I don’t know much about my Dad’s mother. I only remember visiting her a few times, and many of the stories aren’t heart-warming.
When I interviewed my old man in the months leading up to his death, I did ask him about Grandma. He said she was always a little odd and did not have a problem with corporal punishment.
“She would grab whatever she could and hit you with it when she got mad,” Dad said. “I remember being chased with a bat. But we all got it, all five of us (there were five siblings).”
To be fair, Dad grew up during an era where this type of discipline was common. And, honestly, I might lose it if I had to take care of five kids full-time. As a truck driver, Grandpa was gone often, so Grandma had to keep the house in order.
“You know, she could be rough, but she had another side,” Dad said. “When I was in prison, she visited every month, and she always sent me $5. Keep in mind that Dad and Mom didn’t have much, but she always sent me money. She had a caring, tender side.”
That said, I was a little scared of Grandma. One of the few memories I have of her is having my mouth washed out with soap for saying “crap.” Considering my parents cussed like sailors, I didn’t understand why I was sucking on a bar of Dove.
I also remember that my brother and I stayed with her one weekend while our parents worked at craft shows, and it was clear from the get-go that we were on a tight ship.
But I didn’t write this to expand on my grandmother’s shortcomings. I wrote this blog because she was there for one of my favorite Christmases.
Several months after my grandfather died in 1984, Grandma planned on moving out west to stay with my aunts. My dad asked that she stay with us for Christmas before she left, and she agreed.
Though I didn’t think about it at the time, my grandfather’s death clearly softened Grandma significantly. She was quiet, humble and pleasant.
A few days before Christmas that year, Dad pulled my brother and I aside and gave us each $10 to spend on gifts. He asked that each of us buy a gift for Mom and Grandma.
I don’t remember what I bought my mom, but I do remember taking my grandmother’s gift seriously, spending an hour scouring Walmart for the perfect present. Needless to say, $10 went a lot further in 1984.
Grandma was shocked that Dan and I bought her gifts, to the point of being teary-eyed when she unwrapped them. I bought her a cheap hand purse that might have lasted a year, but she reacted as if it was full of cash.
Maybe that’s the year the old man really put the Christmas spirt in his sons. I’m sure my brother and I woke up to a ridiculous number of presents that morning, but I don’t remember anything I got that year.
What I do remember is the now 35-year-old Christmas ornaments Grandma made for our tree, the giant green quilt she made for my parents that year and that poorly-made hand purse that made my Grandma so happy.
That Christmas was the first time we had all been together in about 17 years, and the last time.