Granny was Right
It’s hard to say who had the most powerful influence on Jaz during her formative years. Clearly she found herself in the hands of a group of adults with strong personalities and definite attitudes toward life. But I think we can all agree that Granny May had the most positive impact on Jaz and her sibs. Even our heroine understands she’d be a much lesser person if not for the care and attention of her mother’s mom.
I feel the same about my Grandma Ryan. But I wish that in times of crisis, like Jaz, I could hear my grandma’s voice in my head, letting me know exactly what she thought of the situation. My Grandma Ryan wasn’t like Granny May. She was a quiet, demure woman who never offered an opinion or advice unless asked. Naw, I wouldn’t call her a pushover. More a lady who understood the value of life lessons.
Even so, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished I knew how she survived the hard times. For instance, when she was fourteen her mother (whose name was May Tabitha) contracted tuberculosis. In those days, that was a veritable death sentence. Grandma Ryan watched them take my great-grandma away, feeling certain she’d never see her again. How did she get through that? How did she feel when, miraculously, her mom came back home again months later?
I have other questions too, ones that will never be answered because she’s gone and I never asked. But if I could, I’d inquire about the impact the Depression had on her. I could see the effects—she and Grandpa were always extremely careful with money, even in their later years when they had plenty to splurge with. I’d also ask how she felt about being a young mother with two daughters, watching her husband march off to war. And if she ever yearned for a different career. Maybe she dreamed about something other than working as a church secretary. Maybe not. I never knew the specifics. Only that she emerged from all her experiences as a woman of deep faith, who adored her grandchildren equally and seemed to face life with remarkable serenity when the rest of us were clutching our heads and moaning.
Did/do you have a grandparent who’s been a big part of your life? Share on! We love us some good stories!
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February 23rd, 2009 at 5:36 am
I was raised by my mother and my Nanna (who lived with us from before I can even remember). She is a great inspiration to me and helped mould me into whom I have become.
My Nanna was raised by her Father and Step-Mum after her Mother Margaret pasted away when she was a child. She was raised in London and WWII broke out she was sent to live in Dorset. When she was old enough to return, she did and went to work at an Ammunition factory. I have always treasured this story as a defining point in her life as she switched shifts with a friend one day and that very same day, she should have been in work, a bomb was dropped very close to the factory and her friend was injured, when the windows exploded.
My Nanna had remarkable strength and courage, she lived with her abusive husband, while raising her 5 daughters. The amazing thing was she stayed there till the youngest was old enough to leave too.
I always found myself asking her questions about her life and what she witnessed. We lost my Nanna in 2004 to cancer; Whenever, I hit a pot hole in my life I always think.
“What would Nanna do?” That has always helped to make tough times a little easier to bear.
February 23rd, 2009 at 1:07 pm
I hear stories from my Dad about his Dad, which is always weird. For example my Grandfather was an orphan at 10 and was shipped around relatives until he joined the army at 15. Alas he also had a sister and when they were split up he never saw her again.
Over the years he was a character and a half, for example with his last sixpence he made sure his kids had a good christmas over things for himself including buying a christmas tree that we stil have today. He was also a cabbie who after moving his family from London to Margate ended up in a bit of trouble. He’d queued up in his cab waiting for a fare when a guy gets out of his, walks up, tells my grandad to “sod off and leave cabbying to those who deserved the money.”
Well my Grandad, explained that he had a family to feed and that he’d moved from London to give his kids a good start and was told that he should “F’ing well move back” with a threat that if he didn’t he’d get a kicking.
Alas realising that there was no other way out, my Grandad decked the guy and then proceeded to work his way down the rank asking if anyone else had a problem with him. No one did.
Eventually my Grandad started a firm with a friend which my Dad worked for on a Friday/Saturday night. He was asked another cabbie “How could he get on with that b’stard, George Wilson.” My Dad’s reply was “I have to, he’s my father.” The guy went white as a sheet and moved pretty sharpish.
My Dad has a lot of stories like that including silly things like when my Gran and Grandad had gone for a meal with an American couple, Steaks were ordered and when it landed my Gran thought that it was for the two of them and started to halve the meal.
