I think about Grandma all of the time these days. I still have the vanity dresser that she gave to me when I was 13. It’s a focal point in my adult bedroom, just as it was in my teenage bedroom. It’s part of the bedroom set that Grandpa bought for them when they were first married in 1927.
I remember when it was in their house on Clinton Heights and it lived in the “green room” — that’s what we called that room with the two twin beds and the double bed, which was of course, green. Oh, that room! (That’s where we cousins were jumping one afternoon from bed-to-bed-to-bed-to-loveseat-to-hopechest-back-to-the-bed-again and where on one of those fateful leaps I fell and broke my arm… but that’s another story.) The vanity dresser sat in the dormer of that room and it was the perfect little space for it.
Stephanie and I never slept in that room when we spent the night at Grandma and Grandpa’s on the weekends when my Mom was singing and Dad watched from the audience. If we did sleep upstairs, we slept in the blue room, but that was rare and only when we were older. Sometimes, though, I would go upstairs and I would sit at that vanity and write in my journal. I would open the drawers and explore. There were small boxes of buttons — I remember that — and thread, but I don’t remember what else was in those four drawers. I remember writing in my journal there — I actually probably called it my diary at the time, now that I think about it. Aunt Donna (my Godmother) gave me that diary for my birthday. I confessed my preteen angst and I’m sure some fear and uncertainty too. I also remember self-consciously glancing into the mirror every now and then while I was writing. I remember wondering what Grandma did as she sat at this vanity and looked at herself in the mirror when it was in her bedroom.
It’s funny, because even now when I look in that mirror and sit at that vanity, daily, I still wonder what she thought and how she felt. Now, I keep my makeup in one of the drawers and hair brushes and hairdryer and curling iron in the others. I have her photo, my perfume, and sometimes some fresh flowers from my garden on the vanity. I look at her sometimes — so young in that picture, only 18, I think — as I’m getting ready. Sometimes I am just getting ready for a work-at-home day (every day these days) on Zoom client calls. Other times I am getting ready to perform at a show with the band (this hasn’t happened in a while). In either case, I look at her photo and it gives me strength.
When I look at that photo, particularly recently, I think about the fact that she had nearly her whole life in front of her when that picture was taken. She was just 18 years old, and yet, it was 1923 so she had lived through so much already. World War I was over. The Influenza Pandemic of 1918-1920 was a memory. She would have been in school when that was happening, just like my daughter Eva is now. I think often about how strong she was to have seen and experienced so many hardships in her lifetime and also experienced so many wonderful things as well.
She may not have realized it when she was in the midst of raising seven children and being a partner to her husband — or maybe she did, I don’t know — but she was running a business like me. Her business, though, was her family. I think about all of the cooking and cleaning and managing of the household she must have done with all of her children and a husband who had his own business. I would venture to guess that most times when she sat at this vanity she was tired. But she rarely let that show, at least not to my knowledge. She was almost always doing something. I think the only times I saw her sitting were when she was eating, or sewing, or watching The Love Boat with me and Stephanie on Saturday nights, but even when she was “doing” she knew how to “BE” with the ones she loved. You could feel her fierce love for her family in everything she did. This is something I think about as I navigate my life on a daily basis. Aligning my values, my words, and my actions. I feel that she did that every day — at least it seemed that way to me as a child growing up. I try to bring that into my life today as well.
Some things I think about when I think of Grandma:
- Cooking a meal from scratch is a way to show love to the people you love.
- It feels good to help others and do for others.
- Food is nourishing and delicious and can be something that brings family and people together.
- You can make beautiful and creative things out of everyday things you have at home: hello Halloween costumes! My favorite costume that she made me was a cross between Glinda the Good Witch and a Princess. She used an old pink quilted bathrobe of hers and embellished it with so many things. It was so beautiful. Oh and there was a gypsy costume she made for me — she used an old dress of hers and added fringe and buttons and beads and scarves — it was perfect!
- Red raspberries taste like summer. Every time I eat one, I close my eyes and think of the bushes at the back of her yard on Clinton Heights. Some days I would go back there and look for the super red, ripe ones. I would gingerly pick one and quickly pop it in my mouth, savoring the sweet taste and feeling the sun on my face.
