 |
| Grandmother and Granddad, pictured on the right. |
My sister, Tiffany, and I spent a lot of time at our Grandmother and Granddad's when we were little. They lived in a big house with a big yard, and it came with a few peculiarities that I remember well--particularly a rock wall in the back. The landscaper had placed several large geodes alongside it as he found them in the yard, but the idea that someone may have discovered them before Tiffany and me was inconceivable. I don't know how large they actually were, but I do recall having a great deal of trouble lugging the largest up the back-steps and into the kitchen where I could show Grandmother what I found. Fortunately for a five-year-old's fragile ego, she was kind enough to act surprised.
The house itself was chock-full of rooms, and each had a name of its own. There was the Victorian room, filled with antique furniture, oil lamps, and glass figurines; the Safari room, so named for its excessive use of cheetah and zebra prints; Elizabeth's room, adorned with family heirlooms and flowered wallpaper that was fuzzy to the touch; and then there was JuJu's room, with it's bright red carpet and our family's over-sized wedding photos mounted along the walls. I usually wanted to sleep with my sister in the Safari room, which was hers by tradition, but my room was JuJu's. I slept in it every night we stayed there, and before me, my father did the same.
Grandmother, Tiffany, and I spent most of our time together in the Victorian room. This was where we toasted marshmallows and threw tea parties. It was imperative that there be a tea-party every time we went to Grandmother's house. It would sometimes take us half the afternoon to prepare all the little snacks and dishes, my favorites being the sandwich squares and strawberries dipped in sugar. When the time came, Tiffany and I would wrap up in feather boas and put elbow-length gloves on, all the while cooling ourselves (whatever the temperature) with a couple of sequined folding fans she bought for us.
Occasionally, Grandmother would pile us into her long, white Cadillac and take us down to the riverfront. She always enjoyed the shops down there, and each time we went, she allowed my sister and I to pick out an item we wanted to take home with us. On one such occasion, she bought Tiffany and I each a little porcelain tea-set. I still have mine (and the folding fan) today.
After dinner most nights, Granddad would take the three of us out to Grandview Cemetery to see where their son, Leo Jr., was buried. This was a daily ritual that I didn't understand until I was much older, but I enjoyed collecting the fragments of plastic flowers that littered the cemetery lawn. From there, we would return home, where the rest of our evening would be spent with Grandmother in the master bedroom. Tiff and I would get comfortable on the day bed and watch I Love Lucy while Grandmother tended to whatever business was necessary, oftentimes bringing in clothes hung to dry from the roof of their screened-in porch. (It could be accessed through a door in their bedroom, and I was always considered too little to venture onto the roof, so it was only when I could steal a minute alone that I would even dare.)
Should Grandmother ever require any alone time, my sister and I would watch television or entertain ourselves at the saloon-style bar in the basement. It was such a fascinating old house. Grandmother always had an affinity for cowboys and Indians, so we would take turns waving around an iron pistol or running amok in a full-sized Indian headdress...
...but Grandmother's house wasn't the only venue in which she entertained us. We would often hang around her desk at Harrison Motor Company, too. It was "the shop" to us, but "the place of business" according to Grandmother. Four generations of Harrison men, beginning with my great-great-grandfather, all worked in the shop at one time or another, and to this day, what Grandmother did there is still unclear to me. But there she was just the same, and I could always rely on her to save me a cake doughnut with white icing. Those were her favorite, and mine too, coincidentally. Whenever I exhausted myself roller-skating up and down the showroom floor, my doughnut was waiting for me at Grandmother's desk.
As I got older, so did Grandmother. By the time I left for South Carolina, she was no longer the person I've described and she hadn't been for many years. I wrote her a letter as promised, and it was delivered the day she went to the hospital. In the melee, Granddad was unable to check the mail, and she passed away before getting to read it. I was devastated by this, as was Granddad, but he photocopied the letter and we placed the original with her in the casket. I like to pretend it wasn't too late.
The house itself was chock-full of rooms, and each had a name of its own. There was the Victorian room, filled with antique furniture, oil lamps, and glass figurines; the Safari room, so named for its excessive use of cheetah and zebra prints; Elizabeth's room, adorned with family heirlooms and flowered wallpaper that was fuzzy to the touch; and then there was JuJu's room, with it's bright red carpet and our family's over-sized wedding photos mounted along the walls. I usually wanted to sleep with my sister in the Safari room, which was hers by tradition, but my room was JuJu's. I slept in it every night we stayed there, and before me, my father did the same.
Grandmother, Tiffany, and I spent most of our time together in the Victorian room. This was where we toasted marshmallows and threw tea parties. It was imperative that there be a tea-party every time we went to Grandmother's house. It would sometimes take us half the afternoon to prepare all the little snacks and dishes, my favorites being the sandwich squares and strawberries dipped in sugar. When the time came, Tiffany and I would wrap up in feather boas and put elbow-length gloves on, all the while cooling ourselves (whatever the temperature) with a couple of sequined folding fans she bought for us.
Occasionally, Grandmother would pile us into her long, white Cadillac and take us down to the riverfront. She always enjoyed the shops down there, and each time we went, she allowed my sister and I to pick out an item we wanted to take home with us. On one such occasion, she bought Tiffany and I each a little porcelain tea-set. I still have mine (and the folding fan) today.
After dinner most nights, Granddad would take the three of us out to Grandview Cemetery to see where their son, Leo Jr., was buried. This was a daily ritual that I didn't understand until I was much older, but I enjoyed collecting the fragments of plastic flowers that littered the cemetery lawn. From there, we would return home, where the rest of our evening would be spent with Grandmother in the master bedroom. Tiff and I would get comfortable on the day bed and watch I Love Lucy while Grandmother tended to whatever business was necessary, oftentimes bringing in clothes hung to dry from the roof of their screened-in porch. (It could be accessed through a door in their bedroom, and I was always considered too little to venture onto the roof, so it was only when I could steal a minute alone that I would even dare.)
Should Grandmother ever require any alone time, my sister and I would watch television or entertain ourselves at the saloon-style bar in the basement. It was such a fascinating old house. Grandmother always had an affinity for cowboys and Indians, so we would take turns waving around an iron pistol or running amok in a full-sized Indian headdress...
...but Grandmother's house wasn't the only venue in which she entertained us. We would often hang around her desk at Harrison Motor Company, too. It was "the shop" to us, but "the place of business" according to Grandmother. Four generations of Harrison men, beginning with my great-great-grandfather, all worked in the shop at one time or another, and to this day, what Grandmother did there is still unclear to me. But there she was just the same, and I could always rely on her to save me a cake doughnut with white icing. Those were her favorite, and mine too, coincidentally. Whenever I exhausted myself roller-skating up and down the showroom floor, my doughnut was waiting for me at Grandmother's desk.
As I got older, so did Grandmother. By the time I left for South Carolina, she was no longer the person I've described and she hadn't been for many years. I wrote her a letter as promised, and it was delivered the day she went to the hospital. In the melee, Granddad was unable to check the mail, and she passed away before getting to read it. I was devastated by this, as was Granddad, but he photocopied the letter and we placed the original with her in the casket. I like to pretend it wasn't too late.
I'm left with few words but moved to tears
ReplyDeleteWell, thank you, Ross. I'm pleased to have elicited such a reaction from you, you big softie. :) It was difficult for me to write, but I enjoyed it.
DeleteI loved this! So interesting to see the history from your eyes....I know your Grandmother loved spending time with you and Tiffany.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Michele! It's nice to hear that, especially from you. You've always been a big part of so many happy memories for my family and me, and you even stuck by us through some sad ones. You're a great lady. :)
Delete