Take me out tonight. Where there’s music and there’s people and they’re young and alive
Last week after working at the movie theater, I came out to my car, and it was a sheet of ice. I got out my trusty ice scraper and used it, and then just before I was done, it snapped in half.
Now, to most people, buying an ice scraper isn’t a big deal, but it hit me that I’ve never bought one because the one I broke was the only ice scraper I have ever owned. My grandmother bought it for me 19 years ago, when I first bought my ‘69 VW Beetle. It lasted through the ’67 Plymouth Valiant, ’86 Chevy Chevette, ’92 Diahatsu Charade (all 3 cylinders in that car), ’97 Suzuki Sidekick and now the ’03 Mazda Protégé5.
This made me a little sad, because it was probably one of the few things that I use regularly that reminds me of her. She died almost 5 years ago on 02/19/2002, and a week doesn’t go by without me thinking about her. She was a very unique and strong willed woman who shaped me in so many ways.
My grandmother was born in Fall River, MA in 1924. Her parents had emigrated from Newcastle, England, and her father was wealthy. She used to show me pictures of their summer home on Martha’s Vineyard. I remember one specifically where she was standing on the wraparound porch in a cute little hat. She used to speak to me reverentially about her father.
When she was 18, she got pregnant to an army soldier, Henry McAvoy, who was deployed to Europe before she had time to marry him. Her father was angry with her, and shipped her off to New York City after my mother was born as he was embarrassed by the whole episode. From what I can gather, my great-grandmother sided with her daughter, and this led to problems that culminated in their divorce, and my great-grandfather taking all the money with him to his new, younger wife. I think my grandmother took the burden of her actions with her for the rest of her life.
She did marry the man who got her pregnant and moved with him to his hometown of Pittsburgh, PA. She raised my mother and had some medical problems and did not delivery any more live babies, even though it seems she was pregnant on a few other occasions. Therefore, my mother is an only child, who had six children.
She was a wonderful grandmother: there has never been a moment in my life where I ever doubted that she loved me. She was the first person I told I was gay. Actually, when I was 17 I told her I was bisexual, and her response was “I don’t believe in bisexuals – they are just greedy. Pick which one you are and be that!” To this day, I still don’t truly believe men can be true bisexuals. I have never met one myself. Many of us start out saying that as a segue into being homosexual. Like it is easier for heteros to accept us if they think we are like them in some ways. Grandma wouldn’t let me get away with it, and I didn’t.
(As an aside, I seem to have a belief that women can be bisexual much more than men. I don’t know why, but the ones I’ve met seem to be more fluid in their sexuality. Or maybe I’ve just never met a truly bisexual man.)
My grandmother fought for me and all of her other grandchildren. Once, my sister & I did something to a neighbor’s pool, I don’t even know what it was, when I was like 4 or 5 years old. I think she accused us of throwing rocks onto the pool cover. We were both young, so I can’t imagine we were throwing boulders or anything heavy to damage it, but the woman who lived there saw us do something (I personally think we were racing and I threw my gum out, but I can’t remember the truth now 32 years later.) Well, she ran after us, caught us (she was a former babysitter of ours so she knew us and we stopped running) and then proceeded to slap me & my sister. I remember standing in the middle of the street crying my eyes out.
My grandmother learned of this, marched right down to her house, yelled at her to come out, and when she didn’t come out, she trashed this woman’s porch. If that woman thought a pebble or some gum on her pool tarp was bad, she probably didn’t like a patio furniture set on thrown on top of it. There used to be a Regent Pop bottling plant nearby, so everyone always saved their Regent Pop bottles and the plant would give you a discounted rate to fill them up. This woman had about 5 cases of empty pop bottles. My grandmother threw them all down the steps and broke every one of them. And on top of that, she got the police to come and arrest this woman for assault charges. My sister had to testify at the trial, but I was deemed too young (I don’t remember the outcome of the trial.)
My grandmother was a bad ass! There was never a time I didn’t feel safe in her house, or out with her. She had my Pap train her German Shepherds to protect her grandchildren, even to the point that if Pap ever rough-housed with us, the dogs would bite him.
