Nan

I called my grandmother "Nan" because, as a very touchy teenager, I thought that calling her "Nanna" was too babyish. Nan was my mother figure, sometimes harsh in her ways of punishing me when I was younger but always very loving. I lived with my grandparents all of my life, along with my mother and then my sister, who was 9 years younger than me. Nan, at about 4' 10", was the boss in our household and we clashed a lot because I was a strong willed child. I never really appreciated her at the time but I think differently now.

Nan never worked outside the home but she had her little side business, bootlegging, that she did on the weekends. It always looked to me that our little apartment was a place for lonely bachelors to come for a few hours of socializing, have a couple of beers, and then traipse home with a bag full of preserves that my grandmother had packed for them. I doubt she ever made a profit from her bootlegging. She was generous to a fault and seldom did anything for herself.

Nan had a few vices. She thought nothing of taking a load of paper napkins or cutlery home from a restaurant. I was shocked to discover this one day while I held her shopping bag as she was paying the restaurant bill. Nan, like most of us, had her own ideas about honesty so I wisely stopped going to reataurants with her in case we both ended up in jail.

Nan, like me, loved to shop with whatever small funds she could put together. When she passed away, we found unopened boxes of various knick knacks piled under her bed. She had been attracted to their prettiness but really had no place to display them in our tiny apartment. When I think of my grandmother, I think of a tiny old woman who made the best she could out of a rather poverty stricken life.

My grandfather worked well into his 70's and my mother worked, too, but both had poor paying jobs. We were the epitome of the working poor so I strongly identify with people in those circumstances. We struggled but our apartment was spotless clean and there were always good meals on the table.

It's too bad but often we don't appreciate our elders until we're older ourselves and that's how it was with me. My grandparents took on the responsibility of raising an infant when they didn't have to do so. Then they took on the further responsibility of raising my sister 9 years later. Granted, my mother was there, too, but she would have had it much harder if we didn't live with my grandparents.

I know now how much she sacrificed for my mother, sister, and me and wish there was a way to thank her. Maybe she already knows how I feel, anyway. I hope so.