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From the time I remember my Grandma Higgins until she died many years later when I was an adult with children of my own, she always looked the same.
Her skin was prematurely wrinkled from working long hours in the fields, her hair, which hung to her waist the very few times I ever saw it down, was prematurely grey; she wore it the same til the day she died, pulled back in a bun.Â
I considered her quite old when I was a child, although I now realize she was probably only in her 50's. Because of her wizened skin and her severe hairstyle, she always seemed older. She never wore make-up, not even lipstick;  Her dress shoes were old-fashioned; they laced and they had a thick mid-heel.Â
She bought a new pair every year or so; but she never varied from that style. She bought the same shoe over and over again.....her "Sunday" shoes, she called them. The only incongruity was that she loved bright, floral dresses. She had several in different patterns.Â
She was a short, plump little Irish gnome with faded blue eyes that I suspected had probably been intense and sparkled when the sun hit them in her youth.
She clung to the old ways with that stubborn Irish way of hers long past the need or necessity to do so. She flatly refused to allow her children to buy her a new modern stove; she had no use for fancy margarine sticks, and she wanted nothing whatsoever to do with "store-bought" soap. She made her own well into her 70's.
The granddaughter of a traveling preacher man, she was devout to a fault, read her Bible faithfully every day, prayed each night on her knees, walked a mile to church and home twice on Sunday and every Wednesday evening and firmly believed that those who were not of her particular religious persuasion were going straight to hell...and she didn't mind telling them so.Â
For those who wonder how a liberal such as I can have such a deep abiding faith, I can only say, "You NEVER met my grandma!" She made it her personal mission to see that we grandchildren knew exactly how we were supposed to live and why.Â
And we believed her....you DIDN'T question Grandma when it came to faith. We knew she had a direct line straight to Heaven, and we didn't want her badmouthing us to the Big Boss.Â
So, we towed the line, we studied our Bible lessons and we went to church with her, even if our parents didn't always.
Of course, they heard from her when they didn't and Grandma could chew someone out better than anyone I ever met without ever using a "curse" word. Boy, did she have attitude for someone who stood barely five feet tall.
I never thought nor knew much about Grandma's youth and her teen years. She never talked a lot about them and I never really asked, though now I wish I had.
I knew that she had come from Texas in a covered wagon, that her father had died along the way, and that's about it.Â
These days I try to picture what she must have been like as a young woman; she married my grandfather when she was 19 and he was 20.   He died suddenly of pneumonia at 44, leaving my grandmother with seven children, three of whom were grown and married; but four still younger at home.
She lived into her 90's spending more of her life alone than with him. I believe, though, that they had a great love affair. His name was William; but she always called him "Will." He was the one person she did always remember and reminisce about....her times with Will.
I just half-listened as a child, anxious to be about something else. How I wish I had paid more attention. My father died when I was only 22, so I never had the opportunity as an adult to ask him about his father and his mother when they were young parents.
There was a great history lesson there and a sweet love story that I completely missed, and I regret it so now.
posted on Jan 11, 2012 8:59 PM ()
What an amazing person! I never knew my maternal grandmother in life, but my Mom shared much about her and I treasure thoughts of her. I'm trying now to trace my Mom's Dad's lineage back, and I wish I knew more. I was too young to discuss much of his life with him or with my paternal grandfather. I was nine when they died. My paternal grandmother and I shared many times together and long talks. She left us her journals, and they are treasures.
I adored my grandparents and fortunately got a lot of inspiration from them.
I listened to the stories and revel in them but no one seems very interested
but my son.
I listened to the stories and revel in them but no one seems very interested
but my son.
As a child I lived in Ontario. My dad's parents lived in British Columbia and my mom's parents lived in England.
comment by nittineedles on Jan 12, 2012 11:56 AM ()
You didn't have much of a chance to know your grandparents, did you?
My grandparents were all gone by the time I was 18. And we didn't live near either side, so I didn't really know them that well.
Nice tribute to the memory of your grandmother. And, like me, you never knew her husband, your grandfather. The neat thing about genes is that you'll forever carry a piece of them with you.
comment by solitaire on Jan 12, 2012 6:42 AM ()
Yes, and I have a piece of my grandmother in my heart also.
I think we all take our grandparents/parents for granted when they die before we know we need to appreciate them...
comment by kristilyn3 on Jan 12, 2012 6:30 AM ()
Appreciate them and learn about their history before it's too late.
never had the experience with grandmother.Both of them were in Italy and never got to know them.For me did not get this.
comment by fredo on Jan 12, 2012 4:20 AM ()
So sorry, Fredo. It's a shame you never met your grandmothers. I'll bet they were both delightful.
I was the only one of her 9 grandchildren that my mother's mother spoke to in English--everyone else it was Yiddish--and I was lucky to become an important part of my father's mother life when I was in my 20s--2 immigrant women who made sure their children had an education and that their grandchildren were loved
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