Thoughts, thoughts and more thoughts . . .

 

A child needs a grandma to spoil him a bit
Someone with time on their hands who will sit,
On an old fashioned rocker that shivers and squeaks,
And listen to words that a little boy speaks.

Someone who knows how a gingerbread man
All crumbly and fregrant and warm from the pan
Can comfort a fellow who feels a bit blue,
And nothing just right seems to happen to you.



A child needs a grandma to teach him the words,
That run like a hymn in the song of the birds,
Someone who knows where the orioles go,
When the garden is covered with inches of snow. 

And only a grandman remembered to say
"Now be a good boy" as she tucks him away,
Under the covers and pats them down tight,
For little boys sometimes get scared in the night.



A child needs the comforting knowledge of love,
Steady and sure as the stars up above,
To carry him safely through sunshine and tears,
A light in the darkness . . . a stay through the years.

A child needs a grandma to nod in her chair,
And give him her blessing by just being there.
 ~Edna Jacques

 

My Grandmother is the large woman at the back in the middle looking down.  She has her arms around my Aunt Freda to her left who was just a girl and their foster child Ronnie is just a little boy clinging to the front of her skirt.  She was a very shy woman who did not like her photograph being taken.  Probably because she was large.  I can empathise with that.  Her name was Nina Odessa and she did not have a very easy life.  My great grandfather was a very successful farmer on the South Mountain with orchards and sheep and all sorts.  He never had any sons, but Nina was a big strapping and strong girl and so she was taken out of school to help work the farm.   She never had a nice pair of shoes to wear . . . only an old pair of workboots.

She was in love as a young woman, as most girls are . . . with a man named Lem Weasel.  Her father wouldn't let them get married and so Lem moved on and eventually wed someone else.   My nan didn't marry until she was in her 30's.  My grandfather was a rough diamond who had left home at the age of 12 when he was kicked out and had wandered around since then doing odd jobs and such.  He and my grandmother did marry and it was not an easy marriage.  My grandfather was a bit of a drinker and was a mean drunk  My Aunt Freda remembered one time her mother saying that the only man she had ever loved had died and this was after the obituary of Lem Weasel had been in the paper.   She died when she was 63 of cancer.   My Aunt Freda, who was only a young woman at the time, maybe 15, was with her.  My grandfather knew she wouldn't make the day through, but went to work despite that knowledge, saying there wouldn't be anything he could do to help her anyways.  That makes me sad, because I loved my grandfather too . . . and I don't like knowing that he was often not a very nice man.



I loved my grandmother deeply.   She was a kindred spirit and there have been many times in my life that I have felt her close by and I am grateful for that.  I am grateful for her lap that was always ready to hold me and for her warm and tender hugs, and the stories, and molasses cookies and everything she gave to me during the short time I had to spend with her.  I wish I could have been a nan just like her.  Nans are different than moms.  They just are.

A thought to carry with you through today . . .

“A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.”
~ George A. Moore

 

Cooking in The English Kitchen today . . . Lemon Linguine.  Deliciously simple!

Have a wonderful Thursday!