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jianantonicToday is Marma's 100th birthday. She is my paternal grandmother, and the 24th of this month will mark 10 years since she died. I can't believe it's been that long, because she's still with me every day. I miss her so much, but at the same time, I feel like I know her well enough to know what she would say in conversations with me, well enough to keep having those conversations sometimes. But then again, she was full of surprises.
She taught me the "beans, beans, they're good for your heart..." song -- all three verses of it -- and she told me about the time back in the 20's when she got poison ivy "all over [her] body" from "rolling around under a tree with [her] beau." She was the oldest of six and the only girl. She was born in Schuyler and earned a bachelor's degree from Randolph Macon, then a master's from UVA in the 1930's. She came from money and had more brains than your average Mensa meeting, but she married a poor farmboy who'd never finished high school. They lived on the farm in Massies Mill and she taught Latin in Nelson County.
She raised four kids she was very proud of, but everyone always said it was her grandkids she held most dear. There were 10 of us and two great-grandkids when she died, and not a day went by that she didn't brag about us to someone. I was always hearing her say how smart we were, and how good-looking, but mostly just how smart. There was a lot of emphasis put on education in our family. I can't recall a day in my childhood that Marma and I didn't read together, and also play cards. Cards were fun, of course, but important for math. By the time I was 2, I had an arsenal of at least 10 card games with complicated rules that I could win without anyone bending the rules for me. And we never even bothered with child's play like go fish.
She lived in our home, not because she needed us to take care of her and watch out for her in old age, but because we needed her. My parents worked long hours and had two teenagers and a baby, and just couldn't handle all the rides to football practice, debate, and all the diapers, so Marma moved in to help out. She read to me every night, at first because it was educational for me, but we kept going long into my school years simply because it was our thing. I fell asleep every night with Marma at the foot of my bed reading some book to me, probably until I was about 12.
She drove me to ballet every day, and if I was lucky, I could convince her not to take me -- but that wasn't often.
She lectured me on the importance of a healthy diet, and then cooked me French toast that was literally soggy from all the butter she'd used.
When she had a close call with death in her mid-80's, she spent a week in the hospital with angina and a bad flu, but she didn't sweat it. She was actually pleased, because she lost enough weight in the hospital to fit into a size 2. She bought a size 2 dress suit, not because she needed it or even liked it, but because it was a size 2. And she wore it all the time, and all the time told people that it was a size 2. After she'd been out with it on a few times, my mom noticed that she was wearing it backwards -- and probably would've fit into a 0 if she'd put it on the right way ;)
I don't know if anyone in my life has ever loved me as much as she did, but that doesn't bum me out. It makes me feel lucky, because I got to have a closer relationship with Marma than most people get to have with their grandparents, and I spent more time with her in 15 years than people who are in their fifties when their grandparents pass get to spend with theirs. I miss her all the time; I love her all the time; I am thankful for her all the time.
Happy 100th, Marma.
She taught me the "beans, beans, they're good for your heart..." song -- all three verses of it -- and she told me about the time back in the 20's when she got poison ivy "all over [her] body" from "rolling around under a tree with [her] beau." She was the oldest of six and the only girl. She was born in Schuyler and earned a bachelor's degree from Randolph Macon, then a master's from UVA in the 1930's. She came from money and had more brains than your average Mensa meeting, but she married a poor farmboy who'd never finished high school. They lived on the farm in Massies Mill and she taught Latin in Nelson County.
She raised four kids she was very proud of, but everyone always said it was her grandkids she held most dear. There were 10 of us and two great-grandkids when she died, and not a day went by that she didn't brag about us to someone. I was always hearing her say how smart we were, and how good-looking, but mostly just how smart. There was a lot of emphasis put on education in our family. I can't recall a day in my childhood that Marma and I didn't read together, and also play cards. Cards were fun, of course, but important for math. By the time I was 2, I had an arsenal of at least 10 card games with complicated rules that I could win without anyone bending the rules for me. And we never even bothered with child's play like go fish.
She lived in our home, not because she needed us to take care of her and watch out for her in old age, but because we needed her. My parents worked long hours and had two teenagers and a baby, and just couldn't handle all the rides to football practice, debate, and all the diapers, so Marma moved in to help out. She read to me every night, at first because it was educational for me, but we kept going long into my school years simply because it was our thing. I fell asleep every night with Marma at the foot of my bed reading some book to me, probably until I was about 12.
She drove me to ballet every day, and if I was lucky, I could convince her not to take me -- but that wasn't often.
She lectured me on the importance of a healthy diet, and then cooked me French toast that was literally soggy from all the butter she'd used.
When she had a close call with death in her mid-80's, she spent a week in the hospital with angina and a bad flu, but she didn't sweat it. She was actually pleased, because she lost enough weight in the hospital to fit into a size 2. She bought a size 2 dress suit, not because she needed it or even liked it, but because it was a size 2. And she wore it all the time, and all the time told people that it was a size 2. After she'd been out with it on a few times, my mom noticed that she was wearing it backwards -- and probably would've fit into a 0 if she'd put it on the right way ;)
I don't know if anyone in my life has ever loved me as much as she did, but that doesn't bum me out. It makes me feel lucky, because I got to have a closer relationship with Marma than most people get to have with their grandparents, and I spent more time with her in 15 years than people who are in their fifties when their grandparents pass get to spend with theirs. I miss her all the time; I love her all the time; I am thankful for her all the time.
Happy 100th, Marma.
