The memories of the grandmothers have been visiting this week. Sometimes they gather just to remind me of my roots and sometimes they come because I call them. This visit is because they wanted to come. The Grandmas span several generations. The oldest is my Great Grandmother known to me as Grandma Lulu. Lulu was 4 ft. 8 in. if she stood up straight. At her heaviest, she weighed about 98 lbs. soaking wet. Life was hard for her. She was married to an abusive man whom she divorced in age when divorce was shameful. She married my great grandfather, Smitty and together they had two daughters. Pauline died as a toddler from German measles. Amelia, my grandmother, died in childbirth with my father. The story goes that the doctor was drunk and Amelia started to hemorrhage. The doctor didn't respond appropriately resulting in Amelia's death.
Life threw Lulu more than her share of grief but it didn't dampen her playfulness. When I was little we would play dress up and have tea parties. We would dance around the living room in our finery as she sang "Sidewalks of New York" or "The Band Played On." These dance sessions usually ended in gales of laughter.
Lulu had an imaginary boyfriend named Mr. Snicklefritz. She would make up wonderful stories about this extraordinary suitor. One Halloween when I was about eight years old I dressed up in one of my father's old jackets. I put a hat on and rang the doorbell and announced Mr. Snicklefritz had come to call. Despite the fact I was laughing so hard I could barely speak, Grandma Lulu went right along with the charade.
Another one of Lulu's charms was the the third drawer in her dresser. It was devoted entirely to candy, any kind you can imagine. Lulu lived with us down South in the winter because the Boston snow was too much for her at her age. She would ask my mother, "Can the girls have some c-a-n-d-y?" Guess what was the first word I learned to spell.
Lulu was also addicted to the soap operas which my sisters and I were not allowed to watch. My mother and great-grandmother would argue about this point. Lulu thought they taught us about life. My mother thought they were trash. Mom won. No soap operas for us until we were out on our own.
The National Enquirer was a grand source of news for Grandma Lulu. She loved that newspaper. Never an approved reading choice by my parents for their daughters. It says alot about my mother that Grandma Lulu brought that tabloid into the house, watched her shows and had a bottle of medicinal brandy stashed in the laundry room of a tea totalling house.
You couldn't help but love this quirky, delightful woman. She was charming and endearing, frustrating and opinionated. I think it is because of her I have bubbles in my office which I blow on a regular basis. Thanks to her my imagination runs wild at the slightest whiff of a good story. Life fascinated her and she passed that curiosity on to me.
I am glad she has stopped by this week to remind me that it might be time to let my inner child out for a walk in the park or dance around the living room. That is her gift when she visits. But she never comes alone. She hauls along the other Grandmas with her when she drops by. It is always good to see the Grandmas. They make laugh and remind me that I am loved.
Stay tuned. I'll tell you about the other Grandmas tomorrow.
Life threw Lulu more than her share of grief but it didn't dampen her playfulness. When I was little we would play dress up and have tea parties. We would dance around the living room in our finery as she sang "Sidewalks of New York" or "The Band Played On." These dance sessions usually ended in gales of laughter.
Lulu had an imaginary boyfriend named Mr. Snicklefritz. She would make up wonderful stories about this extraordinary suitor. One Halloween when I was about eight years old I dressed up in one of my father's old jackets. I put a hat on and rang the doorbell and announced Mr. Snicklefritz had come to call. Despite the fact I was laughing so hard I could barely speak, Grandma Lulu went right along with the charade.
Another one of Lulu's charms was the the third drawer in her dresser. It was devoted entirely to candy, any kind you can imagine. Lulu lived with us down South in the winter because the Boston snow was too much for her at her age. She would ask my mother, "Can the girls have some c-a-n-d-y?" Guess what was the first word I learned to spell.
Lulu was also addicted to the soap operas which my sisters and I were not allowed to watch. My mother and great-grandmother would argue about this point. Lulu thought they taught us about life. My mother thought they were trash. Mom won. No soap operas for us until we were out on our own.
The National Enquirer was a grand source of news for Grandma Lulu. She loved that newspaper. Never an approved reading choice by my parents for their daughters. It says alot about my mother that Grandma Lulu brought that tabloid into the house, watched her shows and had a bottle of medicinal brandy stashed in the laundry room of a tea totalling house.
You couldn't help but love this quirky, delightful woman. She was charming and endearing, frustrating and opinionated. I think it is because of her I have bubbles in my office which I blow on a regular basis. Thanks to her my imagination runs wild at the slightest whiff of a good story. Life fascinated her and she passed that curiosity on to me.
I am glad she has stopped by this week to remind me that it might be time to let my inner child out for a walk in the park or dance around the living room. That is her gift when she visits. But she never comes alone. She hauls along the other Grandmas with her when she drops by. It is always good to see the Grandmas. They make laugh and remind me that I am loved.
Stay tuned. I'll tell you about the other Grandmas tomorrow.
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