by Heather Doyle Fraser

Perfect nurturer...

You rest quietly, inside,

Beckoning, come forth.

I think about my grandmother all of the time these days. I still have the vanity dresser that she gave to me when I was 13 years old. It’s a focal point in my adult bedroom, just as it was in my teenage bedroom. It’s part of the set that my grandfather bought for them when they were first married in 1927.

I remember when it was in their house on Clinton Heights and it lived in the “green room” — that’s what we called the room with the two twin beds and the double bed, which was of course, green. Oh, that room! That’s where we cousins were jumping one afternoon from bed-to-bed-to-bed-to-loveseat-to-hopechest-back-to-the-bed-again and where, on one of those fateful leaps, I fell and broke my arm… but that’s another story. The vanity dresser sat in the dormer alcove of that room and it was the perfect little space for it. There was good light from the window and you felt nestled in and protected.

My sister and I never slept in that room when we spent the night at Grandma’s and Grandpa’s house on the weekends. She could have had us sleep upstairs. There were two perfectly good bedrooms up there and four beds between them, but instead she made me a bed on the couch (or davenport as she called it) and put my sister on a cot next to me. She left the hurricane lamp on for us that sat on a side table at the end of the room. It wasn’t easier for her to make-up these make-shift beds for us, but she knew that we felt scared to be “so far away from her” upstairs.

Sometimes, though, when I got a little older, I would go upstairs and I would sit at that vanity and write in my journal. I would open the drawers and explore. There were small boxes of buttons — I remember that — and thread, but I don’t remember what else was in those four drawers. I remember writing in my journal there — I actually probably called it a diary at the time, now that I think about it. I confessed my preteen angst and I’m sure, some fear and uncertainty, too. I also remember self-consciously glancing into the mirror every now and then while I was writing. I remember wondering what Grandma did as she sat at this vanity and looked at herself in the mirror when it was in her bedroom.

It’s funny, because even now when I look in that mirror and sit at that vanity I still wonder — daily — what she thought and how she felt. Now, I keep my makeup in one of the drawers and hair brushes and hair dryer and flat iron in the others. I have her photo, my perfume, and sometimes some fresh flowers from my garden on the vanity. I look at her sometimes — so young in that picture — as I’m getting ready. Sometimes I am just preparing for a work-at-home day (every day these days) on Zoom calls. Other times I am getting ready to perform at a show with the band (this hasn’t happened in a while). In either case, I look at her photo and it gives me strength.

When I look at that photo, particularly recently, I think about the fact that she had nearly her whole life in front of her when that picture was taken. She was just 18 years old, and yet, it was 1923 so she had lived through so much already. World War I was over. The Influenza Pandemic of 1918-1920 was a memory. She would have been in school when that was happening, just like my daughter Eva is now. There would have been mask mandates — did she wear one? I think often about how strong she was to have seen and experienced so many hardships in her lifetime. Shortly after she married, the stock market crashed, the country spiraled into the Great Depression and then was catapulted into World War II. During that time she also gave birth to seven children and experienced so many wonderful things as well.

She may not have realized it when she was in the midst of raising those seven children and being a partner to her husband — or maybe she did, I don’t know — but she was running a business like me. Her business, though, was her family. I think about all of the cooking and cleaning and managing of the household she must have done with seven children and a husband who had his ran his own dental practice out of their home. I would venture to guess that most times when she sat at this vanity she was tired. But she rarely let that show, at least not to my knowledge. She was almost always doing something. I think the only times I saw her sitting were when she was eating, or sewing, or watching The Love Boat with me and my sister on Saturday nights. Even when she was “doing” she knew how to “BE” with the ones she loved, though. You could feel her fierce love for her family in everything she did. This is something I think about as I navigate my life on a daily basis and her presence still brings me comfort. She was an example for me at a very young age of what alignment of values, words, and actions looks like in practice. Oh, and something else, compassion.

My memories are filled with what I recognize now as acts of compassion, love, kindness, and determination. When she died, I was just 13. I never knew her as an adult or even a late teen. Just the same, though, my memories are plentiful and vivid because she gave to me with a freeness that only comes with knowing who you are at your center. She knew who she was at her core and so she was able to give without fear or insecurity to the people she loved. This is why she always comes to my heart and my mind when I need that comfort that she gave me as a child. She provided that love, but also that exemplar of a person in integrity, and that nurtures me. Some things I think about when I think of my grandmother:

