Welcome all dreamers, fantasists, bibliophiles, and romantics. Join me Mondays and Fridays for speculation about other worlds, exploration of the human heart and soul in fiction and fact, sojourns in history and science, advice and tidbits in the realms of story, and thoughts on everything in between...

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

The Treasure of Grandparents

Yesterday, I had the great pleasure of visiting with my paternal grandparents, a treat I enjoy rarely these days. I have many fond memories from early childhood until now when my own children visit them with me. Some are small things, like the feel of their soft carpet beneath my hands next to the heating grate, a texture long impressed in my memory from my earliest years and one that, even now as an adult, I still like to feel. I chose, for a little while, to sit on the floor today rather than respectably in a chair for that very reason.

I’ve other memories: races with my cousins in the basement armed with siren guns and on tricycles, warm summer afternoons on the front porch, the walk to the ice cream shop down the street, playing Star Trek in their backyard, and so much more. But as an adult, and even when I was young, the thing I treasure most is their stories.

My grandparents tell riveting stories. At least, they’re riveting to me. They grew up in the Great Depression and survived World War II and all the challenges and changes of the modern and post modern eras, but it isn’t just this that fascinates me. It’s my granddad’s stories of dusting carrots and tomatoes from the garden off on his jeans, sprinkling them with a handful of salt, and eating them fresh. It’s my grandmother telling about how they grew potatoes during the Depression and ran out just about the time the new crop came in.

On our visits as I grew up, at my grandparents’ knees through their stories, I learned to treasure our family and our heritage. My granddad taught me a fierce pride for my Scottish ancestors and our clan, MacNaughton. My grandmother taught me a quiet way to appreciate life. Whether they meant to impart these lessons, I don’t know, but I will always hold them dear to my heart.

1 comment: