DNA

When I think about my grandparents, I can't help but compare: Grandpop was the fun one (and warrants his own post one day); Grandmom was more serious, more tough, more by the book, showing her love in more subtle ways: the smell of dinner drifting from the kitchen, the overflowing plates on the table and her admonition to "have a little more so it doesn't go to waste," the always-full cookie jar on the kitchen counter. She showed us how to take care of her African violets, rows and rows of plants lined up on glass shelves in the windows; we helped her hang laundry on the clothesline in the back yard, dumped seeds in the bird feeder, picked tomatoes from the garden. I don't think Grandmom would have ever called herself a feminist but she worked for Bell Telephone as a young woman and again when her eldest went off to college. This made an impression on me -- wow, women can have a career!

I was a little scared of Grandmom when she issued her orders: "Make your bed!" "Clean up your mess!" "Put those suitcases away!" She wasn't all business, though, and I remember her singing, playing the piano, acting out old-timey skits with her family members, and telling funny stories till she couldn't talk because she was laughing so hard. From Grandmom I learned that that nurturing is important whether it's people or plants or taking care of your home, that women can be strong and independent and yes, "in charge," that even if you are strong and responsible, there's time for fun, and that family is the center of our relationships.

As a young Air Force wife, my mom left her familiar little town in New Jersey and sailed to France to join my dad. By all accounts, she loved her time overseas and this set the tone for our many travels as a military family. On any assignment, there were some who complained about everything that was unfamiliar, but not my mom. By her example, I learned to be open minded, curious, interested in cultures other than my own, and to embrace new experiences. Mom also passed on her great love of reading to all of us kids, reading to us when we were very small and later encouraging us to enjoy reading on our own. We memorized poems and recited them to her, we wrote our own poems and stories, and we made a weekly trek to the library after church every Sunday. I can still picture myself with a huge stack of books in my arms; libraries and bookstores still give me a little thrill.

Widowed while barely in her 40's, Mom raised my two brothers on her own, went back to college for a Bachelor's degree and then a Master's, worked into her 70's and continues, at 82, to stay very busy with family, friends, travel and fun. She'll strike up a conversation with anyone, which makes me smile and think about all the times my kids would try to hurry me along when I talked too long with someone I'd just met or happened to run across while out and about. And, like Grandmom, Mom loves a good laugh, one that is so hearty that she can't talk and almost can't breathe.

My younger sister, bless her heart, often took the brunt of her bossy big sister's misadventures and shenanigans. While I was rebellious and a "handful," she was quiet, shy and obedient (or at least outwardly so!) As adults, though, we have forged a close sister/friend relationship and I have seen her become a strong advocate for the underdog, humans and animals alike. A recently retired school teacher, she was a tireless supporter of the strugglers, the troubled, the misunderstood. The mom of 6, she seems a paragon of patience and understanding, echoing our mother's words, "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." (On the other hand, I am not so sweet and never liked that directive very much). My sister sings, acts, writes, edits, takes up causes, and pursues her dreams with gusto. From her I've learned that it's never too late to develop a new skill, to take a chance, to branch out and do something you've always wanted to do. And that a funny story and a belly laugh are the best part of any time we have together.

Although Mom once noted that she and my dad were fearful that I would not "make it" to adulthood, I managed to grow up and become the mother of three lovely daughters myself. As a mom who worked outside the home, I learned to practice patience and choosing my battles--how much of this would really matter in the end? My daughters helped me see my inconsistencies and biases and helped me figure out where I stood, what was important and what was not. From my girls, I also learned to see the joy in simple pleasures, in time spent together, in turning difficulties into "just another little adventure," and the importance of letting them be themselves. I have a heart full of pride at the compassionate and loving women they've become--now all moms, too, who tell their own kids it's just another little adventure and love a huge laugh just like the rest of us.