There was also another time an American Solider was working with my Grandad and after a while of having the guy take the mick out of London and how everything was bigger and better in the US, my Grandad took the Albert route. He turned round and said “I know something else thats bigger in America.” The guy said What which was when my Grandad said “Your Mouth” and smacked the guy one.
Don’t get me wrong he wasn’t a violent guy but he was one of these who believed in standing up for himself. But he was also a pretty smart cookie as they bought a small B&B when they moved. When people turned up asking for one or a good one, he’d just drive them home and pass it on to my Gran who ran that side of things. Every so often they’d sell up and buy a bigger B&B and made sure that their regulars knew.
I suppose I’d love to have a chat with him now that Im older to get to know him better and get to know his ideals. I also think thats why I like characters like Albert who whilst appearing like rough, gruff, heavy handed and uncaring, really have a soft underside but you have to get to know the mannerisms to see it.
February 23rd, 2009 at 1:26 pm
both my grandparents on mums side. Grandpa died when I was about 10 an dI always felt cheated, he was this amazing guy and I never got to have an adult relationship with him.
My Nanna was 92 sharp as a pin and still getting up and down the hills in Torquay on her own when her heart gave out. She never so much as turned a computer on but only needed one brief explanation to fully grasp how email found it’s way to the right person. We were very close and I miss her all the time, but at least I go to really know her and she knew I finally got my driving license, went on to do some professional qualifications and was getting married, so she had what she wanted from us.
February 23rd, 2009 at 1:52 pm
I was blessed with two wise grandmas, Nana Mac who thought that all woman should be able to work outside the home (she regretted having to give up her job at the end of world war II and go home to look after her children). She taught me most of my dirty jokes, how to make prefect roast potatos, play gin rummy like a card shark and that reading trashy novels is okay
. Famous for her line “I can look, I’m married not blind”. And Grandma with whom I spent an awful lot of time with as a child. She kept me on course as a teenager and I still quote her (one of my favs,
“its sunny above the clouds”), and wish I could hear her advice. She kept the local garage running during the war, and its thanks to her I can do basic car maintance. She also taught me how to bake bread and gave me a life long aversion to kiwi fruit, by insisting on serving them stewed, yuck.
February 23rd, 2009 at 2:09 pm
I’m one of the lucky people who still has their nan around and I am so blessed to have her and my grandad.
My grandads one of those characters who isn’t the life and the soul of the party but is the one sitting down telling everyone the bad jokes. (Trust me they’re awful but never fail to make me laugh.)
My gran is the one keping everyone in check. She ian’t strict but she isn’t scared to give a relative a clip around the ears.
My gran has 5 sisters and my grandad has 2 brothers and 3 sisters i think, we don’t talk to them much.
My mum told me this story about her and my 2 uncles (both younger than my mum). My mum used to pick on uncle paul a lot after he was about 2 and when my gran asked who had made paul cry my mum would blame it on her other brother shane. Of course my gran would then clip shane around the ear but my mum would start laughing and so gran would then clip HER around the ear too.
I think I’ve learnt to appreciate family from my granparents, it’s really important to know what you have. If I can be a shadow of who my grandparents are then i’ll be happy.
February 23rd, 2009 at 2:28 pm
My great-grandmother, born in 1913, passed in late 2008. Depression, two world wars, children dying, she outlived both her husbands, and two of great-grandchildren. She was the one who taught us that what is easy isn’t always whats best, and what’s right is not always what’s best for you.
February 23rd, 2009 at 7:12 pm
I thankfully still have my southern bell of a grandmother, my brother and I call her Mimi. She has been a huge influence on our lives. She gave us our principles for right and wrong along with a very health dose of guilt when deserved.
As a school teacher for more than forty years, teaching every grade between 1st and eleventh, Mimi knew when we were lying and when we had something brewing. Mimi had the ability to make you feel ashamed without even looking at you when you did something wrong.
To this day if there is something that might be even questionable, I can’t help but imagine what she would say to me afterwards and that alone would steer me back on to a better path. It wasn’t entirely the guilt trips, which could be down right horrible, but I truely dreaded disappointing her. I think she is the reason I continue to push myself despite set backs and never let myself think that I can give up when I am just short of my goal. No. I need to finish and do what I said I would do.
