My grandchild has entered a family with a long history of strict, structured upbringing. There was sure and swift correction, but never a lack of love. She has no concept of these memories and traits that form her grandmother, though.
Grandparenting is an odd term -- the grand part chafes a little. The role isn't an easy fit. Perhaps I need to take in a few tucks here and there? Parenting is quite another thing. I was once quite sure of myself, well versed on the right approach of when and how to put my foot down. My expertise is now out-dated. My own children's interests and beliefs were oddities to me; my granddaughter's delights and abilities are vastly different than theirs.
My grandmother, Vera Reist, was a product of a staid Mennonite background.
Her interests were the old traditions. Beautiful quilts and crocheted works poured from her needles. Unable to decipher most written patterns, she needed only to see a finished product to skilfully reproduce it. It was at grandma's patient tutoring that I learned to knit, crochet, and wield the embroidery needle without doing damage to myself.
The greatest excitements in that old house were grandma's molasses cookies, an unending supply of peppermints and Foster Hewitt's high-pitched commentary of the Saturday night hockey game on the radio. I still hear “he shoots, he scores!” as my young hands scrub grandma's back. The enamelled dishpan sits on the oven door of the cookstove. No amenities perhaps, but certainly all the necessities. Grandma loved to sing the old hymns, but admitted she couldn't carry a tune in a bucket with a lid on it!
My grandfather, though, had a fine voice. I liked to hear his rumbling notes as our little congregation raised our praise a cappella. Grandpa was an avid storyteller, most tales told countless times. He also taught us to play dominoes and Aggravation. He had made his game board himself and we spent many hours over it, listening and learning that family roots go deep.
My parents took their grandparenting role in stride. My son was their first grandchild, but they also had the rivalry of the other grandparents down the road. Luke enjoyed the Hoey farm, lots of machinery to clamber about on, and day trips to fascinating places, and generally the three-year-old made the rules.
Back at the Spicer house, Luke saw things were different. Grandpa and grandma both worked and visiting children had to fit into the given routine. Nick says grandma's biscuits and melted cheese were the very best. Luke liked to try on grandpa's big boots and follow him about with endless questions. They both spent time mixing cookie dough, folding laundry and carrying groceries. They also both remember delightful walks and drives and time enjoying nature. They learned that work as well as play can bring pleasure. Now as adults themselves, my sons have discovered they carry many traits and ethics handed down to them. Unfortunately, they also carry the family's tendency toward aches and pains.
I speculate what we as a family are handing on to Kaytlin. Will she be an avid quilter and seamstress like her Grandma Spicer? Will she take up crafts or baking or a love of books? Will she have questions about the grandparents she never knew? Will she know that many prayers have been offered for her? Will she continue to say “come on, Grandma Joyce, let's go!”
