JYL. 1922 – 2004.
The dynamic between grandparent and grandchild is far less complex than that of the one between a parent and a child. Perhaps due to the subconscious awareness of the fact that, at the end of the day, who those grandchildren grow up to be, how they behave, and who is responsible for them is really not on one’s shoulders. So they can be spoiled, indulged, coddled, showered with affection and basically – everything that they don’t receive perhaps in such abundance from their own parents and that their grandparents couldn’t show to their own kids. With strictness (usually), discipline, and tension factored out of a grandparent-child relationship, it is usually pressure and stress free.
Such is not the case between me and my grandfather – we’ve more than butted heads on more occasions than I care to remember and the depths of our history isn’t the focus today (one day though). No, today I want to write about another grandparent that I shared not a great deal of time with, but that would go onto inspire, challenge, strengthen, and provide for me in so many ways throughout my short lived life (thus far).
My grandmother is usually idealized in memory – she’s made out to be some kind of Saintly, pristine figure with no flaw in judgement, action, or decision. Of course this was quite a stretch – she had as many vices as she did virtues – perhaps what we thought was one actually turned out to be the other; but I will try to present as accurate a account of her as I possibly can here.
She wasn’t exactly beautiful in physical terms – pleasant looking and with a comforting presence yes, But far from a stunning form. She was short, stout, and wasn’t vain. She had no great collection of jewels, clothing or accessories and for most of my childhood, she was swathed in Mark’s and Spencer’s wool and poly blends or in cotton twill one pieces during warmer weather. I admit I wanted a glamorous, headstrong, unique, and daring female figure to look up to as a child – the women in my family are as about risque as a bowl of porridge with mold on it; My grandmother wasn’t at all glamorous or fulfilled my physical ideals, but the former traits….
Intellectually she blew her husband, children, friends, and relatives out of the water by yards. She wasn’t radical with it though and chose to be rather forbearing to other’s whims in everyday life. She stood up, spoke up and defended her points when she needed to though and the opposing party(s) almost always conceded. Not without courage but not wanting to cause a fracas or be the center of scandal or attention either I will always remember her with this great untapped potential. She could have been alot more than what she was – she was far too intelligent for what she had become in life. But she resigned herself to it, I daren’t say happily – but, content to a point.
She did a far better job of being a grandmother than a mother. She was idealistic, unprepared, unfeeling, and cold with her children growing up. She threw them into school, chose their courses, told them they WERE going to go to university, HAD to become professionals, and HAD to do things a certain way. Her attitude with them wasn’t one of unconditional love; it was a harsh, cool, drill sergeant type of autonomous management. They feared her yet still had tender feelings for the woman later in life. She always held a place of unshakable authority and dread in their hearts.
More toward the inclination of her husband – she signed off on purchasing their first houses in their adulthood, the downpayment on the offices of their professional practices, and regularly made monetary contributions towards their whims. This is not uncommon in Chinese culture – children get lifelong support from their parents and are expected to (deviations from the desired outcome often occur) return the favor. This very well likely may have contributed to my “Mommy Dearest” attitude towards kids of my own and my immediate relations.
The house she shared with her husband became a organized dumping ground in their later years – old school work from their grandkids, obsolete exercise equipment, broken furniture, their own school supplies/books from university – her children took the liberty of dropping it off at mom and pop’s place instead of going through the trouble of properly disposing of the stuff. She didn’t like this – but as usual, did not make a fuss about it. Their reading materials which i surveyed during visits years ago were dull – standard issue philosophy books, alot of medical and legal study guides, a smattering of dull fiction, and nothing remotely suggestive or racy. Oh yeah – lots of religious guides and bibles too. They were devoutly Christian – I left that bit out.
I loved myths, tales of masonry, witches and darkness, the forbidden or the obscure, and anything that was frowned upon or needed to be studied in secrecy myself. Thankfully my grandmother and the unlucky son of her’s that ended up with me as his daughter both did not believe in literary censorship – by absolutely no means was I allowed access to pornography, erotica, and/or lewd materials – but I was free to read whatever level of whatever I wanted.
