Saturday, November 28, 2009
Great-Grandmas Are Rare Treasures
I'm lucky to have spent a lot of time with both these grandmas when I was a little kid. My great-grandma, however, was my preferred companion. When Mom would let me walk up to her house and spend all day there, those were the best days.
I'd push "Shave and a Hair Cut, Two Bits" on her front-porch buzzer, and she was always glad to see me when she came to the door. There was an endless supply of pink-peppermint candies in a bowl on the oak library table in her front parlor. That's where I'd head to right away.
Standing on my tip-toes, I could barely reach the bowl. "Better have two," she'd say kindly when I looked up at her for permission. Compared with the far more restrictive rules enforced by Mom at home, this kind of indulgence was one of the many reasons I loved my great-grandma. Just about anything I wanted to do at her house was fine with her.
She was a quiet woman, who listened to my chatter but had little to add. I wonder now if maybe she couldn't hear me that well. In her late 80s and depending on a cane for mobility, she never seemed to complain, even while slowly making her way upstairs with me for our aftenoon nap.
Today whenever I envision her face, she is always wearing the same little smile as in this photo. She died when I was about 12.
Yes, I was a lucky little girl. Great-grandmas are rare treasures.