"The old are the precious gem in the center of the household." Chinese quote

Today is National Grandparents Day....apparently. I did not know that but from all that I have read it is so. Part of me wants to say it is just another marketing day for businesses...buy buy buy. But another part of me wants to say that there is always a good reason to remember and celebrate that special segment of our population, grandparents. With that in mind I have spent some part of this day remembering how special my grandparents were to me. 

My maternal grandparents, Henry and Viola Chapin.

 
My mother's relationship with her mother was a little tenuous, probably due to the fact that when my mother was 2 my grandmother felt overwhelmed with the responsibilities of raising a toddler and handed her over to relatives to help raise her until she was just entering her teens. In truth, I think I would be inclined to do it the other way around.

Being the grandchild I saw my grandmother differently and looked forward to those days when we would drive down to the train station to pick her up for a stay at our house. She made me laugh. I made her laugh. I thought she had a big and beautiful smile. She spent time with me.Her visits were a happy spot in my little life.

 My mother's relationship with her mother may have been a struggle but her relationship with her father was close and happy. He was a funny funny man. And a little irreverent. I can remember him lying on the front lawn waving to cars with a piece of lettuce between his toes. Why? Just for fun. After his gall bladder surgery he charged me 5 cents to look at his scar but let me younger sister look at it for free. Why? I will never know. Whenever he called and I answered the phone he would always respond "Helloooo Ruby!" Why?  I haven't a clue. The first word he taught my little brother to say was "Hydrogen Bomb". Why? Who knows. That was just him.He loved fishing and would take my sister and I with him along with his radio so he could listen to his baseball games. The sound of a baseball game on the radio today still reminds me of him. 



Oddly, we never EVER visited my grandparents in their home. They always came to see us. I do not know why but it is quite unfortunate that we never got to experience visits to Grandma and Grandpa's house. I am left wondering what their house looked like, smelled like, felt like. A big missing piece in my life.




My paternal grandparents: Giuliette and Alfred Frueh. AKA: Banta and Grammie.  

Quite the opposite. Totally. We spent lots of happy hours in their home, both in their summer home Connecticut and their winter home in NYC.  Banta, an artist, was quiet but creative and magical. Their home was filled with Banta's carved creations. Creations that especially appealed to children, such as the creepy skeleton head that popped out of a box when you poked the proper button.  He made his own wine which we were always allowed to sample (a tiny amount) at family get-togethers. He hated the city and loved he country, spending most of his time in his country home plodding around his acreage in his bare feet.

Grammie wasn't a "laugher" like my maternal grandmother. She was a take-charge lady but had a warm and caring heart. She knew every corner of NYC and enthusiastically showed it to us all, including the Bowery where we had to step over half-conscious  bodies on the sidewalk. She introduced us to the Automat, the Christmas  windows in the department stores, Central Park (both the good and the ugly), Radio City Music Hall, the subway, the ferry and taxi cab drivers who she would entice into a rather argumentative conversation about Mayor Laguardia. She was not beyond embarrassing you in public such as the time when she loudly asked my sister, cousin and I, at a crowded city bus stop, if "our bowels were doing okay". Really? In front of everyone? Before we could recover and give her an answer she continued...."because if they aren't I can give you all some prune juice". To which we all quickly nodded our heads and said "They're good. They're good". It was the Italian in her.

Four very different people with their own unique personalities. But all very special in their way. I loved them all and am so fortunate to have had them in my life for as long as I did. I will always miss them.They were a wonderful bridge to the next generation.

 "Everyone needs to have access both to grandparents and grandchildren in order to be a full human being."
Margaret Mead

A very wise woman............ 

 

Some days are just really.......perfect.

I can remember the day that I turned 8. The first thing I did when I woke up that morning was check myself in the mirror because I was sure that I had grown overnight. Now that I was 8 I HAD to be taller. Right? Didn't every 8 year old do that? Conversely, one of my fears the day that I turned 70 last month was that I was getting shorter. It is a fear turned to reality because, yes, I have been slowly shrinking. It is just one of those age things that you can't reverse, like gray hair, furrowed skin and severe gravitational pull on body parts. I have to admit that I have never been bothered by entering a new decade but the thought of turning 70 was difficult. Okay, maybe terrifying is more like it. Probably because I remember reading obits in the paper when I was young and saying "Oh.........he was 70. Not a surprise. He was old, It was his time". And here I am, on the cusp of "old". 

I need to record this birthday in my memory blog because my siblings made sure that I had the best birthday I have ever had. "We want to all get together for your birthday", my sister said. "Where and what would you like to do?". Since we all love the outside and quiet places (a genetic gift from my father) we decided to meet at Bartholomew's Cobble in Ashley Falls. If you have ever been to Ashley Falls you know that it is a wonderful place that time forgot. There are no big box stores, not even any little stores. Just farms and mountains and fields of corn and the Housatonic River. No traffic. No noise. A trip back in time.

We staked a claim on a wonderful little screen house that is secreted in the woods that few people know about. There we enjoyed a family lunch together (like Thanksgiving in September) with no bugs. Everyone very patiently tolerated Paul's need to know the ingredients of everything that went into his mouth. Next time he will probably hand out a check-off list so your ingredients can be quickly and easily evaluated for him. After lunch came birthday cake. Thank you, Lauri for that sinfully good cake. It has been years since I have had a birthday cake. What a treat. And presents! Who doesn't like presents! All so carefully chosen. 

Feeling sated and happy we took off for a hike to the top of the hill and then settled down to recuperate, catch our breath and savor the reward of a breathtaking vista of the Taconic and Berkshire Mountain range.

We then continued on down for a hike along the river, past the largest tulip tree I have ever seen. We heard owls. We heard quiet. We saw forests that looked magical. By the time we finished it was almost 5:30, the end of a truly mahhhhhhhhvelous day.


I can't thank my family enough for thinking of me and spending this day with me. I hope this means that my sister has forgiven me for playing dentist with her and sticking sharp objects up her nose instead of in her mouth. Done when we were children, of course. You are all so important to me and I can't think of anyone I would rather be with. I don't want to get all mushy sentimental BUT, really, what a wonderful gift my parents gave to me when they gave me these 4 very special people. Family means everything. I remember  when we children used to bicker my mother would say "little birds in their nest must agree".  Wise words, Mama! And I know Mama was smiling on us today. The only thing she really wanted was for her children to be happy together.

 
You have all made me very happy.  Thank you......