JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Congratulate me, everyone, I’m a
grandmother! Little Paulie* arrived last week, a full ten days before his due
date, throwing us all into confusion. He must get this from my
daughter-in-law’s side of the family, because I guarantee you no one on the
Hugo-Vidal camp has ever arrived that early to anything.
*He looks just like Paul Sorvino in Goodfellas
Right now, my grandmotherly duties are keeping the new parent’s two dogs, which, if you’re keeping score at home, makes for four dogs and two cats, one of which is my younger daughter’s $15,000 guy. It feels as if my house had been invaded by needy toddlers, which, I suppose, is a good preview of the future.
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| Like this, but bald, no cigar, and in a onesie |
I’m excited about this new stage in my life, in part because my own grandmothers played such an important role in my life. I was lucky to have three: Grandmother Spencer, a loving fluffy bisquit of a Southern woman, Grandma Fleming, who magically always had fresh-baked cookies when I stopped at her house on my way home from high school, and Grandma Greuling, a no-nonsense Adirondacker who let me help in her antique shop and told me stories about my family going back to the 1600s.
None of my grandmothers took me on vacations or showered me with expensive gifts. They let me be with them while they sewed, gardened, baked, refinished furniture. They loved me for who I was and listened to me no matter what. What a gift for any child!
Reds, what do you remember about your own grandmothers?
HALLIE EPHRON: I remember my grandmother was very old and wrinkly and spoke very little English and with a thick accent. She always had a coin or two in her pocket for me.
She lived in an apartment nearby and came to our house once
a week and cooked. She made the world’s best thin, crisp cinnamon cookies which
I’ve never been able to duplicate. I got to cut them out and brush them with
butter and sprinkle on cinnamon.
She also made the world’s best chopped liver. Don’t groan, it’s delicious.
She’d start by rendering chicken fat from chicken skin (I stood by the stove
hoping to grab off some of the crispy bits). And end by chopping sauteed
livers and onions that had been cooked in the chicken fat, seasoning with
plenty of salt and pepper, and chopping in a massive wooden bowl which I still
have, it’s bottom cross-hatched with cut marks.
I never got a chance to ask her what life had been like in
Russia, how she and others in her family managed to flee, what it was like to
go through Ellis Island….
If you have a living grandparent, ASK while you can still get answers!
HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: My father’s mother was elegant
and gorgeous, beautiful with icy white hair and the best clothes, and a
wonderful cook who made lemon pancakes in the shape of our initials and dusted
with powdered sugar. She made amazing chicken soup, and kreplach, and matzo
ball soup, and a wine cake that no one could ever duplicate–and she had
written out recipe cards with NO quantities, so no one could
possibly make her dishes again. She gave me a typewriter, when I was
about 9, which was so life changing. (It came in a little suitcase.)
I did ask her about leaving Russia, and she started talking about what a lovely village her family had lived in and what lovely soldiers came to town, and I soon realized she was about to tell me her own fairy tale, and I’d never know the real story. I did ask her to write it down--she typed it on my typewriter! And it is still somewhere.
My mother's mother was very..quirky. Ethereal, and fragile.
From another time, it really felt. I have no memory of her ever saying a word
to me.
When my parents were divorced, I also had my step-father’s mother. She once said to me, when I was 10, maybe: “I love you as much as I would love a real grandchild.”
LUCY BURDETTE: My mother’s mother was Lucille Burdette–she
was a painter, very kind and gentle. Sadly, she died when I was about seven so
I don’t have lots of memories.
My father’s mother was little and fierce–we still tell stories about how she bossed my grandfather around. My mother was afraid of her, and my uncle didn’t have too much good to say either. Even so, I admired her sturdy toughness and John fears I’ve inherited too much of her:).
I feel like grandmothers of today seem much younger and more active. Congratulations Julia!
RHYS BOWEN: Congratulations from me too, Julia. You’ll love this stage of life.
My mother’s mother raised me while my mother worked (female
teachers were required during the war), then came to live with us when my
grandfather died, so she was always a huge part of my life. She was tiny and
gentle. I don’t ever remember her raising her voice. She showed endless
patience and kindness to me, which was great because my mother was always
overworked and stressed and had no time for me. She lived to 91 and ate like a
sparrow.
I didn’t know my father’s mother as well. We went to visit her frequently but it was always a formal visit, not playing with her as with my other grandmother. But she was a wonderful cook. I remember her sausage pie with her homemade red cabbage pickles. Still drooling! And when she died, when I had just got engaged, she left me her wedding ring, which I had melted into my own ring.
I am blessed to have been part of my grandchildren’s lives since the day they were born. When they were little II had to make up fantastic stories for them. Also chased them over climbing equipment, Such happy memories.
DEBORAH CROMBIE: I only knew one grandmother, Lillian, known
as Nanny, my mother’s mother. A widowed school teacher (I knew neither of my
grandfathers) she came to live with us when I was born. We shared a room until
I was about six, when my parents built an addition on to the house for her so
that she could have her own space. She was the gentlest person I’ve ever known,
although she must have been really tough to have raised four kids mostly on her
own during the Depression. She was unfailingly kind and encouraging to me and a
good buffer between me and my mother, who was a much more demanding
personality. She taught me to read and to be interested in the world and we had
many adventures together. She died at 86 and I still miss her.
JULIA: How about you, dear readers? What are your memories of a grandmother - or grandfather?