She bought me one of my all time favorite novels as a 10th birthday gift the Autumn it was released. My birthday is November the 12th and we (myself, her, and my grandfather) that very evening for a small dinner gathering at a Chinese restaurant inside a local shopping mall (‘Fortune Garden’ I believe it was…) in an attempt to socialize me further with their/my relatives – I was selectively mute till the age of 12; I didn’t speak to anyone that i did not know like the back of my hand. My parents had been out of town for business (what kind I’m not clear on) in Hong Kong and I was left in my father’s parent’s charge. It was a brisk and dark evening out and the atmosphere in the small Mercedes sedan was tense – there was little talk and I rested my head on grandma’s lap in the backseat most of the way from their house to the mall. I fell asleep half way there and woke up not so pleasantly upon our arrival, they dragged me along across the parking lot into the commercial smelling interior of the bright mall – there was a Chinese bakery right at the entrance…I never cared for their wares. We walked and passed by a bookstore called “Coles” – on the front display shelves was a thick tome with a cover of a monotone-sepia image of a hand holding a picture of a single, large, open eye. With the heading “Margaret Atwood” at the top of the book’s cover – followed by “The Robber Bride” – in the mid of the cover.
I was instantly attracted to this and stopped to look – I said I wanted a copy and that my grandparents could forego the donation of a traditional red-pocket with $100 for my birthday in lieu of the book. Ever the cheapskate my grandfather came over, flipped through the book – and said I wasn’t allowed to own it on the grounds that it was “crazy writing, nonsense”. He slammed the book back on it’s perch on the shelf and we carried onto the restaurant. I sulked and occasionally glared at both my grandparents throughout the evening. I refused to speak to anyone flat out and didn’t have a single morsel of food; someone else had to cut my cake and extinguish my candles.
My grandfather threw a fit after the party was over and we made our way back towards the car through the mall – he called me an idiot, ungrateful, and inconsiderate of others feelings and their efforts. It may very well have been true; I’m not sure – but I didn’t care then nor do I now really. We passed the bookstore once more just as it was closing up and weary looking staff were setting up barriers. Grandma made a beeline for the not yet sealed shop and waved at an employee to let her through – she had me and granddad stay back and wait for her saying she “just wanted to have a look”; I sat on a bench with the angry old man in silence – we waited for not too long a time before she emerged with a small bag she promptly stuffed in her large shoulder purse. She said it was alright for us to leave now and rejoined us on our venture back to the car. Granddad yelled a few times and slammed his hand on the steering wheel multiple times as well – him being ‘upset’ about the evening was an understatement. He complained saying “you won’t talk to your own cousin, but you can talk to us to ask to buy that crazy book?!”. I had no comment. Grandma stepped in with “That’ll do – it’s really enough” – granddad unwillingly hushed most of the way home. We had the car parked in the small garage and I trailed behind grandma entering the house. I shot straight into my room and buried my head into a pillow and wrapped a polyester baby blanket around myself like a man-made, flammable cocoon. My granddad came in without knocking and shouted at me again – all of which I ignored and didn’t respond to – he left and came back a second time with a rubber band and snapped it against his forefinger with his thumb and asked me to get up, I refused; he grabbed my arm – I made abit of a ruckus and started to tear – before he could do whatever he was about to with the apparatus though grandma came in calmly – removed her husband from my room and bed and shut the door behind her. It was followed by shouting, mutual reprimands, then silence, silence…silence….
Grandma knocked on the door softly around an hour later. “You awake?” she asked. “Yeah” I softly nearly whispered. She opened the door and had a tray in her hands which she set down on the foot of my bed. There was chicken soup, microwave mini pizza, a slice of birthday cake, and a glass of diet Fanta on it “You didn’t eat all night – I figured you would be hungry. Eat slowly now – you won’t sleep well if you take all of it at once”. She looked at my sullen expression and the dull gleam of my eyes and hugged me and kissed my cheek “I will protect you – don’t worry about granddad ok?” I nodded and hugged her back gently.
She got up, walked to the door of the room – obtained a plastic bag with something in it from the hallway table that was just outside – and came back in and handed it to me. I slipped the bag off…it was a book…”The Robber Bride”.
She smiled and said “Happy Birthday Stephy” gently and quietly – then left my room and switched off a main light.
I didn’t know what to say then but I do now. Thanks grandma, Love you
犬神 