She is who I want to be when I finish growing up.
February 24th, 2009 at 4:19 am
My Nan’s crazy. Ever read the Stephanie Plum series? Thats what my Nan’s like! Just like Gradma Mazur.
Every time I go to see her, she always get up me! It’s always:
“Taylor! You been on that treadmill? SLIM DOWN!”
Or something along those lines, but you know the funny thing?
My life wouldn’t be the same without her in it. It’s actually alright having someone who won’t lie just to make you feel better.
So now thats my Nan’s slogan:
“SLIM DOWN!”
February 24th, 2009 at 9:08 am
Your Nana sounds amazing, Emma.
What a character, Gareth! I would’ve loved to have met your grandad!
How cool is that, hagelrat? You always hear about older people being afraid of technology. Great to get the opposite perspective! The grandfather of a friend of ours is still living in his own house–and he’s over 100! (Also quite sharp.) I hope I get to keep my wits when I’m old.
Wow, Penny, both of your grandmas sound so cool! Lucky girl!
Loved your stories, Emzie-pooh! Glad you’re treasuring your moments with them!
Wow, Marissa, she sounds wonderful.
What is it about teachers, Jenna? My mom was one and my hubby is one, and they just won’t let you get away with anything!
Oh, geez, Taylor, I have no idea how to respond. Except to tell you my future son-in-law could probably commiserate at a certain level. I believe for her 70th birthday, his grandma got a tattoo!
February 24th, 2009 at 9:37 am
I regret not doing more with the man I called ‘grandpa’ since the mid/early nineties. Ernie was a family friend who used to work with my mother before he retired; he filled the gap that the twins and I had since all of our family is at least half the country away.
On one hand we had a lot of time together. I took him to doctors appointments and local celebrations (or any place that sold beer really
) in the last few years where I spent hours just listening to him talk about the past or his opinions on nearly random subjects. Be it his time in the Navy during WWII, his multiple jobs, or his years on the road as a runaway. God, I could list so many things, type about so many stories…
But there were so many days I could have done more with him, and I just figured that he’d be around for another two or maybe three years at the most. His 85th birthday would have been April 5th and we were planning a big get-together.
Obviously, he’s not around now. He died during one of his latest hospital visits, Feb.5th, one where he was scheduled to leave for home soon. It was so unexpected. He’d been in the hospital in October, and another visit since then, but he never stayed in long. I can’t say that I didn’t get the chance to visit him this time. I could of. But I didn’t go. I figured he’d be out again, and I could come and visit when he was at home. I didn’t want to see him in that hospital bed again. One time in October was enough for me.
So much about him went with him. I wish I could have/would have video taped or voice recorded his stories, his life, and our conversations. Crap, I’m making myself cry. I miss him, my friend, the guy who’d be happy to go anywhere with me and just talk. Even if it was just to the grocery store or the bank. Grab a coffee afterward.
I hope my boss doesn’t walk in, me crying quietly behind my work computer probably looks pretty weird. *laugh* To Erine, *gestures a cheer with her water bottle*
February 24th, 2009 at 12:01 pm
Ah! I’m lucky enought to still have my mum’s mother, the one from corsica.
From a family of 11 children, no money, married at 16, his husband left to WW II and came back. 4 children, poverty…and then things got better. She’s almost always laughing, she cooks great cakes (and we are a large family!), she loves joking about sex, yeh I know…She’s 88 years old and she likes so much talking dirty! But only with the women close to her. One day she told me she would have loved to live at the end of the 20th century, to work, to be able not to marry. (Corsica in the 40′s just imagine old Sicily)
When I asked her how she made it, she just said “Did I have the choice?”
I can’t see her enought, but I love her greatly.
February 24th, 2009 at 12:04 pm
I was ‘raised’ by my parents, though I’m quite certain that I would never have survived to adulthood had it not been for my paternal grandparents. They have always been the strongest and most steady hands in my life, gently steering me when I start to veer off of this fun bumpy roller coaster we’ve all found ourselves on. I dread the day that I can feel is sneaking up on the three of us, when they will no longer be with us.
