long ago and far away...

I was recently asked to write a short essay of sorts on a favorite memory of my grandparents for their fiftieth wedding anniversary. It turned into over two pages.

It was well received and I think I would like you all to be able to read it.
Enjoy :)


Memories of Grandparents
What is my favorite memory of my grandparents? That's a tough one. When I was first approached to do this, my initial thought was, “I have no idea!” I'd never thought about it until then. I knew there were memories that I had cataloged and filed away in some dusty corner of my mind only to be found at a later, but pleasantly unexpected date. So I began with a broom and a flashlight to look for the best one I could find. Did it involve only me and them? Maybe it was an entire roomful of people all sharing the same experience? Was it on some hot summer day or maybe a cool fall afternoon? It might have been only a single conversation overheard through a half-open window.
The first memory I wiped the cobwebs from was brought on by a pang of hunger. I smiled remembering how each year during my childhood, Grandpa would carry into the house a flat full of onions and potatoes. Grannie would look them over, deem them acceptable and they would set to work sowing the small field behind the house with that year's garden of crops. Sometimes I was able to help, but only if I was not previously engaged with a book or a bike. The summer would pass into early fall and Grannie would get out the canning equipment. There would be jars upon jars lining the counter-tops of green beans, tomatoes, pickles, and any number of vegetables that happened to have sounded good when they were out buying the seeds. Everyone knew they were going to get a share and if needed, an extra jar or two to help during a short week. Yes, that one was a great memory. But was it my favorite?
So I set that one aside, ear-marked just in case and began to dig some more. Years of lost thoughts coming to light again. Lost being the operative word. Picture a road trip to Kansas with Kris, Grannie and me to visit Aunt Billie. On the return trip, we left pretty late in the afternoon and before long we found ourselves driving in the dark. We'd been on the road for several hours and gradually it became quite apparent that we were not in Kansas anymore; but, neither were we in Oklahoma where we should have been. Grannie drove a few more miles and came to a road sign that read Missouri. At least a hundred miles into Missouri at that! East looked like west. Grannie, not panicked or upset, just laughed it off with us and turned the car around. It took longer to get home, but gave us three more hours together on our little adventure.
Road trips were one thing all the grandkids in our family shared with glee. We couldn't wait when summer rolled around to find out if we were headed south to see Aunt Janet and the Red River of Oklahoma or north to visit the never-tiring Aunt Billie. It didn't matter to any of us just as long as we all got our chance to go. I'm almost positive that Grandpa and Grannie drove us around the world several times over before we were all grown and out of the house, driving ourselves. I don't wonder if any of us would think twice about doing it all over again.
Must. Take. Road. Trip. Soon. OK, OK, back on task.
I still need to decide what is my favorite memory of all. Memories go by, pages upon pages of old pictures from a long lost photo album just recently found again.
I turn to a dog-eared photo showing a lit and haphazardly decorated Christmas tree. And you can't see the carpet for all the presents under that tree. Boxes and bags and ribbons and colorful papers and people I love and all the food you can stuff your face with. Christmas at my grandparents home was an affair to be envied by just about any standard. Every member of the family there talking over everyone else, laughing at some goofy trick one of the kids was doing, sometimes arguing over who had the biggest gift under the tree. I help out in the kitchen one year, the next year I'm in the bedroom laying out paper and tape to wrap last minute gifts, years before that I'm one of the kids doing some goofy trick of my own. Was it really that long ago? How did I forget so much? I'm almost crying at this point. Who wouldn't be?
It's not possible for me to pick out just ONE favorite memory from these thousands of good and bad and in-between. Each revision of my choice triggers yet another moment of nostalgia. No, I don't believe I will choose only a single, solitary memory. I cannot do the impossible, so I will do the closest thing.
Instead, I will honor my grandparents with this thought. I have been blessed with a Grannie and Grandpa who saw their family as their highest priority. Never letting you forget how much you were in their thoughts as they were giving advice you might not have wanted but probably needed at the time. Few in this world have arms wrapped around them so tightly. I am one of the lucky ones.
I congratulate you both on holding us all together (even while you might have been holding yourselves together by only a thread.) I congratulate you both on your having the courage and faith to never abandon each other. I congratulate you both on making everyone feel welcome in your home no matter who they were or why they were there. I congratulate you both for the last fifty years of bringing us joy, anger, compassion, laughter, tears, but most of all unyielding love.
Love, Cha