While we're on the topic of grannies...

[Guest guest]

My grandmother was short and plump, battled her weight all her life,

and never went anywhere without her long-line bra and panty-girdle. The

irony is that by the time she died, she was tiny and bird-like,

couldn't have weighed more than 90 lbs. wringing wet...but she was too

far gone to appreciate it. She had soft white hair that " went its own

way " , as she said, and her skin was beautiful -- pink and white and

smooth as velvet. She had horribly deformed feet, the result of a

lifetime of cramming them into shoes that didn't fit properly; and she

had crippling arthritis that caused her immense pain, but never stopped

her from getting out and about, while she was able. When she was in her

prime, she was the closest thing to a mother I ever had. I adored her.

Nana was, in a word, a character. Raised by middle-class English

settlers just outside , British Columbia, she rode and hunted

and swam, went to school at home because the local schools were

" infested with lice " (more likely her mother just didn't want her

mingling with the locals); at age 16, she went to Hanover, Germany, to

attend finishing school. Unfortunately, she was only there about 6

months before W.W.I broke out, and she had to make her way from Germany

through London, to a boat back to New York (on which she shared the

first-class dining room with Mrs. Havelock Ellis, the Lodge family and

others), then a train across the continent. During this time, her

family had no idea where she was, or if she'd even survived. When she

got home, she started life as a debutante -- I have a leather pouch she

saved, with invitations to balls galore, and love notes from various

suitors. In 1924, when she was 26 years old, she met a married man, had

a passionate love affair with him, and married him three years later.

Unfortunately, she did not realize that if he could dump his wife and

kids in Marriage #1, he could just as easily dump her and my father --

which he did, when Dad was a year old. Nana was left to survive on some

tiny pittance like $27.00 a month in relief, and I have several really

sad letters in which she begs my grandfather to at least send a bit of

child support. No dice. At some point this former deb realized she

needed to support herself and her child, and so she " lowered herself "

and took a job driving taxi. This really cemented her social rejection

-- when she'd had the affair with Grandpa, much of society

resented her, as Grandpa's first wife came from a very well-loved

family; and now, as she was doing such menial work, none of her old

friends wanted to know her any longer. She became very bitter; the

pictures I have of her show a tight-lipped, angry woman, quite the

opposite of the carefree young girl she'd been.

Eventually, though, things got better for her, financially and

emotionally. When I was born, I became the beacon of her life -- she

thought I could do no wrong, and kept meticulous records of all the

brilliant things I said as a toddler, etc. She would take me on outings

almost every weekend -- to feed the hippies in the park, or to drive

out to the country in search of goat's milk, which she felt would be

good for my sister's eczema (don't ask me where she got this idea), or

to build a tent in our back yard, or take a picnic lunch up to the park

atop Mt. Tolmie.

One time I remember us driving down 's main street in her

beloved little souped-up Austin; some smart-aleck kids in their dad's

car yelled out derisively, " Hey, grandma, ya wanna drag? " They

apparently thought this was uproariously funny. Nana just smiled her

little grand duchess smile, and by the time the light had changed, she

was halfway down the street, leaving the kids in her dust. At the next

light, she turned to me and said, " You know, dear, I think it might be

best if you didn't tell your father about this. " Still makes me grin.

She was eccentric and funny, possessive and sulky when she didn't get

her way, independent and proud, and yet determined to cling to us, the

only family she had. She was the only adult in my entire family who,

when she made a mistake, was mature enough to admit it and take

responsibility for it. She was also the only adult close to me who was

not an alcoholic. She died just after my daughter was born, in 1994,

and I still miss her. Thanks for the opportunity to talk about her!

I.

--

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

RNY September 19, 2001

Dr. Freeman, Ottawa General Hospital

BMI then: 43.5

BMI now: 22

-152 lbs

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

[Guest guest]

In a message dated 12/30/02 10:28:20 AM Central Standard Time,

kdirving@... writes:

<< Nana was, in a word, a character. >>

------------------------------

,

Your nana's life journey reads like an interesting novel! And you tell it so

well. Thank your for sharing such an entertaining documentary.

