My nana died in 2003, but she still inspires me.
As a mother, Nana received mixed reviews from her children. But as a grandparent, Nana had a marvelous second act, a comeback. And isn’t that what being a grandparent is about? A do-over, a second chance, a revival?
Nana inspired me because she survived shit. Her father died of typhoid fever in 1921 when she was seven. He left behind seven children and a pregnant wife before the social safety nets of Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal. Nana grew up poor and hungry. When she turned twenty-one in 1936, she voted for Roosevelt.
After she turned nine, she worked summers picking beans in the fields around West Bend, Wisconsin. When I was nine, I picked dandelions. Seven months after the stock market crash of 1929, she graduated from eighth grade. She yearned to go to high school, but her mother told her she had to work. Shortly before she retired from waitressing at sixty-eight, she applied to Milwaukee Area Technical College. She worked toward her GED, tutored students in math, and took college-level courses in English and psychology all at the same time. She was sixty-nine when she earned her GED. I was a college student.
Nana lived by one of her favorite maxims, “A penny saved is a penny earned.” On a low-come wage, she saved change until she and her first husband had enough money to move from their low-income neighborhood and buy their own home, the smallest house in a middle-class neighborhood. She wanted her children to have a better life than she had. She was widowed at forty-seven, but she worked hard to keep her house and pay off the mortgage.
Nana inspired me because she loved each of her seven grandchildren, which included my three cousins, with a passion. She forgave our mistakes and bad behavior and defended us against our common enemies—the parents. To her each of us was special and beautiful and interesting. She gave us lots of hugs, kisses, and Cracker Jacks. She played Button, Button, Who’s Got the Button? and Cat’s Cradle with us. She told us stories and sang to us. She danced with us in her kitchen. She loved Bobby Darin and 50s rock-n-roll. Her favorite dance was The Twist, which she danced at my wedding.
Nana always had time for a phone call. I memorized her number before anyone else’s. If I called and was upset, she listened. I once tested the limits of Nana’s ability to listen by following her around her house, describing the scene-by-scene detail of a movie I’d watched and loved. Like a typical ten-year-old, I thought every detail of a story was significant. At some point, I realized I was boring her and that she kept leaving rooms, hoping I wouldn’t follow. I began testing her limits. I waited for her to say, enough already. If she had, I wouldn’t have blamed her. But she didn’t. I’d love to say I have the same patience with my grandchildren when they prattle on about a movie or video game, but I don’t. I find a way to change the subject. But I didn’t admire Nana because she could do what I could do. I admired her because she could do what I couldn’t do.
Nana loved me even when I behaved like a brat. When I was about eight, I wanted her to buy me a troll doll from a drugstore. I whined and cajoled and dropped a few tears until she folded. She took me back into the store and bought me the doll. She wasn’t happy. She couldn’t afford to be frivolous with her money. She bought us Cracker Jacks because they cost a quarter. The troll doll cost over a dollar. “You’d better not lose that doll,” she snapped. After we walked back to her house, I asked her for a comb and a few bobby pins. I spent the rest of the afternoon rearranging the troll’s purple hair in one hairdo after another. Nana was no longer angry with me. Over the years, I would tell her, “I still have the troll doll with the purple hair.” I wish I could still tell her I have it.
I live by many of Nana’s favorite sayings. (Although I didn’t warm to some of them until I was older.)
1. The early bird gets the worm. (I told her I didn’t want worms.)
2. Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. (I was a night owl.)
3. Silence is golden.
4. You win more flies with honey than vinegar. (I told her I didn’t want to be nice to people who were mean to me.)
5. If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything.
6. A penny saved is a penny earned. (I’ve learned to be a better saver.)
7. Waste not, want not.
Nana’s birthday is January 22. If she were alive, she’d be 107 years old. Funny thing—sometimes, for a moment, I think, I should call Nana. And then I remember, she’s gone. So, I talk to her without a phone.
[Written in response to #bloganuary prompt #6: Who is someone that inspires you and why? For more information click on: Bloganuary.]
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Wonderful parallel construct on your generational story. It’s good to be reminded how people can overcome what life deals them, and how their struggle can improve future generations. Your love for your Nana infuses this whole narrative.
Tell me about this #bloguary thing?
Here is where I joined the community: https://bloganuary.wordpress.com/ If you scroll down, you we see that on the left, there are dates in January and you can click on the topics. I just learned about this on Jan. 5. On the left, near the top there is a place to click and follow the blog also, which I did. Yesterday evening, I got my first email, which gave me today’s topic. I have very little social media savvy, so I’m winging it. But if you have any other questions, I’ll be glad to help. There is a way to use Twitter and maybe Instagram, but I have neither of those.
Thank you! I’m social media inept and couldn’t figure it out. Clicking on the link now 🙂
You’re welcome. I hope you got signed up. Today’s topic, What do you like about your writing? is a difficult one for me. Not sure I’m going to write on that topic.