Grandparents

I have thought a lot about my grandparents lately, and what I remember best about them. I miss them dearly, especially when I clean for the elderly, or hear of someone else’s grandparents. Let me tell you what I know about them. I might not remember everything accurately, but I do remember.

Nanny and Grampa Brinton- I still don’t know why we called her “Nanny.” It’s a complete mystery to me. Her birthname was “Dormatilde-Marie Deveau,” and she went by “Tilly.” I guess she didn’t like the full name. She loved wildlife, even the black bears that would raid the bird-feeders (and the garbage shed). I think “The Bear” must’ve been her favorite movie. Cats were the pets of choice, and each one had a distinctive personality. She had grown up in a Catholic home, but was told that she “asked too many questions,” so she sought her own way. She got into the occult, until one day a JW came to her door. Well, she read their book, and realized that they don’t go by their own book (although, to be honest, one does have to admire their determination). Somehow or other, she came to Christ, and became a powerful intercessor (God listens to mothers’ prayers!). She also used to be a schoolbus-driver, which my Grampa would tell stories about quite often. Known for her generosity, there were a few times in which she overdrew the family bank account by giving to others. She would always send us grandkids a five-dollar bill with our birthday/Christmas cards, and she’d sneak a bigger tip to the waitress after a meal. I always thought she had curly hair, until I saw her one day without her wig. She’d tell me how she’d never had long hair like mine, and she’d find long hairs from me months after I’d been there. I still remember the night we got the phone call that she had passed away. Grampa was certainly an eccentric (and that’s the only word I think will fit). He definitely had some of the mentality of the Depression hanging around in his mind (shutting off lights the moment you walk away from the room, keeping things, etc.), and his way of thinking was certainly… unique. He used to try to show me how to shoot a golf ball (note: I said “tried”). He loved golf. He got Nanny to like Tiger Woods (mind you, both passed on before the whole scandal with TW). He would repeatedly tell the same stories over and over again, and we would listen until he finished. I remember asking him once about his childhood, and he told me this sad story of how his father died. I think he truly felt guilty over it. After Nanny died, you could tell that he really missed her. He’d say, “We went to [insert restaurant name] today, and…” That was very painful to see. I probably had more interaction with him than with any of my grandparents, and we actually had a few very good discussions. When he passed on, my mom played the bagpipes at his memorial service.

Gramma and Grampa Riley- I don’t remember much of Gramma Riley. She could barely talk by the time I was old enough to be aware of her, because of a nasty stroke and asthma. She was an amazing artist (though it didn’t quite click until years after she died).I dearly wish I’d been able to get to know her better, but she died when I was little. Grampa, though, is a slightly different story. He absolutely loved his Celtic heritage, to the point that he would blast a bagpipe record if he thought his kids were sleeping in too late. He was awesome in the kitchen, concocting all sorts of wild things, and always experimenting. In fact, the day he died, he’d made a batch of chili so hot that even he couldn’t eat it. He didn’t die because of that, though. He was as healthy as a horse, walking his Irish setters every day (and by “walking,” I mean “taking a looooooooooong hike with”), and just… being healthy. His death was odd, in that a major artery burst, and that was that. Apparently, he went out with a smile on his face. Anyhow, he also had a talent with woodworking, though he rarely finished a piece. While on his long walks, he would clean up areas where people had left broken bottles and garbage lying around. It made him angry to find such things (and rightly so). His favorite tree was the beech (I only remember this, because he made a carving of beech leaves). He smoked a tobacco pipe, and the scent of pipe tobacco still reminds me of him. My mom played her bagpipes at his gravesite when she went to her high school reunion.

None of my grandparents ever entered into a nursing home, which says quite a lot for them. I don’t think any of them, on either side, would have wanted to be in one. They lived long, full lives, but that doesn’t make me wish any less that I could still learn more from and about them.