Gram and Bompy (my cousin Bill's version of Grandpa) were very involved in my young life. Many road trips between MA and VT, always stopping at the woolen mill in Keene, NH to pick up a yard of wool for Gram to make me a skirt or jumper. Gram was thrifty to put it mildly. She did not waste a morsel of food, counted toilet paper squares, saved S&H Green stamps, required good behavior and held true to a June Cleaver style of home. Her favorite saying to me was "Don't you be sassy young lady!"
Grandpa (or Bompy) was mostly a nighttime grandpa. He worked at the steel mill and in the evenings we would sit around the black and white TV, his favorite show being Mitch Miller and follow the bouncing ball singing along with Mitch. We'd watch I Love Lucy, The Honeymooners, Disney and Ed Sullivan. Bompy was typical of the era, the bread winner and guardian of his family.
Grandpa worked and ate at the Automat after Lucille died. The Thompson Civil Engineering Company was on Mechanic Street; he went early and went home late. Somewhere in the early 60s he met Helen.
Grampa was a giver. He loved to see his family happy and for my entire life he was the Christmas gift giver, the benefactor or fairy godfather to us all. When we were little Gramp would buy 'the special' gift for each of us and as we got older he always did the big family gift; a pool table for instance.
Grampa was proud. He was proud of his own accomplishments as well as ours. Over and over, in company, he would pull out a letter or card I had written to him and say "Look at her penmanship! Isn't it amazing?" or to company about Helen, "My wife is wonderful! Isn't she wonderful?"
Grampa loved antiques. In his early adult life Grampa would go to little auctions in his free time. He began his antique hobby/career buying a small box of miscellaneous objects for a dollar, not knowing what he might find. On one such occasion he found an ivory pie crimper. Years later that pie crimper (bought in a box for a dollar) was sold to Sotheby's and took he and Helen to Russia on an extended trip.
Grammie was straight out of a comfortable novel to me. Her little farmhouse in Clinton Corners, NY was surrounded by flowers. It always seemed to be somewhat storybook to me. The stairs up to the upper bedroom were steep. The bedroom ceiling was pitched, the first I had every seen that. In the summer it was h-o-t and the winter c-o-l-d. She would tuck a hot water bottle at the foot of the bed to warm it up for you.
She loved to take her 'city kids' on a deer ride at dusk. We would all bundle into her car as the sun was going down and search fields and the woods edge for deer. I do that to this day.
She had a superstitious quirk. I am not sure if it was for our benefit or if she truly believed it. When you spilled a bit of salt by accident, you were to pick the shaker up and throw it over your left shoulder while you made a wish. Honest. She had us do that! That was fun and playful and silly; not a part of my life before then. The 'real' counter to the bad luck of spilling salt, a valuable commodity in the Middle Ages, was to throw a pinch over your shoulder, not the whole shaker. That little addition was Gram's twist.
What is it about this hand-me down group called grandparents that intrigues me? Each of these folks had different personalities, different strengths and different influences on my childhood. They were family. Sharing their space was calm in the storm. Being in their company was to feel boundless love and acceptance, this often being wordless. They were family. In retrospect I believe each bore daily challenges with dignity. Each one of them inspired me by the way they lived life, making my life richer. They were family. Each grandparent played the 'occasional game': occasional caregiver, occasional playmate, occasional teacher, occasional disciplinarian, occasional fellow traveler and occasional parent. I have carried pieces of each of them with me throughout life, sometimes knowingly and other times a subliminal presence.
Thank you Lucille, Francis, Helen, Ruby, Bill and Leona. Family.
NOTES:
The question of 'connection' was asked.
Mother Gail was the daughter of Francis and Lucille.
Francis later married Helen
Ruby and Bill were parents of my dad Doug
My mother Gail died when I was young.
Doug married Inez when I was 11.
At 11, with Inez came Leonia, my grammie teacher. So many pieces of her follow me today.