Some people see through the eyes of the old
My ninety year-old grandmother visited us this past weekend.
She called me two weeks ago to tell me that she was feeling wonderful and would like to visit. Without hesitation, I told her to make flight reservations.
My grandmother graduated from Miami University in the late 1930s, after growing up in Mount Vernon, Ohio. Her mother died when she was still a girl. Her father was a physician, but even before the Great Depression, his patients couldn’t afford to pay him. Her older brother became a mortician, and my grandmother became a high school math teacher.
My grandfather was also a high school teacher – industrial arts – and he took my grandmother to the teacher’s picnic, where it was “love at first sight”, as she put it in her storytelling this past weekend. They also had their first brush with future fame while teaching together.
They married on Flag Day in 1941 and moved to Newark, Ohio – where my mother was born. When my mother was about a year old, my grandfather enlisted in the Navy and was deployed to the Pacific. My mother and my grandmother traveled by train to San Francisco to see him off. Shortly after returning home to Newark, my grandmother discovered she was pregnant.
My aunt was about eight months old when my grandfather returned from the war. As much as my grandfather tried to help with the baby, she was frightened by him – a stranger, as far as she knew.
Upon his discharge from the Navy, my grandfather found a job with a furniture company in Illinois. However, he was unable to find a landlord there willing to accept renters with children. Fortunately, he was soon hired by the VA Hospital in Dayton, and my grandmother stayed behind in Newark with their children until he found a home for the family.
The home that he found was in a development set aside for veterans. The house cost $11,700, and a $2,000 down payment was required (which they borrowed from my grandmother’s brother). It is the house where my mother, my two aunts, and my uncle grew up – the house where my grandfather lived until he died, and the house where my grandmother and my aunt still live today.
They moved in on Valentine’s Day, 1947. My uncle was born less than three months later.
It was a two-bedroom, one-bath Cape Cod, with an unfinished basement and a catwalk upstairs, plus a single car garage. Thanks to my grandfather’s knowledge of industrial arts, it is now a four-bedroom, three-bath Cape Cod, with a finished basement and a wonderful upstairs where I spent hours and hours as a child.
But those improvements didn’t come quickly. Ten years later, when their youngest child – another little girl, my youngest aunt – was five, the three older children shared the front bedroom (much to the girls’ chagrin – my uncle took great pleasure in teasing and antagonizing them), while my youngest aunt still slept in a crib in my grandparents’ bedroom. My grandparents shared a bed that was bigger than a twin, but not as large as a double. The joke in the neighborhood was that with a bed like that, it was a wonder they only had four children.
I’ve written before about how I grew up seeing my grandmother every week and how wonderful she has always been, so one of the most incredible parts of her visit was watching the interaction between Tacy and her. While CJ – whose manners are still being refined – mostly wrung her hands and wagged her index finger at Gran, shouting, “No! No! No! No! No!”, Tacy had looked forward to Gran’s visit all week, as did Kyle and I.
She slept with Gran every night, and the two of them giggled together as if they were at a slumber party before falling asleep. In the mornings, she carefully scooted out of bed so as not to disturb Gran. She appointed herself guardian of Gran’s “hurricane”, making sure it was always within reach. She drew pictures and presented them to Gran, who admired them and carefully tucked them into her bag.
Kyle carried an armchair down to the basement so that Gran could sit comfortably while she watched the girls play. He brought her stacks of photo albums to peruse. He cooked two of his best chicken dishes (her favorite), held her arm wherever she went, and came home early from work both Friday and Monday.
For my part, I sensed a role reversal between Gran and me. Although she stopped driving when I was still a child, she still took me all over town. We routinely walked miles together – to the park, to the shopping center, to her allergy shot appointments – and often took the bus downtown for lunch and shopping. As a child, she served me meals, wiped the counters, and loaded the dishwasher. I explored and admired her home, slept on her linens, bathed in her tub, and used her air freshener.
Almost thirty years later, the situation is opposite. She rode shotgun with her cane in her lap as I drove with my two young children in the backseat. Kyle prepared meals for all of us, and I wielded the Windex afterward. Kyle made her bed, and I drew her a bath, helping her in and out of the tub. She made one journey upstairs to admire the girls’ rooms, the office, and our room, marveling at the space we enjoy. The space that I’m ashamed to admit we often take for granted.
Despite how often I saw my grandparents as a child, I don’t think I spent nearly enough time asking them to tell me stories about their lives. Although neither my paternal grandparents nor my maternal grandfather were ever as loquacious as my grandmother, in retrospect I’m sad that I wasn’t more tenacious in my attempts to ask them about themselves and their lives.
This past weekend, I attempted to rectify those oversights, as best I can now. I want to listen; I want to know. It’s my turn to listen.
October 11th, 2006 at 8:18 am
Bwah! I’m totally crying about this one. So sweet, Julie.
October 11th, 2006 at 9:26 am
Wow–that is SO wonderful that she was able to come and see you! What a treat for all involved. The picture is priceless.
