How I Remember Tori

Rusty Grim
Aug 31, 2018 · 12 min read

These are the written (and not edited) notes from the eulogy I was honored to give during Tori Robinson’s memorial celebration at the Golden Nugget on the South Fork of the American River last year. Please forgive the typos.

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Maybe a week after Tori’s passing I got a text from Marek. He’d found a list on Tori’s phone of people that she wanted to speak at her memorial — and I was on it.

And while there is only one answer to the question of would I do it, my first reaction was, fuck! Tori put me on her list!

Please think about Tori, and then imagine being on a list where she was asking something from you. We all know that Tori did things all the way. You would take that shit seriously.

This is an honor. But, wow, terrifying as well.

When Marek and I finally spoke on the phone about this event and the list he’d discovered he let it slip that he’d found two lists; a list of people to speak at her memorial — AND — a list of people that she’d slept with.

I am not ashamed to admit that I though, man — that is the better list to be on.

I’m pretty sure Marek was actually only on one of those lists. He also let me know that there were THREE stars next to his name on that list.

I believe I was chosen to represent the bridge years in Tori’s life, her transition between a young aspiring athlete, to a river guide, to a nurse — and eventually a wife and mother.

This specific place — this river — and two different men are a part of that transition.

I don’t remember exactly when I first met Tori, but I will tell you that when I did she had become the girlfriend, and eventually the fiancé, of my high-school best friend and roommate Jeff Olson. Jeff was a US Ski Team athlete like Tori — and we had learned to kayak together in high school. We’d boat together during the summer breaks that US Ski Team athletes had in their training. That summer Jeff thought it would be a good idea to teach his girlfriend how to kayak — and would I find Tori a boat, get them up to this very river, and be his wingman for that day.

Jeff is a wonderful everything-is-going-to-be-fine sort of man. It is a quality that he maintains to this day. But I had my doubts about the whole idea.

Dude, he said to me when I expressed those doubts, she’s World Cup Super G and Downhill skier, it’ll be great.

I had just guided my first season, so I knew where the key to the gate up behind us just off the road, and we put in right at this very spot on this very river. My job was wingman, so I kept my mouth shut while Jeff ran through his version of the basics of kayaking, paddled out of the eddy and hollered over his shoulder “follow me sweetheart!”

By the time we got close to Meatgrinder I realized that Tori wasn’t breathing very well, and Jeff’s kayaking instruction hadn’t gone beyond “follow me” and “keep paddling.” So, even though I was just the wingman, I paddle up to her and reminder her to keep breathing.

Tori was, for sure, coachable.

I caught the eddy in the middle of the rapid, and watched Tori blowfish breath her way down the entire thing. Breathing, because that was at least something and I said it would help.

At the bottom of the rapid I could tell by the way she was reacting to Jeff’s enthusiasm that she had grown seriously skeptical of his judgement and his ability to get her through the day without drowning.

Just downstream she ate big shit and swam the entire length of the Racehorse bend rapid. Jeff was too far downstream so I helped get her to shore. When Jeff paddled up the eddy, he was full of positivity, enthusiasm — adding something about getting back up on the horse.

Tori sat down on the end of her upside down boat, looked straight at him and said “Jeff, as my kayaking instructor, you are so fucking fired.”

She pointed at me and said “number 2, you are now in charge.”

Eventually Tori did fire Jeff. And for good. Certainly not because he was an overly enthusiastic and unsafe kayaking instructor — at least I don’t think that’s why. And, to be honest I don’t ever remember knowing why. They were engaged. Jeff was true blue, he was (and remains) a kind man, a great guy — and deeply in love. But the truth is that she really broke his heart.

I trusted her with the choice and I never asked her why. Jeff, being such a remarkable man, never asked me to take a side. I think for both of those reasons Tori and I remained friends.

I’m so glad that happened, because both Theo (my wife) and I got to be in the room the exact moment that Tori fell in love with the person that would be her partner for the rest of her life.

Fast forward a few years — to this exact same location. I was then a Tuolumne guide and on a crew with Marek. It was pretty early in the spring. Previously, in the winter of that year, I’d encouraged Tori to interview with Dick Linford — one of the owners of our river company. I knew full-well that Dick’s weakness for strong, athletic, intelligent women would land her a job.