- It’s really handy to have an apple tree in your backyard, especially when you bake pies and make apple butter. Grandma had the best apple pie and the best apple butter.
- There are so many uses for old bread bags! One use is to put them inside your shoes and over top of your shoes if it is wet outside. Sure, the ones on the outside become pulverized as you run around, but your feet don’t get wet from the rain or the puddles. They will be sweaty though. (This makes me laugh every time I think about it!)
- There are so many uses for rubber bands! I don’t know all of these uses, but one of the uses is to create a huge rubber band ball that you can bounce around the kitchen. Lots of fun for kids!
- There are so many uses for twist ties! There aren’t as many twist ties these days, but I do have a collection of bread tags in my kitchen drawer as an homage to Grandma. They are surprisingly handy when you are washing dishes — great scrapers for stuck on food!
- She would have loved the messaging of Reduce — Reuse — Recycle! Living through The Great Depression and raising a large family she was ALL ABOUT THIS!
- Ice cream is the perfect dessert on nights when you don’t feel like making or having pie or pineapple upside down cake. “Ice cream just fills in all the cracks! You are never too full for ice cream.” This is a direct quote from Grandma.
- She was small in stature but so big in my heart and my mind.
- She was fierce and compassionate, generous and kind, thoughtful, and action-oriented.
- When Stephanie and I were little and we spent the night at her house she could have had us sleep upstairs. There were two perfectly good bedrooms up there and four beds between them, but instead she made me a bed on the couch (or davenport as she called it) and put Stephanie on a cot next to me. She left the light on. It wasn’t easier for her, but she knew that we felt scared to be “so far away from her” upstairs.
- Front porch swings are the most wonderful inventions. I loved sitting on her front porch swing in the summer, especially at night. Sometimes she would come out and talk with me there, but more often it would be Grandpa because she would be “finishing something up” in the kitchen.
This list could go on and on for a long time. In fact, each thing on this list is probably a story in itself. For now, though, I will just leave this here. Maybe it will spur some of your memories of Grandma, too.
Whenever I think of her and all of these memories, I am acutely aware that she is still with me. This is how I have always felt. And even though I do have her vanity and use it daily, all I have to do is look down at my own hands to feel close to her. I see her hands in my hands. They are small but strong. I remember the first time I noticed this was when I was living in Boston after graduating from college. I had moved there about six months after I graduated and even though there were things that I really liked about living there, it was hard. One day I was riding home from work on the train and I was feeling particularly down and weary. I looked down in my lap at my hands and I realized that my hands looked just like Grandma’s. It filled me with relief and comfort. When I got home to my apartment that night I wrote this poem:
IN THIS CITY (1996)
I saw her hands today — Grandma’s.
They were on the train.
Hands that were loving and kind, here
On a train that is crowded and stuffy-rude.
They don’t fit in this city.
Her hands live on Clinton Heights,
In Ohio’s apple pies and
Homemade Halloween costumes…
They are hands of hugs and
Squeezes and tender-safe goodnights,
Calm and mothering.
They are not hands of city
Subways and faceless crowds,
But they are here,
Maybe to tell me that I am
Not alone.
Sean
Such wonderful memories. You captured so much of the essence of being with Grandma and Grandpa! ❤️
I have to go get some Kleenex now!
heather
Thanks, Sean. <3 It actually brought tears to my eyes while I was writing it as well.
Michelle H. Schwartz
Indeed, the sound of Grandma’s soft, gentle, voice that could project with determination when warranted, comes to mind and a flood of memories. For me, I will always remember the dress she made me for St Patrick’s Day, and my 3rd birthday. It had a pinafore and matching fabric ribbons. When I was 7, I wanted a dress with a red and white striped pinafore, like the one on Lucy’s Toyshop. She could not find the same width red and white fabric, so she substituted a thinner red striped material. Though it was not identical to Lucy’s, I always believed mine was even more special because it was made for me with love.
heather
I love this story, Michelle! Everything she made, she made with love.