Nostalgia

Not too much has been going on here..I was off work for 2 days so no new stories from there. Yesterday I cleaned the house (a serious clean) and Mike made dinner (Steak, potatoes and sausage.) I had to make asparagus so we would have something somewhat healthy on the plate. Anyway, we ended up watching Snatch and going to bed. Today has been pretty useless. Mike is preparing for his 2nd Fantasy Football draft and I am going to watch a movie. Are you yawning yet?

Recently I have been thinking a lot about my mother's mother. I am not sure why, but random things seem to conjure up images and memories of her. She passed away when I was 16 and I wasn't able to go to her funeral because I had torn my ACL. That is a whole other post. Anyway, My Memere, (french for grandmother) lived with us for at least 6 or 7 years. When my grandfather, (Pepere) passed away I was 6 years old. Memere had severe arthritis, making it difficult for her to live by herself. She moved from their quiet apartment in Arlington, VA to Birmingham, AL with 3 crazy kids under the age of 6, my stressed out mother and my out of town father. He traveled a lot when we were growing up, which I am sure made things even more stressful for my mom.

Anyway, the point of this post is not to be depressing. I have just been reminiscing about all the things we did together that became routine. Memere moved into the office downstairs, which we had redone to include a small bathroom and an area for her "kitchen." She made her lunch and breakfast there, and then joined our family for dinner. One of the things I loved about Memere is that she seemed to enjoy me visiting her. (maybe she was just being nice). On the weekends when I woke up, I would head to Memere's room. My parents were pretty strict with us as far as television watching and our diet when we were growing up. We didn't drink sodas, or eat white bread. (I guess those were the major things, but it seemed pretty serious at the time!) I would head into Memere's, where she would be making breakfast. White toast and butter - this was heaven for me! I had to go ask my mom if I could please have some white bread with Memere, and when permission was granted, I would run back there to smother my toast in butter. That stuff was so good! Then we would sit and watch what was on t.v.

Memere was a very devout Catholic. For awhile while her joints were still in somewhat good shape, we would drop her off at the Catholic church down the street for mass. I often attended, especially on Saturday nights when there was a folk band or something like that playing. Once she became more limited by her disease, she would watch mass on T.V. That wasn't as exciting for me, so I generally did not sit through it. However, one time I thought I would be helpful and bring her some Communion, because she was unable to take it from the priest. It did not occur to me that I was not a priest and somehow this could be offensive. I cut up some graham crackers into circles and poured some cranberry juice. When I brought "communion" into her room, she was so mad. I never understood until later what the problem was.

That was the only time I really remember her getting mad at me. (She had a lot of other opportunities.) We would watch The Golden Girls, Wheel of Fortune, and Rescue 911 together. I don't know if my mom just wanted me out of her hair, but do you remember Rescue 911? That is not appropriate for a child under 10 to be watching. However, when I was in Memere's room, all bets were off and I could defy my parents (after asking permission) as much as I wanted.

I used to give Memere manicures and roll her hair. It was a regular salon in there! When my parents went out, Memere was in charge. One evening while my parents were painting the town red, my sisters and I were playing upstairs. While we were playing, we spotted a roach. If you have ever lived in the deep south, you know about these roaches. They are generally at least 2 inches long, and they FLY. Although we were used to seeing them, we always screamed when we saw them, particularly when they decided to fly at you! We screamed for Memere to come kill the roach, which was selfish because she could barely climb the stairs. We then got her a chair to stand on while she swiped at the roach with a broom. And then, she fell. She ended up breaking her arm and we had to call 911. (Good thing I had watched all those shows!) It was scary for all of us and I have always felt bad about that.

Memere grew up speaking French. Her parents were from Canada, so she spoke English at school and French at home. While my mother was growing up, Memere and Pepere would speak in French when they didn't want the kids to understand them. (My parents did that too - we all took French in high school. We also quickly learned the french word for ice cream when we were young.) Memere had this old school speaker phone that she would talk to her sisters and friends on. (She was one of 8 children.) I would sit by her door and listen to her as she spoke French fluently to her sisters. Who knows..she could have been talking about me, but it was amazing to listen to.

I am not sure how to conclude this post. I have just been thinking a lot lately about how little you know about your grandparents and extended family if they die while you are still young. I would love to have conversations with her now, to see what she truly thought about living in our crazy house and about her incredible life. There is no doubt that she touched more people than she probably ever considered.