Gladly, I Remember You

This looks like a new photo but it’s over 60 years old, preserved on a Krodachrome slide. These are my grandparents, Harold and Anne Macdonald (with my older brother, my sister and I – our beloved younger brother not yet born).

He taught me how to give my smile generously and gave me one dollar for every “A” I received on my report card. Always in good spirits, he taught me to play cards, drink Moxie and appreciate fine furniture (his trade). He was a mild raconteur and loving grandfather who instilled his Scottish heritage upon us.

She gave me soap-on-a-rope, cologne and handkerchiefs for birthdays. She handknit sweaters for all of us and made my sister and I dresses and coats (imagine having to make two of everything). In high school she even made me a colorful 70’s-inspired belt of ribbons.

Together, they gave us books including Anne of Green Gables which they purchased on Prince Edward Island where Anne Shirley “lived”. They supplied us with a set of encyclopedias and Reader’s Digest condensed books by the dozens.

They also gave me my first pieces of jewelry – a petite gold locket to wear on holidays, a turquoise ring brought back from Oklahoma and later, a charm bracelet begun with teenage-type charms with more given on every subsequent birthday.

I slept in their gabled third floor bedroom where the floors creaked and the closet smelled of mothballs. They tucked us in with crisp white sheets I still search for now and wool blankets that were warm and scratchy. For breakfast, she made orange sugar biscuits and let us drink tea. I remember the winter mornings I sat wiggling on a stack of Boston phone directories looking at the snow on the trees outside and chatting with my grandfather. On the table was their black rotary phone which jangled with voices from aunts and uncles. Our overnight visits were a big deal that had to be shared.

They visited us every Sunday afternoon at 4 o’clock sharp, making the car trip out of the city. Never coming empty-handed, there were loaves of fresh bread, dough for frying, homemade pizza, or her perfect apple pie with an odd coarse sugar sprinkled on top. Also brought were half-formed dresses with sharp pins that we had to try on for size or the sleeve of handknit sweater that had to be measured against a brother’s arm. My grandmother never got cross when we couldn’t stand still as the pins kept us in place most of the time.

Near the end of their lives, they started a new tradition of waving at my car from the front door until I was out of sight. It almost hurt to look back over my shoulder and a stinging mist would veil my eyes.

The last time I saw them together was during a winter night visit. I had brought along my husband and one year old baby. She told me that my daughter needed a warmer undershirt under her little dress and he loved the dessert I made. I had no idea this would be the last time I would see them together. But that night she gave me a final handmade gift – small pink and white baby shoes with her special mother-of-pearl buttons. She sewed them by hand and they were wrapped in thin pink tissue paper. It occurs to me that this was such a fitting last present – baby shoes for their first great grandchild – a gift to jumpstart a new life.

He lived a time after her and I wrote about visiting him alone under “Gladly Did He Live” on this blog. You can search it out with that phrase above. Those visits with him were precious and poignant as I was acutely aware that time was winding down.

These lovely people were by no means rich but they were true grandparents and gave whatever they could. Most importantly, they gave time and love. I still feel her hand wrapped around mine as we walked to the square for groceries on those snowy Christmastime mornings. His laugh continues to resonate in my soul…he was such a good man and sweet gentleman. And even now that many, many moons have come and gone, I can still say how gladly do I live because of them…