The "idiot box" and other memories of my grandmother

I started thinking the other day, as I watched my son's face light up with delight at the mere sight of his grandpa, we are so very lucky to have my husband's parents so close to us. How lucky my son is to be able to spend so much time with his grandparents. To build such a bond and such great memories. And if you read my previous post, you know how much he loves his grandpa.

And then I started thinking about my own childhood and how, so much of it was spent with my own grandparents. Especially my grandmother. Almost every childhood memory I have revolves around my grandmother.

My grandmother with me and my cousin at 1 month old

I spent every summer with them. We would set out in this big blue camper for the beach and camp for a week. Memories of sunburns, warm nights and sitting on the beach watching the sun disappear into the horizon are some of my favorites. Making friends with the local kids. Running around the camp site, making smores and not having a care in the world. I loved those trips to the beach.

We played games. Yahtzee, Gin Rummy, Scrabble, Go Fish, you name it, my grandmother would play it. I remember feeling so grown up playing Gin Rummy with her because it was a "real" card game. No matter where we were, she always had a deck of cards with her to pass the time when things got dull.

When I would spend the night, I remember thinking how boring it was lying on the floor, staring at the "idiot box", as my grandmother called it, while 20/20, or 60 Minutes chattered on. Funny how later in life you end up watching the same shows you thought were so boring as a kid. I could hardly wait for Jeopardy to come on because, even though I never knew the answers, (I must have been 8 or 9 at the time) it was at least fun to listen to my grandparents chatter back at the television.

My grandmother actually saved my life. While eating dinner one night, I had gotten a big hunk of steak stuck in my throat and couldn't breath. I remember my grandmother practically leaping over the table, yanking me out of my chair and squeezing me over and over again until that persistent hunk of steak finally popped out. I could breath again.

My grandmother was crafty. I remember making Easter "scenes" out of old ham cans. We would spray paint the can a shiny spring color and fill the inside with grass, trees, rocks and little ceramic bunnies. Pictures from magazines pasted on the inside of the can served as the backdrop to the scene. They were truly spectacular little vignettes.

My grandmother had a candy jar. It was a tall, beautifully carved crystal candy jar with a lid that had notches all around it like a jack o' lantern top. You had to turn it just right for the lid to fit. It sat on a table in the entry way and it was always filled with Dum Dums. Every time you walked out the door, you took a little sweetness with you. It was a ritual.

My grandmother and my dad and uncle circa 1946

My grandmother was stylish. She always wore a dress and she always wore a braided Navajo silver cuff.  She wore it everyday. I never saw her without it. And actually, when I think about my grandmother, that's the one thing I remember distinctly. Maybe from the countless hours sitting in her lap staring at it, running my finger over every groove and line. I'm not sure.  I later found out that iconic silver Navajo cuff was in reality, her engagement "ring".  I had been thinking about having one made just like it.

There are so many memories. I could write for hours. This June will be the 4th anniversary of my grandmother's passing. And I never got to say goodbye.

I don't know what happens in those teenage years when you start to think you know everything and you don't need your grandparents or any parents for that matter. But I stopped visiting her on a regular basis. And then months turned into years and the years turned into many. And then life just sweeps you up and before you know it, you are so far down the road, its hard to make it back. It's something that I will always regret.

I spoke to her on the phone a few times prior to her passing, but age started to fatigue her mind and she never really remembered who I was. Selfishly, I decided not to see her. I wanted to hold on the memory of who she was when I was 13–carving pumpkins and catching fire flies.

And that's just what I have. Memories. Strangely enough, with all the time that I had spent with them, I have very few pictures of my grandparents. Something that I have now become very cognizant of when it comes to my son. Which really was the reason I decided to write this post. Realizing how lucky I was to share those times and how truly precious the time with grandparents really is. They are the ones that make you pancakes for dinner. Let you eat just one more cookie if you want it and jump on the bed and have pillow fights, just because its fun.

A few months a go I got an unexpected phone call from my aunt. She was in town and wanted to stop by. I hadn't seen her in years and was excited to see her. When she walked through the door she handed me something I thought I would never see again. It was my grandmothers silver cuff. The one she wore everyday of her life. Her engagement ring.

This year, I won't be getting a birthday card from her. I won't tear open the envelope and see the 5 dollar bill stuffed inside with the inscription "Have an ice cream on us!" But everyday as I put on that silver cuff, I'll know that I always have her with me.