered what he had said to me at first meeting. He that way with people.

He became a very close friend, although our lives had different patterns. I worked long hours in the law firm and had a family. He lived alone and regaled me with his dating exploits. I moved out of town twice, but we reconnected when I came back.

He also spoke openly about his experiences in life and specifically how race affected so many encounters, about how it affected his relationships with black and white friends alike. Rodney didn’t care your race, although he had lots of funny, colorful comments about everyone. Always offered through the lens of learning and experience and with care for others. He was free of judgment, at least to me. That is incredibly rare among people.

Rodney was also maybe my closest Christian friend. We could speak openly about our faith and religious practices. He called me “Preacher Man,” partly because of my faith and partly because I could get my hair to stand up like a televangelist, especially when I would come in needing a cut. I once saw a poster with a picture of such a hairdo. It had a caption that read “The bigger the hair, the closer to God.” We both laughed about that.

Rodney embraced the mysteries of faith–the parts we don’t and will never understand. I have no doubt his faith was with him to the end. I kind of regret not asking about that when I would call him in the hospital, but I didn’t want to discourage him and fully expected him to recover.

Rodney had a big picture on his wall I’ll never forget. It was a sketch of a middle-aged back woman with her hair up, wearing a house dress and wading up to her waist with her hands above the water. When he would tell me about living a little too fast and needing to slow down–especially for the sake of his health, or when he would have an episode of anger toward God, I would point at that picture and say “Wade in Water, Baby. Wade in the Water.” He knew exactly what I meant: God was present. Always there. But he needed to commit again, like wading in. There’s no dipping your toe. Ultimately, you’ve got to immerse yourself, even if we have to do it again and again as we go through life.

From Rodney, I heard stories about his family. It was apparent that he had a big family that loved each other, even as, like all families, I heard of many disagreements. Covid has been so cruel in keeping us from our loved ones who are sick. I’m sorry for his family to have lost Rodney at this distance and under these conditions. My heart goes out to you.

I miss him. My heart breaks for him, his family his friends … We had some great times together. I will never forget our conversations about Time & Space, the bible, tv or movies. He did the best of anyone on my hair. My friend, gone too soon!!