Angels Part 1: My Grandmother
The following will be a monthly 'special' posting that I want to dedicate to some people in my life who have served as angels, providing guidance, support, love, humor, etc.
Imagine this: a cookie jar, shaped like a lemon, bright, yellow, and tacky as anything you'd find at a rummage sale. In fact, my father will tell you that he paid close to one dollar for this jar. But this jar, mostly due to it's owner and not just the contents inside the jar, has brought joy to 9 cousins, a handful of aunts and uncles, and countless other visitors who stop by and chat with my grandmother, Eleanor. Of course, to us, she is and will always just be, Grandma.
My grandma is really old. As I've always been bad with remembering ages, I can certify that she's pushing 90. She has lived through two world wars, the great depression, civil rights movement, women's rights movement, the cold war, and 9/11. I remember calling her on that tragic day to see how she thought it compared to countless other historical moments she'd been around for.
She grew up on a farm in north central Wisconsin with 14 brothers and sisters. The granddaughter of two German immigrants, she only possessed an 8th grade education and when she became a teenager moved to Milwaukee, where her only other friend and relative was her brother Eddie.
She worked as a nanny for a few years before taking a job where she will spin many tales and lessons learned: waitress at the Marc Plaza hotel. The hotel is still there (now called the Milwaukee Hilton) but back in the day it was the premier hotel for out of towners to stay at. She served countless celebrities and sports stars, Bob Hope among them. She worked there for over 45 years, and rarely missed a shift or was late.
Transportation for my grandma consisted of either the bus system or her own two feet. She walked twice a day (probably a total of a mile and a half and that was in addition to wherever else she needed to go) usually praying her rosary on the second walk. No trek was too big for her. She read and read, did crossword puzzles, jigsaw puzzles, taught all the grandkids how to play cards. She was mentally quick and astute. She could follow any current event and give you a quick perspective on it in addition to being able to ask in depth philosophical questions. Her house and yard were always immaculate. She followed a simple regiment of focus and hard work.
Her simple yet deep life was not without struggles. My grandfather was an alcoholic. My grandmother can tell you some powerful stories of what happened when money got tight, or my grandfather hadn't come home because he was with another woman or found drunk in his car. Eventually they got a divorce, a struggle to her catholic upbringing, but for the better. The wounds and scars have had deep repercussions in her life, and I believe is the driving force behind her continual passion to make and see others happy.
Despite smoking for almost 40 plus years, she gave it up cold turkey. Her health has always been fascinating to watch. One moment the woman would have broken a rib. The next day she'd be outside cutting the lawn. The strength inside of her is immeasurable. She is currently battling cancer, which took some of her brothers and sisters, and is winning, despite a short and sad year where she thought it was over.
During my rough years in 6th grade, struggling with verbal abuse from other kids, my grandmother would always look at me and say "you are special and unique, you will use your talents and creativity to make others smile and laugh one day." I wish she could have seen me at GLACURH back November.
The largest tragedy she has not yet found a way to escape is her sight. She's legally blind, making it difficult for her to enjoy many of the things she used to. But I know that inside of her she keeps finding a new way to overcome (for a woman without a license or HBO she's missed out on a lot of movies...now a new passion she's trying).
I visited her the other day, and for every day she lives, she gets wiser and smarter. She still can hold a powerful conversation (our topics: sexual assault survivors, alcoholic families, and Russ Feingold). And she still laughs and finds the humor in life. She has a story for everyone and everything, a quality I'm grateful I inherited. She believes that no matter what your background or history, you have something positive to contribute.
I promise I will share some of her stories in the future, believe me, they're fantastic. For now, I just want to share the essence of her, a woman who is strong, and does small things for large heartfelt reasons. Just ask anyone who has eaten out of the lemon cookie jar.
pb
Imagine this: a cookie jar, shaped like a lemon, bright, yellow, and tacky as anything you'd find at a rummage sale. In fact, my father will tell you that he paid close to one dollar for this jar. But this jar, mostly due to it's owner and not just the contents inside the jar, has brought joy to 9 cousins, a handful of aunts and uncles, and countless other visitors who stop by and chat with my grandmother, Eleanor. Of course, to us, she is and will always just be, Grandma.
My grandma is really old. As I've always been bad with remembering ages, I can certify that she's pushing 90. She has lived through two world wars, the great depression, civil rights movement, women's rights movement, the cold war, and 9/11. I remember calling her on that tragic day to see how she thought it compared to countless other historical moments she'd been around for.
She grew up on a farm in north central Wisconsin with 14 brothers and sisters. The granddaughter of two German immigrants, she only possessed an 8th grade education and when she became a teenager moved to Milwaukee, where her only other friend and relative was her brother Eddie.
She worked as a nanny for a few years before taking a job where she will spin many tales and lessons learned: waitress at the Marc Plaza hotel. The hotel is still there (now called the Milwaukee Hilton) but back in the day it was the premier hotel for out of towners to stay at. She served countless celebrities and sports stars, Bob Hope among them. She worked there for over 45 years, and rarely missed a shift or was late.
Transportation for my grandma consisted of either the bus system or her own two feet. She walked twice a day (probably a total of a mile and a half and that was in addition to wherever else she needed to go) usually praying her rosary on the second walk. No trek was too big for her. She read and read, did crossword puzzles, jigsaw puzzles, taught all the grandkids how to play cards. She was mentally quick and astute. She could follow any current event and give you a quick perspective on it in addition to being able to ask in depth philosophical questions. Her house and yard were always immaculate. She followed a simple regiment of focus and hard work.
Her simple yet deep life was not without struggles. My grandfather was an alcoholic. My grandmother can tell you some powerful stories of what happened when money got tight, or my grandfather hadn't come home because he was with another woman or found drunk in his car. Eventually they got a divorce, a struggle to her catholic upbringing, but for the better. The wounds and scars have had deep repercussions in her life, and I believe is the driving force behind her continual passion to make and see others happy.
Despite smoking for almost 40 plus years, she gave it up cold turkey. Her health has always been fascinating to watch. One moment the woman would have broken a rib. The next day she'd be outside cutting the lawn. The strength inside of her is immeasurable. She is currently battling cancer, which took some of her brothers and sisters, and is winning, despite a short and sad year where she thought it was over.
During my rough years in 6th grade, struggling with verbal abuse from other kids, my grandmother would always look at me and say "you are special and unique, you will use your talents and creativity to make others smile and laugh one day." I wish she could have seen me at GLACURH back November.
The largest tragedy she has not yet found a way to escape is her sight. She's legally blind, making it difficult for her to enjoy many of the things she used to. But I know that inside of her she keeps finding a new way to overcome (for a woman without a license or HBO she's missed out on a lot of movies...now a new passion she's trying).
I visited her the other day, and for every day she lives, she gets wiser and smarter. She still can hold a powerful conversation (our topics: sexual assault survivors, alcoholic families, and Russ Feingold). And she still laughs and finds the humor in life. She has a story for everyone and everything, a quality I'm grateful I inherited. She believes that no matter what your background or history, you have something positive to contribute.
I promise I will share some of her stories in the future, believe me, they're fantastic. For now, I just want to share the essence of her, a woman who is strong, and does small things for large heartfelt reasons. Just ask anyone who has eaten out of the lemon cookie jar.
pb
posted by Peter Brooks at 4:58 PM
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