While I had a wonderful mother, there were other women in my life who were influential. I’m sure we all can think of those wonderful women who were – or still are – guiding figures in our lives.
Perhaps other than my mother, my paternal grandmother was most prominent in my life. We saw her often, especially in summer when we would spend time at her and my grandfather’s cottage up north.
While I appreciated my grandmother’s intelligence, work ethic and practicality, she was not one of those grandmas we would run to for a big hug when we visited. Instead, it was, “Come, give your grandma a kiss” when we met. It was not so much a warm, loving request as a crusty command that we obeyed reluctantly. After the obligatory kiss my brother and I would be summarily dismissed and sent away to play. It was the days of children should be seen and not heard.
One time, my brother saw my grandfather’s big, green Cadillac pull into our driveway and he sped out the door shouting, “Head for the hills,” with his younger sister scampering behind him. All that just to spare us the faux show of affection.
My grandmother’s life was very orderly, uncluttered. She didn’t waste words or time and always said what was on her mind, regardless of whether it offended someone. She didn’t let slights fester, but would quickly get them off her chest. I remember her chastising me on the phone when I was a teen for not writing her while she was in Florida for the winter. “I was busy,” I told her, as any teenager thinks their life is. “You’re never too busy for your grandma,” she scolded. Lesson learned.
In later years – she would live to be 94 -- she would tell me everything she did that day. “I had some oatmeal and coffee for breakfast. Then, I did a load of wash and watered all the plants on the windowsill in the kitchen and in my bedroom. I had a nice pork chop for dinner and watched ‘Bowling for Dollars.’” It was a litany of mundane tasks and activities that helped give her day structure.
She lived in an apartment building she owned and kept it very tidy, with Victorian furniture and an array of knickknacks, which always delighted me as a youngster, like the Santa’s castle that played music she put out at Christmas. I can still see her sitting in favorite wingback chair, with the bag of knitting at the side, or handing out presents at Christmastime. She was always the dominant figure when she was in the room.
I remember her apartments having a distinctive smell, not a bad smell, but a combination of the things she cooked and baked based on her German heritage. She’d sometimes make Greek desserts to please my Greek step-grandfather. There was lots of material to soak up smells in her house—thick carpeting, thick draperies and lots of nice, dated furniture, including a teal, feather-filled chaise lounge which both my brother and I found quite exotic.
I guess my grandmother was the first woman I knew who showed me how strong a woman could be. She had two children before she was 20, divorced an alcoholic early in her life, had a career in sales and traveled – at a time when women didn’t often have careers -- and later started her own business.
There weren’t “I love yous” shared, or long embraces, or sweet interactions with my grandma. But there was the example of just what a motivated, diligent, bright woman was capable of.