My Gramma Eve was quite the lady--to know her was to love her. She was of the always perfect hair and pink cheeks kinda gal. Short in statue with a big chest. (hmmm,wonder where I got it from?) She wouldn't be caught dead without her lipstick. When I was about 6, she and Gramps moved to Detroit so Grampa could work with the Millworkers. Thier downstairs flat was somewhere in the area of Schaeffer and Greenfield, if my memory serves me. Gramma found a job at a corner diner and quickly made friends with those who frequented said place, cheerfully serving up greasy breakfasts. I would leave my compadres to enjoy the beach, while I made my way down to vacation with them each summer. But Detroit is so exotic and mysterious I would argue when inevitably someone would dare question my vacation locale. As soon as we hit Bay City, I would find CKLW on the radio and sing loudly, celebrating my 2 weeks of freedom. Swee eee eeee ee eet, sweet city woman!! I also had plenty of cousins to show me around. No one here or up North could understand why I would ever make such a move during the beautiful beachy summer, but, I explained to them that I was lonesome and Gramma and I would take the bus down to Hudsons, and go to Saunders for hot fudge sundaes. I went to the Detroit Zoo, took the boat to Boblo Island and saw Greenfield Village. Bring on the bright, city lights to this small gypsy. More glamour, more glamour!! There were sidewalks and you could roller skate around the block. I made friends with the little black children on the street, and was fascinated by them. (Remember, it's pretty much plain, white bread up north). Gramma used to say that you never knew I was around. Always a plus, I'm sure. As a bookish child, I used to sit in the little courtyard out back and read for hours, only getting up to run thru the sprinkler to cool off, and Gramma would serve me up a popsickle. After she had her afternoon "lay down" and watched her "stories", we would walk up to the corner to Hall's Bar. A dark, smokey hall of a bar that was an unlikely spot for a little girl from Ossineke. But I loved bellying up and ordering my usual. Red pop and plain chips for the little lady. Someone always gave me a quarter for the jukebox and I supplied the tunes for happy hour. Gramma would have two or three cold "shells" and amuse all with her stories and cute jokes --as she was an excellent joke teller, knowing just when to pause and get the laughs. I was so proud of her. "Comical" was a favorite word of hers and we still joke about it, today. Later we would walk back home and get dinner for Grampa. My Gramma was famous for her preference for a Snickers bar for dinner--but Gramps required something more hearty. To this day, I always pass out Snickers bars at Halloween in her honor. Maybe we would all play cards. When Grampa retired, and moved back to Ossineke, we became neighbors again. Ever the party girl, Gramma found a new spot for happy hour. She even dragged Grampa along. After the first frosty mug, she would proclaim, "a bird can't fly on one wing", cueing the bartender to serve 'em up again. And did she love babies. When I had my colicky son, she would rock him for hours and sing the old tunes that she sang to me as a baby. "You are my Sunshine" and "Little Buckaroo" being the favorites. I remember her clutching her rosary and reverently reciting it every Sunday at Mass. The rosary is mine now--being to only thing I ever wanted of hers. Her house was a happy meeting place for getting together and everyone was welcome anytime. I usually stopped by 4 out of 5 mornings for coffee on my way to work, and she could be found up and at 'em making toast and worrying about what to cook for lunch, probably givin' Grampa hell for something or another. And she made the BEST pineapple upside down cake. But old age is not alway kind. Even after developing diabetes (HELLO -OO Snicker bar diet), she remained cheerful and optimistic. It wasn't long after Grampa passed, that she joined him. After 60 years of marriage, how could she be here without him? It was a sad day, but time for her to join in the big card game with Gramps. Years later I miss her and remember her often. I like to think of her as a little angel on my shoulder. One with a smile, frosty mug of beer and a Snickers bar. Love always. xoxoxo
7 comments:
Bay City, which Madonna referred to as "the armpit of Michigan," is probably a nice place to visit (no longer than a week). I'd rather go to Port Austin or Caseville though.
I still have both my grandmothers; but why is it that us guys flame out earlier?
Hi jr, Madge was wrong on that one. Bay City is a historical and beautiful city on the bay. The lumber baron built mansions that are still gorgeous. But have you seen Flint or Pontiac. My votes at least for contenders. Aren't Gramma's the best?
A rosary and a little angel to watch over -- wonderful!
My Nana (maternal side) is ailing now, at 94, but she's had quite a life. Out in Vancouver, Washington now, holding on. Last saw her on her 90th birthday, when all she wanted was family company and a glass of beer.
Those of us that have had wonderful grandparents in our lives are very lucky. My grandma worked at Sanders and we would go visit her and have ice cream and cake at the counter. It was always yummy. Those are some of the best memories.
In a similar vein, my uncle died very shortly after my mother did. As the last, remaining male sibling, I think he was holding on to watch over her & once it was no longer necessary, he let go, y'know?
BTW, I sent you an e-mail about "Space Mermaids" (to the Yahoo address in your profile.)
What a fetching little memoir.
I never would have thought that my birth neighborhood was a tourist destination. Even so you have given it a fair representation.
Snickers and a beer, The Detroit Diet.
What a sweet tribute, beautiful! I loved this one. much love to you and your angel, m
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