And she remained a bad ass to the end. She had throat cancer, and had problems eating after the treatment, and she ended up withering away. It was very sad to be around. Such a vibrant woman full of life and love, and then she couldn’t maintain her weight, then she couldn’t walk, then she was bedridden.
She lapsed into a coma on 02/12/2002 and was brought to the hospital. She would come in and out of the coma while in the hospital. My one brother and his wife, who live in New York City, were in the US Virgin Islands, and we couldn’t contact him for a while. Once we did, he wasn’t able to make it into town until Sunday, 02/17/2002.
We pulled the plug on Friday, 02/15/2002. She held on. She had been in a coma since the day after she was brought into the hospital. My brother showed up on Sunday, she came out of the coma, said hi to him, talked to him for a little while, kissed him, and then fell back asleep.
A nurse was cleaning her and changing the sheets. When she was done, she leaned in and said “Is there anything else you need Mary?” My grandmother opened her eyes and said “No, honey, I just need to die now.” My sister & I were shocked at first, but I realized she accepted this inevitability.
And she had said goodbye to all her family members, all her grandchildren. She held on and fought until she could kiss Jeff, the final one to show up. And then she quietly died after we’d all left the hospital Monday night. Oddly enough, the last thing on the television on Monday night when we left was an A&E Biography on Lizzie Borden, who was also from Fall River, MA, and who my great grandmother always said she had lived across the street from for a few years. Maybe my grandmother wanted to watch that just for the memories.
Interestingly, on the ride back from the movie theater after I snapped the ice scraper in half, I was in tears. A simple ice scraper breaking had brought me to tears. But as I thought of her, I actually smiled. And I know now that I don’t need the ice scraper to hold on to her memory. I have them all in my head. As long as I live, I am a part of my grandmother, and she is a part of me.
I like to think she knew that her ice scraper would last 19 years. It would be like her to make sure that I was taken care of even after she was gone.
And I still miss her terribly. But, in the end, I feel lucky, actually privileged, to have known her for almost 33 years.
Now, to most people, buying an ice scraper isn’t a big deal, but it hit me that I’ve never bought one because the one I broke was the only ice scraper I have ever owned. My grandmother bought it for me 19 years ago, when I first bought my ‘69 VW Beetle. It lasted through the ’67 Plymouth Valiant, ’86 Chevy Chevette, ’92 Diahatsu Charade (all 3 cylinders in that car), ’97 Suzuki Sidekick and now the ’03 Mazda Protégé5.
This made me a little sad, because it was probably one of the few things that I use regularly that reminds me of her. She died almost 5 years ago on 02/19/2002, and a week doesn’t go by without me thinking about her. She was a very unique and strong willed woman who shaped me in so many ways.
My grandmother was born in Fall River, MA in 1924. Her parents had emigrated from Newcastle, England, and her father was wealthy. She used to show me pictures of their summer home on Martha’s Vineyard. I remember one specifically where she was standing on the wraparound porch in a cute little hat. She used to speak to me reverentially about her father.
When she was 18, she got pregnant to an army soldier, Henry McAvoy, who was deployed to Europe before she had time to marry him. Her father was angry with her, and shipped her off to New York City after my mother was born as he was embarrassed by the whole episode. From what I can gather, my great-grandmother sided with her daughter, and this led to problems that culminated in their divorce, and my great-grandfather taking all the money with him to his new, younger wife. I think my grandmother took the burden of her actions with her for the rest of her life.
She did marry the man who got her pregnant and moved with him to his hometown of Pittsburgh, PA. She raised my mother and had some medical problems and did not delivery any more live babies, even though it seems she was pregnant on a few other occasions. Therefore, my mother is an only child, who had six children.
She was a wonderful grandmother: there has never been a moment in my life where I ever doubted that she loved me. She was the first person I told I was gay. Actually, when I was 17 I told her I was bisexual, and her response was “I don’t believe in bisexuals – they are just greedy. Pick which one you are and be that!” To this day, I still don’t truly believe men can be true bisexuals. I have never met one myself. Many of us start out saying that as a segue into being homosexual. Like it is easier for heteros to accept us if they think we are like them in some ways. Grandma wouldn’t let me get away with it, and I didn’t.
