"I don’t believe I ever heard her cuss or fuss."
The halls of Hofheinz Pavilion are crowded. As graduation ends, friends and family slowly funnel toward the exits. My daughter Caitlin is now a high school graduate. Outside, the sun starts to bake. The air becomes still as my Mom and I wait for her.
My late grandmother would have enjoyed the ceremony. It would have been a treat to see these three ladies together. Caitlin never knew my grandmother.
As a child, I often went to my grandmother’s house in the Heights. On the way, I remember crossing the Pierce Elevated and the floating motion it made of my
Mom’s ’66 Oldsmobile. Mi-ma, as I called her, was always home. She lived in a house on Rose Street. The large, brick house was built before the war and aged well. Mi-ma always had bread out for the birds. Inside, she was cooking, or watching soap operas, or reading. She was a reader like my Mom.
Supper was always polite. We would have meaningful discussions with the TV off - no distractions. I don’t believe I ever heard her cuss or fuss. She was a lady after all.
Mi-ma was a short woman, but intimidating. While walking through the house, she would wear her house coat with a yard stick perfectly balanced inside her pocket. It would tower over her. Being an occasional troublemaker, I knew what that yard stick was
for.
During many summers, we snapped beans in the living room. We’d pull the fresh green beans from a large stainless mixing bowl, snap the ends off and toss them into a paper bag. I would sit with Mi-ma for hours, quietly, listening to the bean as it snapped, to the pop as it hit the bag. It’s funny, I don’t care for green beans, never have. But I sure enjoyed snappin’ them.
Mi-ma eventually moved out of that house in the Heights. Her new place was close to my college and I would occasionally see her after class. We would sit and talk; Mi-ma in her chair and me on the couch. The conversations were both warm and deliberate. We never talked about politics or religion. I figure we had better things to talk about.
After graduation, we have a dinner celebration for Caitlin at Cheddar’s. While waiting for our food, we laugh and talk about her journey through school. As I watch Caitlin, I reflect on snappin’ beans with my grandmother. I see Mi-ma in my daughter’s sweet smile, her kind words, and her warm eyes. She is a lady after all…
My late grandmother would have enjoyed the ceremony. It would have been a treat to see these three ladies together. Caitlin never knew my grandmother.
As a child, I often went to my grandmother’s house in the Heights. On the way, I remember crossing the Pierce Elevated and the floating motion it made of my
Mom’s ’66 Oldsmobile. Mi-ma, as I called her, was always home. She lived in a house on Rose Street. The large, brick house was built before the war and aged well. Mi-ma always had bread out for the birds. Inside, she was cooking, or watching soap operas, or reading. She was a reader like my Mom.
Supper was always polite. We would have meaningful discussions with the TV off - no distractions. I don’t believe I ever heard her cuss or fuss. She was a lady after all.
Mi-ma was a short woman, but intimidating. While walking through the house, she would wear her house coat with a yard stick perfectly balanced inside her pocket. It would tower over her. Being an occasional troublemaker, I knew what that yard stick was
for.
During many summers, we snapped beans in the living room. We’d pull the fresh green beans from a large stainless mixing bowl, snap the ends off and toss them into a paper bag. I would sit with Mi-ma for hours, quietly, listening to the bean as it snapped, to the pop as it hit the bag. It’s funny, I don’t care for green beans, never have. But I sure enjoyed snappin’ them.
Mi-ma eventually moved out of that house in the Heights. Her new place was close to my college and I would occasionally see her after class. We would sit and talk; Mi-ma in her chair and me on the couch. The conversations were both warm and deliberate. We never talked about politics or religion. I figure we had better things to talk about.
After graduation, we have a dinner celebration for Caitlin at Cheddar’s. While waiting for our food, we laugh and talk about her journey through school. As I watch Caitlin, I reflect on snappin’ beans with my grandmother. I see Mi-ma in my daughter’s sweet smile, her kind words, and her warm eyes. She is a lady after all…
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