My maternal grandma is a fun lady. She’s the one that I found rocking out in her kitchen to TLC back in the day (and DENIES it to this day… proper ladies don’t dance, you see). But, this last year she at 84, and I at 26 with 2 kids of my own, she actually let me go through her cedar chest and listen to all the stories about my grandfather (passed away two months before I was born) in The War. A right of passage aparently. Good times. I’ll be lost when they go.
February 24th, 2009 at 1:44 pm
My PaPa was the ONLY father I ever had he was an amazing man.
He & my Grams got hitched (lol had to say the) when she was 15 & him 19 they had to lie bout there ages.
They had 5 kids in 6yrs she went into a coma when mom was 6 & they took her off life support when mom was 9.
My mom was the oldest of 5 & the ONLY girl.
After Grams died mom had to take care of the boys cause PaPa worked alot & his heart was broken.
He would come home eat & then go into his room for the rest of the day.
Don’t get me wrong he was a good man, just very hurt.
He lost the only woman he ever loved.
He was not a very huggy kind-of guy.
But he was my PaPa.
He died of cancer when I was 9.
It was hard watching him die the way he did cause it was very slow & very painful!
I learned how to give shots, IV’s, meds, & how to change a colostime bag. (I know thats not how you spell it sorry.) All be for my8th birthday.
But I didn’t mind cause it helped him & mom.
You know how some fathers teach there girls how to dance, with the girl on his toes?
Well, that was not my PaPa until the year he died.
We were building a shed out back & on the floor he took my hand & danced with me for the 1st & last time ever.
Rightb4 he died he didn’t know who anyone was, except me the day b4 he died he wanted some ice cream & mom was trying to feed him cause he couldn’t hold a spoon.
He say me & said “I want Samantha”.
Has anyone ever seen the movie Frequency with Dennis Quaid & Jim Caviezel? Well, @ the end of the movie is a song by Garth Brooks & that was the last song I ever sang to him. I sang it to him the night he died.
For anyone who doesn’t believe that your loved ones come for you in the end I can tell you truthfully that they do.
Cause Grams was there to take him home with her, he kept saying “Hold on Lila, I coming.”
I had given him my teddy bear Bubba to sleep with & the next morning when I saw him b4 they took him he was holding Bubba tight.
That man was the greatest, kindest, most loving & gentle man I have ever or will ever know.
& I wouldn’t change a thing of what I went through with him.
February 25th, 2009 at 8:22 am
Ernie sounds amazing, zanheltangia.
I wonder what bands our grandkids will find us dancing to in the kitchen, Jeri? Fun to imagine!
What a story, Samantha. Wow.
February 26th, 2009 at 6:43 pm
I live in Northern Ireland in a small city very close to Belfast, my dad and his parents grew up in this city as well, though it was only a town then.
I never knew my dad’s mum as she died before i was born, but from what i’ve heard she was very strong and independant, not to mention smart.
My grandparents lived through the Troubles of our country, my gran lived from the beginning of them right to the very end, and through it all she stayed strong and kept her faith in God (she was a very devout Catholic), and throughout all those years she kept her family safe, even when my granda died and she had to support her family on her own. She kept them so safe that not one member of her family was killed or injured during the Troubles, something which is really shocking considering she was an extremely Catholice woman living in an extremely Protestant area.
if i could ask my granny one question i would ask how the hell she managed to get through the Troubles without scathe, and if i was to choose one person who i want to be more like i would pick her; after my granda died she saved and scraped together all the money she had to send her daughter to Australia to escape the destruction and pain that was ripping through our country. she would have sent my uncle and my dad as well, but they refused to go.
to this day i still see her as a role model, even though i didn’t get to meet her myself and though i’m not a very holy person i deeply respect the faith she managed to keep through all the hard times and it’s this knowledge that helps me to get up when i fall down, i just think of her and it somehow fills me with hope and determination.
i wish i could have met her… just once.
February 28th, 2009 at 6:16 pm
Your gran sounds amazing, Eimear. Thanks for sharing your story!