» Writing Memories
When I was a very little girl, perhaps between the ages of three and five, my grandparents on my dad’s side used to babysit me. When my grandfather would come home from work, he would always treat me to a Hershey’s bar of chocolate. This was back when their plain chocolate bars were made up of little rectangular pieces that could be easily snapped apart. It would take me forever to eat that chocolate bar because I would break off one little rectangle at a time and then rub it between my thumb and forefinger until it turned into a gooey mess which I would then happily lick off and then start all over again with the next little rectangle and so on until the bar of chocolate was gone.
Some memories I suppose we will always remember for one reason or another but I believe one of the best ways to retain them is to write them down.
Will you share with us an early memory of your grandparents?
Comments
Walking with my (maternal)grandfather on the beach and stopping together to let our feet “go to China”–be washed over by the waves and sink deep into the sand… Also, (paternal) grandfather teaching me how to make “whirligigs”–helicopters- from corncobs and pigeon feathers. And, watching my (maternal) grandmother do her crossword puzzles as well as her coming in to say goodnight when I would stay with them and the two of us “discussing” the day ahead…what errands we would run, what “jobs” we would do, what sort of sandwich for lunch…
Sitting at the kitchen counter on the step stool (with a phone book for height so I could reach the counter) eating an egg salad sandwich — but it was called a Magic sandwich. I’d happily eat one after another because only Grandma knew how to make them and make them right. Only she knew the special ingredients! My other grandmother taught me to play Solitaire. Forty years later when I play Solitaire I still can hear her voice coaching me on strategy (and not to cheat). She would sit with me for hours. As I grew up we’d sit and talk for hours. She listened.
There are so many memories probably because they either passed away when I was young or didn’t have much opportunity to see them in my adult years. The strongest memories I have of my paternal grandparents revolve around food. My grandma made the BEST potato salad that we ate with fried catfish that we caught earlier in the day, and my grandfather (a surly sob) loved to eat peanuts in the shell, he bought them in 50lb burlap sacks, one of which was always sitting next to his recliner in the living room. I never thought to much about that grandparent grandchild relationship until I became a grandparent myself, now I realize how important it can be for both.
My grandfather was a painter by avocation, and he had a studio in his house that doubled as a storage room. They kept a bunch of old furniture in there, the kind of neat old wooden stuff that is still my favorite, and old books and my mother’s old games and toys. Plus his paints and easel and canvasses. I loved that room. The smell of turpentine always sends me back there.
My fondest early memories actually involve my great-grandparents. We had a routine that involved what seemed like alternating weekends visting my mom’s parents and dad’s parents plus a set of his grandparents. Those great-grandparents lived in a second floor walk up in Welch, WV. By that time, Welch had easily receded from its boom time that justified walk up apartments. They had been there for decades and were content.
My great grandmother kept two things I loved. One was a tea set with a leaf motif that is boxed up for when my daughter gets a bit older. The other was a box of old coins she loved and would rub for hours at a time. She essentially ruined any numismatic value of the coins, but they’re precious to me because they were precious to her.
My mother’s father did something similar, Stephanie: he put a packet of M&Ms in his breast pocket for me to “discover” whenever we went to visit. In retrospect, it was a good way to ensure that a squirmy kid would head straight for your chest (and a hug) after a long car ride.
Leave a Comment