As a little girl, I was lucky- I had Gram and Gramp in the house and Gramma
and Grampa in the trailer (they had a 5th wheel camper that they camped
everywhere in, no..they weren’t nomads, they did have a home!) I grew up through most of my childhood with
full family Christmases, lots of noise, presents and grandparents. I have
incredible memories of my grandparents, my grandmothers in particular. They were both so cool, but so totally
different in almost every way.
My grandma Ellie had to be about 4’11’’ with size 4
feet. She was tiny with a head of poodle
tight curls. Looking back, she might have
been all of 50, but she looked like a grandma-
She drove a big huge car (with air conditioning, such a luxury back
then..hmm...actually it is as well now too seeing that my poor car’s is
broken). I remember driving with her to
do errands and how she’d always peel out at the end of the road. She was wild and she had a hell of a lead
foot. Ellie had an 8 track player and an
organ in her den. I remember being the
star of my own show, banging away on that organ. I sounded so awesome. My cousin Kenny and I would put on performances
to Islands in the Stream, I can still see us now- Talking through the news was
forbidden—“Shush, listen” she’d say.
Midday she watched her “programs”, again, it was very important for us
to listen. I never quite understood that
as a child, but I now realize she was nicely telling us to shut up! 
My grandpa used to travel when I was a kid and since they
lived right down the road from me growing up, I would go down and stay with her
when he was away. She didn’t like to be
alone at night. I had the fortune of
really knowing my grandmother well, maybe better than my brother or sister
did- She wore little tiny Minnetonka
moccasins, had a craftmatic adjustable bed with a “puff” (her word for
comforter), couldn’t cook an unburned piece of toast to save her life and always
had a milkglass full of m&m’s.
She passed when I was 16 and the world became just a bit
less cool- I take those wild and fun
parts of Ellie with me, though, I think through my life and now through my
daughter. The little spitfire that
lives with me is her mimic, down to almost the same way she speaks. My daughter,
Ellie has a little Massachusetts/Boston accent that I did not put
there. Just as she looks like I did,
this kid is all Rathbun, she favors her “gramma gramma” in an amazing amount of
ways. I am excited to see what more
comes as she grows.
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My Gram, Grace, passed away 13 years ago today. It is in her memory that I am writing, she is
my muse today. I find myself thinking
about the lessons she taught me, the wisdom she passed along and realize that I
carry these teachings with me in my life now.
It is common in my family to stop and wonder: What could Grace do? She had a serenity that I strive to achieve.
She was named aptly: Grace.
My grandmother always had a regal air about her, but she wore it humbly,
you would never describe her as haughty or stuck up. Her hair was pretty much always spot on
perfect. Even in her robe, she was put
together. Lips painted, maybe a necklace
and earrings, perfect. She always looked
what I imagined a 1940’s film star would look like once she got a bit older and
retired from making movies. She was
classy. Pure and simple.
I am the oldest grandchild on both sides of my family. I might be the wildest of the bunch, I am not
sure, but when I hit puberty, Gram took control in reeling me in. She decided it was time for me to understand
how to be a “lady”. There was a store in
Windsor called Sage Allen’s (or Sage’s as Gram called it) and I was taken there
to go shopping. I had a little brother
and sister by this point, probably 2 little crazy cousins too, so a trip with
Gram all by myself was something to celebrate.
I am sure we made a day of it, maybe some lunch, I am not sure..
Definitely a stop at Geisler’s on the way home to get some nice bread and maybe
things to make a green salad, but the day was all mine. Yay.
We hit Sage Allen’s and walked right back to the intimates
department. Dear Grace had decided that
it was time for me to properly “fit” for a bra.
I still had no clue what this meant.
How naïve I was.. fast forward
about 15 minutes and you have me, beet red, standing in a dressing room being
measured, pinched, pulled and inspected by not only my grandmother, but the
sales associate as well. I wanted to
crawl under a mannequin and disappear.
But, my grandmother looked me in the eye that day and told me something that
I carry with myself to this day. She
told me to be proud to be a woman. Stand
up tall, pull your shoulders back and lift your chin up. Walk with purpose and grace…and “for
godsakes, Hezer Ree, please make sure you learn how to walk in high heels,
there is nothing worse than watching a woman clomp about in shoes she can’t
walk in”
Holidays were always fun.
After 8's, gherkins & olives, pickies... Our family has a leprechaun, Michael Patrick. He came every year, his arrival singled by a
bell, leaving us goodies and presents.
When I was really little, my aunt and uncle were still in high
school/college and Christmas Eve at their house couldn’t be beat. As an adult, I always wanted to enjoy a
Christmas Eve like the ones I remember.
Pictures of those nights make me smile as I can now understand how much
fun the adults were having. She was one
of the best cooks I have ever known and handled her kitchen with an ease I am
still trying to mimic. She commanded a
room with a glance, god help you if you were on the receiving end of one of her
stares. Well deserved of course, but you
would be stopped in your tracks without her ever needing to say a word. (I still need to learn how to do this better,
I haven’t fully mastered the stare)
The attic on 40 Wilton Rd is still the coolest attic I have
ever seen to this day. Nooks and
crannies of stuff! Boxes of my mom’s old
school papers that we’d look through over and over again. That box was so much cooler in the attic than
it was when it was finally brought down when they moved from that house. She had these garment bags hanging up there
and we’d hide in them, jumping out to try to scare an unsuspecting grown
up. Styrofoam mannequin heads that
terrified you as you came up into the attic, made worse by my uncle (ask Jeremy
about that one). Christmas decorations,
furniture and I am sure more than most of it was just “junk” but to us, it was
a treasure trove. There was a huge
radiator in the kitchen with a metal lattice looking grate. I think I must have put at least 2 full
barrels of monkeys down through the spaces in between. When I
remember my grandmother, it is this house where I have her placed in my
mind. I can still remember everything,
the calendar on the door to the cellar, how shiny the staircase was and the
wallpaper in the dining room.
Memories of Gram sitting at the table, plastic cup of warm
Coke, playing cards in hand-- Making lists of things to do, presents to
buy. Notes in the margins, reminders of
what someone liked, or would possibly liked.
She dotted her i’s with a circle. Watching her dance with my mother and aunt in
our living room to Strokin’, I remember being so horrified that day- my mom had just discovered line dancing and
was teaching some moves. Going out for
dinner at Sapino’s (spelling??), down to the Elks Club- everyone knew her and loved her. She truly came from a different age, she personified
grace. She was a true lady and I only
hope to be half the woman she was.
I never realized it when I was a child, but I had the
incredible fortune of knowing my grandmothers.
They were so totally different from one another as they could have
possibly been, but I am the better for what they both gave to me. I miss them terribly. I wish they could know me now and guide me
when I struggle. My daughter embodies them, although right now I believe she only carries Grace
in name more than manner, but I’m patient.
I hope that they grow up with the warm memories of their Gramma’s house
that I do. And with Michael Patrick set
to arrive in less than 2 weeks, I think they might be off to a good start on
that--