So, on this day — the day they met — Tori’s already been through guide school, and moved into the Echo Guide house just up the street for here.

It was customary back then to have an all-guides meeting in the early season. On the weekend of that meeting Marek and I had worked a Tuolumne trip, hopped in our trucks, and did that nighttime trip up Highway 49, straight from takeout to Jamestown, Sonora, Angels Camp — all the way to right here.

It wasn’t super late but the pre-meeting part was in full swing and we could hear that going on as we walked up to the house.

Now, I don’t know much about the laws of attraction. (I’ve been with the same woman for coming up on 30 years). But some of you out there do know this: Tuolumne guides walking into a South Fork Guide house is kind of like Navy pilots walking across the flight deck of an aircraft carrier after having just landed their fighters.

There is a palpable sense of — — confidence.

Marek’s hair was long, his shoulders broad, his smile wide — the only thing he had working against him was that he was wearing a Mexican poncho that looked like a dog blanket with a hole cut in the middle of it.

With that confidence we strutted into the west end of that house full of rookie guides — and right into the party. Sitting on the opposite end of the house, right next to Theo was Tori. When she saw Marek she spun immediately to Theo and said: “Who is that?”

Theo would tell you it was as close to love at first sight as you can get. I don’t even know if Marek and Tori even talked that night. But I do know that later in the weekend Tori went to one of the other guides — a young woman — and asked about Marek. This person told Tori that she should stay away and that Marek was just a player and not boyfriend material.

Undeterred, Tori continued fact-checking, and took that information to Theo. Is Marek a player? Someone told me he’s not worth it. Theo — who went to guide school with Marek and knew him well — set the record straight. While Marek is certainly a fine specimen he’s way more teddy bear than player.

I could imagine Tori thinking about what Theo said, and realizing what was going on — which was that she was now in a competition for Marek.

And Tori was never afraid to compete for anything.

If Marek ever thought he had a chance or choice about anything that happened next it’s probably because Tori let him believe that.

Fast forward another few years — and above this same river, just 10 miles downstream the next phase of Tori’s life — the phase of her life that so many of you in this community have had the privilege of sharing with her — began.

Many of you know that Tori was a prolific sharer that loved to talk about her life. If you ever had the pleasure (and the task) of receiving one of her Christmas letters you know what I am talking about. To fit her past year onto one page — front and back — she had to use 7-point type. One year she spent an entire paragraph of that letter saying essentially that, yes, I know these are ridiculous — but my life is ridiculously good, so you’re just going to have to settle in with me and take the time to get through this.

Those letters were long because of something that Tori learned as an athlete.

We live in a results-driven world. A big part of our society is keeping score counting victories and defeats. We’re building resumés, and lists of accomplishments so we can get into the right school, get the right job, and worse of all — feel good about ourselves in comparison to the rest of the world.

The greatest thing that athletics can teach anyone is that, if you are focused only on those days that you get to stand on top of a podium, then you are missing the point. I can tell you with a high degree of certainty that Tori never became the ski racer that she wanted to be.

We all know Tori — and we all know that she would have wanted — and worked for — it all. She wanted be on top of that podium every time she left the starting gate.

But that didn’t happen. And, if you’re an athlete you know this: It almost never does.

Those letters were long because, like every true athlete knows, it is way better to love every damn day than it is to love trophies. It is way better to love and savour each small victory, and to love the process than it is love the wins.

Tori was absolutely brilliant at that.

I was so incredibly reminded of that when I read one of Tori’s very last posts on Facebook.

On July 22, 2017 she posted: “Day 4 Post Op: I POOPED!!!!!!:”

Now, if you really want to live like Tori — and you should — then this is how you do it.

This doesn’t say — Thanks for your good wishes, I’m progressing. This is REALLY specific. And it isn’t just “I pooped” She’s using serious punctuation to say I FUCKING POOPED!

That’s how you live like Tori. It is really that simple.

Back when Tori was working her way towards returning to the US Ski Team after her accident she came to live with me and my girlfriend in Berkeley where I was in school. I think she wanted some neutral ground and a weight room, but honestly, I don’t remember if it was post break-up with Jeff, or why she came out to California.