(As an aside, I seem to have a belief that women can be bisexual much more than men. I don’t know why, but the ones I’ve met seem to be more fluid in their sexuality. Or maybe I’ve just never met a truly bisexual man.)
My grandmother fought for me and all of her other grandchildren. Once, my sister & I did something to a neighbor’s pool, I don’t even know what it was, when I was like 4 or 5 years old. I think she accused us of throwing rocks onto the pool cover. We were both young, so I can’t imagine we were throwing boulders or anything heavy to damage it, but the woman who lived there saw us do something (I personally think we were racing and I threw my gum out, but I can’t remember the truth now 32 years later.) Well, she ran after us, caught us (she was a former babysitter of ours so she knew us and we stopped running) and then proceeded to slap me & my sister. I remember standing in the middle of the street crying my eyes out.
My grandmother learned of this, marched right down to her house, yelled at her to come out, and when she didn’t come out, she trashed this woman’s porch. If that woman thought a pebble or some gum on her pool tarp was bad, she probably didn’t like a patio furniture set on thrown on top of it. There used to be a Regent Pop bottling plant nearby, so everyone always saved their Regent Pop bottles and the plant would give you a discounted rate to fill them up. This woman had about 5 cases of empty pop bottles. My grandmother threw them all down the steps and broke every one of them. And on top of that, she got the police to come and arrest this woman for assault charges. My sister had to testify at the trial, but I was deemed too young (I don’t remember the outcome of the trial.)
My grandmother was a bad ass! There was never a time I didn’t feel safe in her house, or out with her. She had my Pap train her German Shepherds to protect her grandchildren, even to the point that if Pap ever rough-housed with us, the dogs would bite him.
And she remained a bad ass to the end. She had throat cancer, and had problems eating after the treatment, and she ended up withering away. It was very sad to be around. Such a vibrant woman full of life and love, and then she couldn’t maintain her weight, then she couldn’t walk, then she was bedridden.
She lapsed into a coma on 02/12/2002 and was brought to the hospital. She would come in and out of the coma while in the hospital. My one brother and his wife, who live in New York City, were in the US Virgin Islands, and we couldn’t contact him for a while. Once we did, he wasn’t able to make it into town until Sunday, 02/17/2002.
We pulled the plug on Friday, 02/15/2002. She held on. She had been in a coma since the day after she was brought into the hospital. My brother showed up on Sunday, she came out of the coma, said hi to him, talked to him for a little while, kissed him, and then fell back asleep.
A nurse was cleaning her and changing the sheets. When she was done, she leaned in and said “Is there anything else you need Mary?” My grandmother opened her eyes and said “No, honey, I just need to die now.” My sister & I were shocked at first, but I realized she accepted this inevitability.
And she had said goodbye to all her family members, all her grandchildren. She held on and fought until she could kiss Jeff, the final one to show up. And then she quietly died after we’d all left the hospital Monday night. Oddly enough, the last thing on the television on Monday night when we left was an A&E Biography on Lizzie Borden, who was also from Fall River, MA, and who my great grandmother always said she had lived across the street from for a few years. Maybe my grandmother wanted to watch that just for the memories.
Interestingly, on the ride back from the movie theater after I snapped the ice scraper in half, I was in tears. A simple ice scraper breaking had brought me to tears. But as I thought of her, I actually smiled. And I know now that I don’t need the ice scraper to hold on to her memory. I have them all in my head. As long as I live, I am a part of my grandmother, and she is a part of me.
I like to think she knew that her ice scraper would last 19 years. It would be like her to make sure that I was taken care of even after she was gone.
And I still miss her terribly. But, in the end, I feel lucky, actually privileged, to have known her for almost 33 years.
posted by Mike at 1:54 PM
1 Comments:
what a awesome heart felt post! very good job!
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