A couple of years ago, my grandparents from Virginia came to visit. That doesn’t happen too often, as it’s quite a trip, so we take advantage of it when we get to see them. My sister, grandmother, and I were sitting at the dining room table, looking through old photo albums. Somehow, looking at those pictures started up story telling hour…or hours I should say. My nanny told my sister and I all about her life: her childhood, her parents and siblings, how she met my poppy, and all about my dad when he was young. I might have been twelve or thirteen at the time, but I honestly believe I will never forget those stories.
My grandmother reminds me a lot of myself. She had a great mom that took good care of them, and yet still she ended up with a lot of the household motherly duties. And there’s nothing wrong with that. She had three siblings, two brothers and a sister, as do I. She took care of them and was the leader when she needed to be, as am I. I’ll always remember going to her house when I was younger and playing on the swing set with my cousins, helping her fold the laundry, how excited I was when I finally grew past her, and how we always remind each other that God loves us. She’s a wonderful woman, and I’m glad I’m reminded of her when I look at my own life.
My Poppy, her husband, is one of the funniest men I have ever met. He’s so down to earth, although I’m told he was much like my dad in his younger days. My favorite thing about him is that no matter what’s happening, whether someone’s fighting or we’re on a car ride to dinner, he has a joke. He makes a joke out of almost everything, and I love that about him. I remember once we (my aunt, cousin, and I) were all fighting with my father. We were in a fairly intense conversation, and all of a sudden I looked at him. He simply looked back at me and said “everyone’s crazy and I’m starting to worry about myself.” It made my day. One day I’ll be able to tell my kids about my grandfather, about the walks we’d take with him, how he always smelled like apples according to Cat, how he mistook me for a horse named Mistletoe while he was recovering from a surgery, and his famous Pilgrim song.
My other grandparents are much, much different. Slightly less sentimental, yet equally loving.
My grandmother is basically an older version of my mother. They do everything the same, cook, clean, talk, everything. She has such a dry sense of humor, which cracks me up. Last summer she came up for her birthday. It’s become kind of a tradition of ours. She said that she wanted to go for a walk around our neighborhood, and my mom sent me with her. She’s 83 years old, so sometimes she can be a little shaky. I get a little overprotective sometimes, so I grabbed her hand and we just moseyed along. A couple minutes later, we walked past some neighbors standing outside, and she dropped my hand. I looked at her curiously, and she said:
“Good God, I didn’t want them to think you were my girlfriend!”
“Sorry Grammy, you’re not really my type.” I replied jokingly.
We laughed the whole way home, and that is one stroll around the neighborhood I will never forget.
My grandfather’s just as hilarious. Whenever we walk into their house, he is always sitting at the kitchen table, fidgeting with something. He’ll make us sit down, give him an update on our lives, and always without fail check out our handwriting. Think I’m joking? I don’t remember one visit with my grandparents since I could write that he hasn’t grabbed the nearest napkin and pen and made me write my name, cursive and print, as he sat there and critiqued it. He’ll call me every once in a while now and ask me questions about his knees, or give me something he wants googled. He’s funny like that.
These four people are just a few of many I’ve learned from over the years; the four most near and dear to my heart. Many teenagers and young adults don’t want to take the time to listen to older people tell stories, sit around with them at the kitchen table, or have a chat as you’re folding laundry. What I’ve learned is that those are the best times. The times you don’t expect to have a lesson, are the times the greatest ones occur. It may just be a story about how they’d decorate cookies for their birthdays, but it’s their memories, and they have as much significance as ours do. You want to know how to live your life? Learn from those that came before you. Take what they say to heart, and trust their judgment.
I know this much.
I will always listen, always care.
Always tell my Nanny that God loves her, sing the Pilgrim song with my Poppy, grab my Grammy’s hand when she walks uneasy, and write my name over and over again for my Pop-Pop.
And I’ll do it with a smile.
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