Cooking a meal from scratch is a way to show love to the people you love. Food is nourishing and delicious and can be something that brings family and people together.
It feels good to help others and do for others.
Do what you love and if you can serve others while you are doing that, then you’ve hit the jackpot. Grandma was a talented seamstress, very creative, and perseverance in motion. She loved to sew, but didn’t find a need for new clothes for herself all of the time, so to meet that need to create and make something beautiful, she would make all of her grandchildren (26) Halloween costumes. My favorite costume that she made me was a cross between Glinda the Good Witch and a Princess. She used an old pink quilted bathrobe of hers and embellished it with so many beads, baubles, taffeta, and tulle. It was so beautiful. Oh and there was a gypsy costume she made for me — she used an old dress of hers and added fringe and buttons and beads and scarves — it was perfect!
Red raspberries taste like summer. Every time I eat one, I close my eyes and think of the bushes at the back of her yard on Clinton Heights. Some days I would go back there and look for the super red, ripe ones. They were in a hedge that sat a bit away from the back edge of her yard so I could sit down there, nestled in this safe, quiet spot. Unseen from the house, I would gingerly pick one and quickly pop it in my mouth, over and over, savoring the sweet taste and feeling the sun on my face.
It’s really handy to have an apple tree in your backyard, especially when you bake pies and make apple butter. Has anyone ever made a mini-pie just for you with your first initial etched into the top crust? Thinking about this little pie coming out of her oven brings me back to her kitchen and puts the taste of tart and sweet apples with that flaky, buttery crust into my mouth.
When your street is newly paved it is the PERFECT time to get out your roller skates — the kind that tie onto your shoes are just FINE -- and glide down the street to the stop sign. (Okay — I’ll be honest — in my mind I glided, but those tie-on roller skates sometimes came untied and there was no gliding happening when your feet accidentally jumped out of those beauties.)
She would have loved the messaging of Reduce — Reuse — Recycle! Living through The Great Depression and raising a large family she was ALL ABOUT THIS! For instance, there are so many uses for everyday household items that you might accidentally throw away. Here are some examples: 1) Rubber bands -- There are so many uses for rubber bands! I don’t know all of these uses, but one of the uses is to create a huge rubber band ball that you can bounce around the kitchen. 2) Twist ties -- There aren’t as many twist ties these days, but I do have a collection of bread tags in my kitchen drawer as an homage to Grandma. They are surprisingly handy when you are washing dishes — great scrapers for stuck on food! 3) Bread bags -- I know you might be tempted to put leftovers in old bread bags. No. The best use for old bread bags happens right after a rain shower. First, put one bag inside your shoe and then put another bag over top of your shoe. Double protection! Sure, the ones on the outside become pulverized as you run around, but your feet don’t get wet from the rain or the puddles. They will be really sweaty, though. (This makes me laugh every time I think about it!)
Ice cream is the perfect dessert on nights when you don’t feel like making sour cream cookies (you haven’t lived until you’ve eaten these, trust me), pie, or pineapple upside down cake. “Ice cream just fills in all the cracks! You are never too full for ice cream.” This is a direct quote from Grandma, and I think, words to live by.
Front porch swings are the most wonderful inventions. I loved sitting on her front porch swing in the summer, especially at night. Sometimes she would come out and talk with me there, and I felt understood and seen. She was 67 years older than me, and yet she still talked with me, person to person, not at me like someone else might. We would talk about books sometimes (my favorite subject) and she leant me books from her girlhood. The two that I remember most, gingerly reading them and turning their yellowed pages were Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm by Kate Douglas Wiggin published in 1903 and Moods by Louisa May Alcott published in 1864. It’s not lost on me that she gave me these books to read -- her personal girlhood copies — when I was a girl and both of these books were written by women. At that time when these books were written, that was remarkable and I’m sure it sent me a subtle message that I could be a published author someday, too.

This list could go on and on for a long time. In fact, each thing on this list is probably a story in itself. For now, though, I will just leave it here. Whenever I think of her and all of these memories, I am acutely aware that she is still with me. This is how I have always felt. My grandmother was small in stature, but as you can see, so big in my mind and my heart. She was fierce and compassionate, generous and kind, thoughtful, and action-oriented. And, I know she was human so she was also a lot more. Everyone has duality, but when you know who you are and what you stand for, your actions come easily, and this is what I always felt when I was with her. This is what I feel when I think of her now.

And even though I do have her vanity and use it daily, all I have to do is look down at my own hands to feel close to her. I see her hands in my hands. They are small but strong. I remember the first time I noticed this was when I was living in Boston after graduating from college. I had moved there about six months after I graduated and even though there were things that I really liked about living there, it was hard. One day I was riding home from work on the train and I was feeling particularly down and weary. I looked down in my lap at my hands and I realized that my hands looked just like my grandmother’s hands. It filled me with relief and comfort at the time and still does. When I got home to my apartment that night I wrote this poem:

IN THIS CITY (1996)

I saw her hands today — Grandma’s.

They were on the train...

Hands that were loving and kind, here

On a train that is crowded and stuffy-rude.

They don’t fit in this city.

Her hands live on Clinton Heights,

In Ohio’s apple pies, and

Homemade Halloween costumes…

They are hands of hugs and

Squeezes and tender-safe goodnights,

Calm and mothering.

They are not hands of city

Subways and faceless crowds,

But they are here,

Maybe to tell me that I am

Not alone.