granny

For those of you who follow my writing you will know that I usually stay away from serious topics, however with the recent passing of my granny I had to step away from the usual and put down some memories for her. So this one is for granny…

One of the things that I think about the most when I think of granny was that she was tough as steel which I always found in such stark contrast to the emotionally sweet side of my grandpa. Granny was the strength of them as a couple but in a unique balance that they achieved he was her rock. And they were both the loves of each other’s lives. It has occurred to me while I am writing this that I always think of them together and there are very few memories of granny that don’t also include grandpa – what a wonderful thing that says about their relationship.

I remember grandpa telling me stories of how he would finish his shift in the shipyards of Baltimore (which ended sometime in the small morning hours) and drive to Alexandria Virginia to be at granny’s house for breakfast and to take her to work. He would see her for less time than it took him to travel the route in a single direction and he did it every day. She was that special to him.

I remember them holding hands in church on Sundays and granny would put her head on his shoulder sometimes, and it was always so endearing to me.

One of the most touching pictures of them that I have ever seen is when they were a young couple. It was taken in a small photo booth, the kind that snaps 4 pictures in about 15 seconds and hopefully catches a perfect moment…they were so in love that all 4 were perfect. The pictures were black and white and grandma is sitting, snuggled against grandpa’s shoulder, she has a soft look in her eyes and grandpa is all smiles. The pictures were small, just slightly larger than postage stamps, and grandpa kept them in his wallet from the day they were taken, when granny was 19, until the day he died. The lovely treasure about the two of them was that he would take out those pictures and show them to me often and get misty eyed because he always saw her that way.

They would tussle too, of course, grandma could be feisty and very sharp witted, no doubt part of what grandpa liked…even though he grumbled. Grandpa owned his own plumbing business the entire time that I knew him and granny was the receptionist, secretary, accountant, scheduler, and office manager and in the days long before cell phones I can only imagine what a challenge she had keeping up with him. Granny was very well organized and more than one intense discussion would erupt over the disturbance of her filing system or the disarray that grandpa would visit upon her work desk. But most likely my favorite to watch, because it happened almost daily, was when grandpa would come home and unload his top shirt pocket. This was grandpa’s rolodex, receipt log, appointment book, and accounting system, all on 3x5 index cards…written sideways, on the back, and upside-down. He would hand them to granny and she would have to decipher from his scratched notes, where the next appointments were needed and when, what supplies were used, and who to bill!!!! All things considered it is a wonder that they didn’t fight a lot more than the minor skirmishes that we were privy to.

Granny would look after us before school most mornings when my brother and I were younger – and granny could really worry a topic to death…contrastingly grandpa was a seriously quiet man…perhaps because granny wouldn’t let him get a word in :) … but back to my reminiscing. One particular morning I was at the table, suffering through breakfast (I have never been and am still not a morning person) and granny was going at a topic with the vigor of a bull terrier while she went from room to room straightening and as she stewed her way down the hall, grandpa snuck out the back door. That in its self is amusing but it gets better, granny kept at it and after him for a full 10 minutes…and then from the back room she called his name.

“Charles?”

“Charles!”

Oh dear! Poor man, he should have just gone on to his first rounds…but no, he came back into the house - adorably enough, to kiss her goodbye - and granny lite into him like a Christmas tree.

One of the stranger moments of my life was when I came over to their house one day unexpectedly from college and I caught my grandparents fooling around – don’t worry gentle readers I will spare you (and them) the details. But it is completely fabulous that these two people, who at the time had been together 50 years, still had the hots for each other. (not quite what I was thinking at the time, I could not get out of the house fast enough, it was my shortest visit ever!) Yet now, I view it as one of those simply wonderful facets of love that their spark and passion for one another remained through trials, sickness, children, grandchildren, successes and challenges. I cannot help but snicker when I remember it and I am still not certain who was more embarrassed – me or them. We never spoke of it. Mutual understanding, I am sure.

Granny loved to cook for us and far and away my favorite was her Pennsylvania dutch pot pie. It was a heavenly dish of beef, strips of dough, and potatoes all simmered in a rich broth. Best food on earth. But she wasn’t always a fabulous cook. When she first got married she couldn’t boil water :) much less make her famous pies, fudge, and beef stew with biscuits. (I could eat my weight in her biscuits!) According to stories I have heard she used to practice cooking dishes while grandpa was working in the shipyard and then if the recipes didn’t turn out well she would throw them out before grandpa would get home so he would not know. Very funny for my practical and non-wasteful granny!

A particularly favorite story of granny’s to tell was the first time she made ‘pot-pie’ for grandpa. Now grandpa was from Pennsylvania and granny was from Virginia which doesn’t seem like a large geographical distance but for cuisine it was like night and day. So granny spent the day making ‘southern’ pot pie, complete with pie dough, chicken, peas, carrots, in a standard pie pan and cooked in the oven. What grandpa was expecting was Pennsylvania dutch pot-pie, cooked on the stove top with the afore mentioned beef, potatoes, and dough strips…serious miscommunication in culinary language. And while, according to granny he ate what she had prepared and said it was good – he had been thinking of the other dish all day and was sorely disappointed. She got the real (Pennsylvania dutch) pot-pie recipe from grandpa’s mother and I never remember her making a southern style pot pie again!

The simple and sweetest memory I have of granny in the kitchen, is when grandpa would come in from work and she would be cooking at the stove and he would walk over and give her a kiss and then swat her on the backside. “Charles!” she would always exclaim, in a voice so unlike the one she normally used for us grandchildren and others, it was full of both false affront and flirting in a way that is almost impossible to describe, but I can still hear it clear as if they were right in front of me. This was the woman, not the granny, and she was wonderful, passionate, strong, genuine, and sassy.

So in my final words I will say this because it is how I think of them now – grandpa and granny holding hands, strolling down the beach collecting seashells and being so in love, with all the time they could ever want. To be together, to laugh, to love, to hold each other into the long sweet years that they get re-acquainted – god-speed – you are loved and in my heart forever.