Carol A

[Guest guest]

Thank you so much for sharing that !! You has such a treasure for a

grannie! I loved reading about her...

Jacque

> My grandmother was short and plump, battled her weight all her life,

> and never went anywhere without her long-line bra and panty-girdle. The

> irony is that by the time she died, she was tiny and bird-like,

> couldn't have weighed more than 90 lbs. wringing wet...but she was too

> far gone to appreciate it. She had soft white hair that " went its own

> way " , as she said, and her skin was beautiful -- pink and white and

> smooth as velvet. She had horribly deformed feet, the result of a

> lifetime of cramming them into shoes that didn't fit properly; and she

> had crippling arthritis that caused her immense pain, but never stopped

> her from getting out and about, while she was able. When she was in her

> prime, she was the closest thing to a mother I ever had. I adored her.

>

> Nana was, in a word, a character. Raised by middle-class English

> settlers just outside , British Columbia, she rode and hunted

> and swam, went to school at home because the local schools were

> " infested with lice " (more likely her mother just didn't want her

> mingling with the locals); at age 16, she went to Hanover, Germany, to

> attend finishing school. Unfortunately, she was only there about 6

> months before W.W.I broke out, and she had to make her way from Germany

> through London, to a boat back to New York (on which she shared the

> first-class dining room with Mrs. Havelock Ellis, the Lodge family and

> others), then a train across the continent. During this time, her

> family had no idea where she was, or if she'd even survived. When she

> got home, she started life as a debutante -- I have a leather pouch she

> saved, with invitations to balls galore, and love notes from various

> suitors. In 1924, when she was 26 years old, she met a married man, had

> a passionate love affair with him, and married him three years later.

>

> Unfortunately, she did not realize that if he could dump his wife and

> kids in Marriage #1, he could just as easily dump her and my father --

> which he did, when Dad was a year old. Nana was left to survive on some

> tiny pittance like $27.00 a month in relief, and I have several really

> sad letters in which she begs my grandfather to at least send a bit of

> child support. No dice. At some point this former deb realized she

> needed to support herself and her child, and so she " lowered herself "

> and took a job driving taxi. This really cemented her social rejection

> -- when she'd had the affair with Grandpa, much of society

> resented her, as Grandpa's first wife came from a very well-loved

> family; and now, as she was doing such menial work, none of her old

> friends wanted to know her any longer. She became very bitter; the

> pictures I have of her show a tight-lipped, angry woman, quite the

> opposite of the carefree young girl she'd been.

>

> Eventually, though, things got better for her, financially and

> emotionally. When I was born, I became the beacon of her life -- she

> thought I could do no wrong, and kept meticulous records of all the

> brilliant things I said as a toddler, etc. She would take me on outings

> almost every weekend -- to feed the hippies in the park, or to drive

> out to the country in search of goat's milk, which she felt would be

> good for my sister's eczema (don't ask me where she got this idea), or

> to build a tent in our back yard, or take a picnic lunch up to the park

> atop Mt. Tolmie.

>

> One time I remember us driving down 's main street in her

> beloved little souped-up Austin; some smart-aleck kids in their dad's

> car yelled out derisively, " Hey, grandma, ya wanna drag? " They

> apparently thought this was uproariously funny. Nana just smiled her

> little grand duchess smile, and by the time the light had changed, she

> was halfway down the street, leaving the kids in her dust. At the next

> light, she turned to me and said, " You know, dear, I think it might be

> best if you didn't tell your father about this. " Still makes me grin.

>

> She was eccentric and funny, possessive and sulky when she didn't get

> her way, independent and proud, and yet determined to cling to us, the

> only family she had. She was the only adult in my entire family who,

> when she made a mistake, was mature enough to admit it and take

> responsibility for it. She was also the only adult close to me who was

> not an alcoholic. She died just after my daughter was born, in 1994,

> and I still miss her. Thanks for the opportunity to talk about her!

>

> I.

´¨¨)) -:¦:-

¸.·´ .·´¨¨))

((¸¸.·´ ..·´ -:¦:- Jacque

-:¦:- ((¸¸.·´*

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