I only know I was just glad she chose to be there with us.

She pulled up to our house in her beater Subaru sedan with a crappy gear box on the roof and huge speakers stuffed into the back of the car. On our first trip up to the Cal weight room to train that week she popped a tape in the deck and cranked the fucker WAY up.

At that time in my life I was in my long-hair, Dead Show, Berkeley “why can’t we all get along” phase . As the first hard-rock guitar lick came blasting out of the speakers, I looked at her like girl, what the fuck?

She turned to me, noticed my displeasure, and with that smile she hollered over the blast of noise: “You’re a little bit of a pussy aren’t you?”

So, I shut the fuck up for the rest of the ride.

I think about that now, and I realize that at the heart of every modern American bad-ass is some version of an unapologetic rocker. And she was all that, all the time. Yes, an athlete, a partner, friend, mother and inspiration. But she was also a rocker, someone who was, always, without guise of any kind, herself.

And I think that made her better at all of the above somehow.

When were in the Cal weight room that day Tori positioned herself right behind one of squat racks so she could have some mirror space. She loaded up one of the Olympic bars with some weight and started doing hand cleans. Hand cleans are a super gnarly exercise, and not something you saw many women do back then.

At the squat rack in front of her were these two very big men using the squat rack and pushing sets with well over 350 lbs. The room was crowded with not much space for everyone and I could see their faces in the mirror. One of them was occasionally looking at Tori doing her sets with kind of an irritated look on his face.

Eventually one of them finally turns around and starts engaging with Tori. I look down at his hands, and I can see he’s wearing a Super Bowl ring. It dawned on me that it was Ron Rivera, who played at Cal and had won an NFL Championship as a linebacker with the Chicago Bears.

Ron starts talking to Tori and coaching her on her lifting technique. Tori is all smiles, super accepting of his coaching and keeps smiling that big smile. When he turns around to get back to work, I walked up to Tori and I said, under my breath — Tori, that dude is Ron Rivera.

Beaming at me and says, oh my god that’s incredible, he was so nice to me, that is so cool.

On the drive home, about halfway back to our house, Tori turns down the Van Halen and says to me, Rusty, who’s Ron Rivera?

I’ve thought about that story over the last several weeks. I’ve wondered why did Ron Rivera turn around and engage with Tori that day?

I believe it’s too simple to say it was because Tori was a beautiful — which she was. I think what Ron saw in that mirror was someone that was in love with what she was doing right in that moment. He saw someone that was loving the work and the process and the time that she got to put into something she cared about.

I think Ron Rivera felt that light and heat that emanates from someone who finds joy and meaning in the every single day. And he — like so many of us — wanted to be a part of that.

I promise you that I will try and live like Tori, because that is just a really good idea. I think that is a promise we should all make right now.

So, tomorrow morning you’re going to wake up, you’re going to drink some coffee — and you know what you’re going to do next?

That’s right. You’re going to poop. And not just poop. YOU’RE GOING TO FUCKING POOP!

The community that I share the most with Tori is the river community. People in that community will tell you how meaningful and powerful and unifying that rivers can be. The say how rivers can bring us together, that they are a metaphor for life. But rivers are also boundaries. They divide one side from another. And Tori has now crossed a river — one that we all must cross.

She’s over there on the other side ride of that river right now.

I read a book by an evolutionary biologist that (in my simple reading of it) makes the case that even more than our opposable thumbs, our ability to make tools, and our ability to reason, our species’ ability to become the most dominant on this planet is that we have self-selected for kindness to each other. The book posits that we dominant because we commune.

Tori was a fine example of that self-selection. So good. So good to us all. And in that way, she moved us forward.

I’d like us all to think about that right now. I’d like us to stand up right now, join hands, and mimic the example of another species — one that calls to each other.

No one know why wolves do it. But even if it is only so that they know that they are together in some way — that alone could be enough.

Please join me now. Please do not leave me hanging. Let’s all call to Tori who is somewhere across that river. Let’s together howl and let her know that we’re here.

Hooooooooooooooowl!

Rusty Grim

Father. Husband. CEO & Co-Founding Partner at Owen Jones & Partners LTD

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