By Molly Larson
I think we begin to become grandmothers long before we actually hold our first grandchild. We are forming what it is to be a grandmother as children when we come to know our own grandmothers. Some of us have been lucky enough to grow up with them nearby. Others of us might have more than two, due to blended families. And yet some may have no memories or relationship with their grandmothers at all for all kinds of reasons and circumstances. When I write of these women in our lives I include here that certain auntie, godmother, neighbor, sister, or friend that we looked up to when we were children. That elder woman, the nurturer. And I do not exclude grandfathers here nor do I discount their impact. I was completely and utterly head over heels for my grandpa. But today I write about grandmas.
I had two grandmothers. One was sort of the fun grandma, and the other was quieter. The quiet grandma was quite a baker. She expressed her love for us by knitting slippers, baking the most delicious pies, and the VERY BEST doughnuts I have ever tasted. I was very close to my grandpa and I loved going to their house. Although I had six siblings and many cousins, I think each of us wanted them all to ourselves. We would take turns spending the night. I’d call up and ask to spend the night and no matter how tired my grandmother may have been from working at the school cafeteria (of which I was immensely proud), she always said yes, and I never felt like I was overstaying my welcome. I learned a lot from these two and I suspect I will be writing more about them. Quiet grandma packed a lot of beauty on a small lot. She had raspberry plants, rhubarb, and the most beautiful crab apple tree. She would make jams and jellies. Her house always smelled like something good was baking. I went back years later and although the house is no longer in the shape I remember, that tree is still there.
Fun grandma always had her nails done, tinted her hair, played cards, liked adult beverages, and let us wear her ruffly negligees at sleepovers. I really only got to know her after my grandfather died. Family lore is they were devoted to each other, and although she lived many years after he died, I think she was so brave to go on-from my now adult point of view. My sisters and I would go over to fun grandma’s as a group. There might be four or five of us at a time over at her small mobile home. Sometimes it would just be me. I remember one time I dreamed I got up to go the bathroom but wet the bed instead. I was so ashamed and yet she was so matter of fact about it and it was just no big deal to her. That was a moment in my childhood that I never forgot. Not the bed wetting, but her kind and loving reaction to it. Fun grandma would bring us home earlier than we wanted to come home the following day because she had so many errands to do, like going to the laundromat or the beauty parlor. I still remember the ticking of the alarm clock on the bedside table, the rhythmic clicking of her fingernails at the kitchen table, and the sound of the turn signal in her Impala as she drove me home.
Were these people perfect? No. They struggled with many challenges. They lived through two wars, the Great Depression, health issues both physical and mental. But I never really saw any of that nor did they dwell or talk about it. I just felt loved and knew I had two possible places to go when I wanted an escape from our house.
We learn how to be grandmothers from others. My late mother absolutely adored all of her grandchildren. Sadly there are many she never got to meet but I believe she is loving them, still. I know I am lucky to have these memories and am even luckier to experience this stage of life. It is a gift. These women, my friends, sisters, and others have shaped me into the grandmother I am becoming. As I navigate grand-motherhood during the pandemic, I realize I have to find creative ways to keep in touch, and to stay close-so my grandchildren know I love them and that I am here for them, always.