The people who spoke in church this morning talked at some length about their mothers and how their mothers influenced their lives. Most were positive, although a few lamented the fact that their mother had been less of a positive influence than they would have liked. As I was sitting there listening to the stories and reflections, I did a little reflecting on my own mother, grandmothers, and one great-grandmother that affected my life, and I thought I should write down some of my thoughts. I have been very fortunate to have several positive and influential women in my life.
Nana
Nana was my father's mother. She and my grandfather lived in New York, a drive of about four hours from where I grew up. We saw them during holidays and summer vacations, and occasionally on long weekends. Nana was one of the kindest and most selfless people I have ever met. I doubt that she dedicated much energy to thinking of herself. She was a teacher and school administrator professionally and dedicated many years to educating children. By the time I came along, she was retired from teaching, but retirement never stopped her from inspiring and encouraging my curiosity and that of my siblings. Nothing was too small or insignificant for her attention if it was something of interest to one of her grandchildren. From the cracks that formed in the sidewalk near the house from tree roots growing underneath to the splash made when we dropped pebbles into neighborhood storm drains. Between visits, she would save up her loose change on her dresser, and when we visited, my siblings and I would sit down with her at the dining room table and sort out the coins and pick out the shiniest ones. As a child, the fun was not in receiving a few dollars, but rather in finding the shiniest coins with my grandmother. Interesting rocks, stray golf balls that ended up in the yard, and berries that grew on some of the hedges were all things she explored with us. And she never hesitated to sit down on the floor with us to play with our toy trains or matchbox cars. Nana passed away in 2018, a couple of weeks after her 100th Mothers' Day, and I still think of her often. When I went away to college, I still called her every week, and I often find myself wishing I still could.
Oma
Oma was my mother's grandmother. She lived with my grandmother in southern Maine, just a couple of hours from where I grew up. We saw her around the holidays and over many weekends throughout the year. She was a small German woman with a large personality. She came to the United States around the time she turned 70 to help her daughter raise a family while her son-in-law was serving in the Army in Vietnam. She loved puzzles, and I always loved to help her with them. In her puzzling, the stereotype for German efficiency was apparent. After she assembled a puzzle once, she would divide it into sections, bag up each section separately, then place the bags in the box. The next time she wanted to put that puzzle together, she could quickly and efficiently assemble each section, completing a thousand-piece puzzle in just a few hours. The speed at which she completed puzzles was a thing of wonder to me as a child, although as an adult I wonder if such efficiency affects the enjoyment of such a hobby! While she spoke and understood English, she refused to speak it with her grandchildren. We could speak to her in English, but she would always speak to us in German. I appreciate that she was trying to help us learn a second language, although the attempt was somewhat unsuccessful while she was alive. As an adult, I have visited her homeland and found the language quite easy to pick up, no doubt because of her efforts in my youth. She passed away in 2005, and I was fortunate to have her around for my childhood.
Memere
Memere is my mother's mother, and Oma's daughter. While Memere is also German, she got the French-Canadian title from my grandfather's side, since "Oma" was already in use for her mother. She is in her late 80's now, but sometimes I think she has more energy than me! As long as I have known her, she has always had a lot of energy. That must have come in handy when she was younger. She raised three children while her husband was in the Army. He went to Vietnam twice, leaving her to care for their young family. Fortunately, he also returned, but to a young mother in a new country, learning a new language, that must have been stressful. Christmas at her house was always memorable. She pulled out all the stops and the entire house, inside and out, was decorated for the holiday. The decorations went up after Thanksgiving and stayed up into January. Naturally, there was a German theme to it, but that is what she grew up with, and consequently, it was a memorable part of my childhood. She always had the prettiest Christmas tree, but I was afraid to get too close for fear that I might break one of the delicate-looking ornaments simply by looking too hard at it! Her house always seemed so cozy at Christmas. I am fortunate to still have Memere in my life, and we text and talk regularly, although perhaps a little less often than we should.
Mom
Lastly, and most significantly, there is my own mother. As a child, she encouraged all my interests, however fleeting they may have been. She always encouraged me to be involved in things that interested me, and for many years was my chauffer to those activities. As an adult, I think I better realize the challenges she faced, of which I was totally unaware as a child. She has had rheumatoid arthritis in her knees and hips her whole life. As a child, all I knew was that she went up and down the stairs slowly and she could not ride a bicycle. It never occurred to me that she was different, even though I could get up the stairs at twice the speed. Even without riding a bike herself, she taught me to do so. She was confident in what she could do, or at least it seemed that way to me, and she never seemed to let her disability stop her from trying things, even if she had to modify an activity in order to participate. As an adult, I wonder how often she was uncomfortable or in pain and I had no idea as a child. As I have gotten older, she has become a best friend, and I always enjoy visiting and catching up on the phone. Now I live on the other side of the continent, and while I love the life I have created for myself, I do wish it was closer to her! Visiting just a couple of times each year is not enough, and even when a visit lasts several weeks, it always goes too fast.