October 11th, 2006 at 9:36 am
Awesome. One of my grandmothers died when I was 18–after a lengthy illness. The other died in her 80’s in a similar fashion. To have what you have? Priceless.
October 11th, 2006 at 9:39 am
That’s wonderful. We lived far away and I definitely missed out a bit.
Knowing the stories of the older generations gives us roots, a solid feeling of where we came from, a strength we might not find elsewhere.
Thank you for sharing this. Even if a family does not remember the past, or did not have a pleasant history, it’s never too late for the current generation to rectify that for the future.
October 11th, 2006 at 10:44 am
isn’t it lovely when we’ve finally quieted down enough to listen…and to see our family for who they are, rather than what they represent (am projecting here, yes, ok). what a weekend gift for your kids, your grandma, and you.
October 11th, 2006 at 10:50 am
Thanks for the touching story – my condolences
October 11th, 2006 at 11:05 am
So well put, as usual. I was lucky to have both sets of grandparents within walking distance growing up. Having my parents and DHs parents half a day drive away is really difficult for me, I feel guilty in some ways. In others I like the fact that we have to be deliberate and plan for time together and hold it sacred rather than take it for granted.
October 11th, 2006 at 11:09 am
Wow, it sounds like she’s had an amazing, full life!
And she went to Miami in the 30’s? Wow, I’d love to talk to her to find out what it was like back then. (I graduated from Miami also.)
October 11th, 2006 at 11:36 am
I. Miss. Clara.
That was beautifully written. Thank you. And what is it with Grammies and air freshener?!
October 11th, 2006 at 11:39 am
My husband and I no longer have grandparents living. We regret not hearing their stories.
Beautiful story of generations.
October 11th, 2006 at 12:21 pm
A wonderful post, your grandmother sounds so interesting and has lived a fascinating life–it’s good that your children were able to see her and talk with her to hear her stories first hand.
October 11th, 2006 at 12:46 pm
That sounds wonderful! My Grandma died last summer right after my first cancer surgery. She sent me one last little card, which I will cherish forever. In the card, she told me she knew her time was soon, and she was hoping it would come before my radiation for me so I would be able to come to her lovely visitation service…even in preparing to die she was being thoughtful! I wish I could have had a little more time with her! Your stories are so beautiful!
October 11th, 2006 at 1:46 pm
God she is adorable. And grammies are so special. Even crazy inlaw ones.
Okay. Maybe that’s a stretch.
October 11th, 2006 at 2:44 pm
What a wonderful post!! I feel so lucky to have two grandmothers still alive and living fairly close to me (I used to have three).
October 11th, 2006 at 4:32 pm
She looks fantastic! It sounds like you had a wonderful weekend.
October 11th, 2006 at 8:20 pm
Wonderful picture and wonderful story!!
Thank you for sharing with us.
October 12th, 2006 at 1:45 am
as someone who never got to know any grandparents, good for you for making such a special time of it. that picture is precious. you are so loverly. i wish i had a grannie.
October 12th, 2006 at 7:11 am
I’m glad you got to have your Gran around. I really treasured the time we had together with my maternal grandmother. She really helped us a lot while we were growing up. She was a fighter til the end, she passed away 3 yrs ago and I still miss her lots. Enjoy your time w/her.
October 12th, 2006 at 8:22 am
I can see a family resemblance in the photo. I’m so happy that you have her and that she was able to travel to visit you. How wonderful for all of you but especially your girls.
October 12th, 2006 at 1:35 pm
You make me miss my Granny.
October 12th, 2006 at 4:39 pm
What an incredible gift to have your grandmother a visible part of the lives of your children. So rare these days, really. She’s beautiful and sounds like an amazing woman. Enjoy her.
October 12th, 2006 at 5:29 pm
That was a moving post – thanks for sharing. I spent alot of time with my grandmas before they died and I’m sad that my future children will never get to know them like I did.
October 12th, 2006 at 10:00 pm
The mere fact that you appreciate her through this blog speaks volumes about what kind of granddaughter you are. She’s lucky to have you just as much as you are lucky to have her. This was beautiful, Julie. And what a sweet picture!
October 13th, 2006 at 4:56 am
I love to read about your grandmother. How lucky you are to have her (and vice versa.) I’m so glad she made this trip and at 90 no less. You and your girls won’t forget it! What a treasure. Love the beautiful photograph.
October 13th, 2006 at 11:21 pm
Oh, what a lovely story. My tears are flowing at the picture. Sigh.
October 17th, 2006 at 12:34 pm
It is so true, Julie. I wish I could convince my grandmother to record some of her stories so I can save them up and hand them down.
But I do love the picture- what a treasure!
March 11th, 2010 at 7:16 am
[...] my grandmother died, it was my daughter’s first experience with the death of someone she knew personally and loved very much. I explained that Granny’s body had worn out – that her heart couldn’t keep [...]