


Tonight I have a tale to tell.
My grandmother is an amazing woman. She was raised with money, and with a hightened awareness of proper social etiquette. That being said, she is vivavious and funny and very clever and creative. She graduated from Weelock College with a degree in early childhood education. Did I mention that she is 91? In the day, that was no small task (not that it's small today either, but- you know what I mean). She has some fun stories from growing up...she dated Joe Kenneday Jr, but he stopped calling on her when she wouldn't sneak out and go to visit Kennebunkport (sp?) with him (she just knew she'd be caught).
On a train headed to- hmm, I'm not sure I remember where, maybe to New York? or New Haven? she met my grandfather. He was older than she, charming, and she assumed not available. he changed his plans just to be on the train with her. They later married.
My grandmaother converted the garage into a nusury school called Little Brick School, which she ran for forty years. The backyard became an amazing playyard, with a playhouse that included a slide down the chimney, a rescued water tower ladder which she had fashoined into alternating "m" shapes for kickin' monkey bars, four swings fashioned to an "x" configuration, with a wheel mechanism mounted to a tall pole. The end result- four kids run in a circle with the swings around their bellies. If they time it right, they all go flying, H I G H!!!
She would find interesting tree stumps and arrange to have them brought to her yard for a place for kids to climb and create forts out of. She had an old foyer/steeple type building that she recovered and had as another little building which housed bikes. At some point, there was a small school house built as a parade float, which then became another playhouse.
She had giant murals painted inside the school. She created an indoor sand room in the space above the breezeway connecting the house and school.
Her creativity goes on and on.
Fortunately, my grandfather was also creative, and good with tools.
"Tom, I found this old saddle. I think the children need something they can pretend is a horse, on which they can ride."
My grandfather would grumble, and then created a saw horse type thing that fit the saddle, and was ambigous enough for imaginations to let the beast be anything they could possibly think of.
"Tom, I think the children need to be able to rock." This is what I imagine she said. All I know is I grew up thinking my grandmother's house was the most magical, amazing place in the whole world. And one of the many things I grew up playing with was this horse my grandfater built. The seat is well worn, and it has been painted many, many times. But it positively made me tear up with joy to see my children rocking on Grandpa Tom's horse.
Sadness, too. He died before I married, before my children were born.
And the school was sold before my kids got to see it. It was moved off the property to some other place.
The house has been remodeled; the playground is no more, and I understand the school is now a master bedroom suite and kitchen? maybe. I don't really want to know.
I'm sad my kids missed it. But I'm so grateful for the pieces that are left to help me pass along the magic to my kids.
And my grandmother? She's an surprising blend of strongly traditional, and very hip to current day. She's funny and gracious, generous and creative, and one of my strong role models for dealing with children, projects and the small problems of life...
wanna know how to clean silver without having to polish endlessly? Or to take a fruit stain out of a dress?
GG's (short for great-grandma) has it covered.
Thanks for reading through my tribute novel today. I get super sentimental, and I make no excuses. Thanks for looking!