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Jun. 24th, 2008 11:01 pmOne of the most difficult things for me emotionally about becoming a parent is doing it without my own grandparents (my mother's parents) around. I was playing with Naomi today, and she was cooing at me, and foremost in my thoughts was how much my grandparents-especially my grandfather would have loved to see her. How he'd have bounced her on his knee, and sung songs about "Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater" and he'd teach her the Impty Dimpty song (which all of us can sing.) He'd make rabbits out of a handkerchief or a napkin, and he'd hold out his hand, cupping the rabbit and tell her to pet it. And she would giggle gleefully as it jumped away from her and into his other hand. We all did. He would tell her stories...stories about the Russian Army and how he deserted the army and the friendly moose that helped him. (There's a grain of truth to the deserting the army-one of my great grandfathers or great great grandfathers really did desert the Czar's army. )
He'd tell the story of how he came to the US, I hope. My grandfather came to the US when he was about six. The story of his journey was quite colorful...they left Russia in 1910 and sailed to the US via Rotterdam. They traveled second class-it was very important to my great grandfather that they not travel in steerage. Grandpa was charming, and the only member of his family not to get ill. He ate bananas for the first time on the ship and would share them with the steerage passengers. The sailors would let him climb the ropes and his grandmother (my great-great-grandmother) would watch, certain that he'd fall to his death. They arrived in the US and my Auntie Martha (Grandpa's older sister) had measles or something and they ended up temporarily quarantined at Ellis Island. When she was well the four of them-Martha, my grandfather, my great grandmother and my great-great-grandmother had to find their way to Springfield, Massachusetts, but of course they spoke no English.
My grandmother would teach her all sorts of things-how to set a formal table, how to stash a tissue in your sleeve or in your bra (funny story-at my grandmother's funeral, my mother gave one of the eulogies and wanted to mention the tissue stashing habit that my grandmother had. She didn't, however, want to mention my grandmothers underwear, and it will always stick out in my head the way she said that my grandmother always had a tissue stashed "up her sleeve, or elsewhere." The tissue habit I think started when Grandma couldn't handle the laundry on her own enough to wash, dry and iron handkerchiefs.) Grandma would make sure that Naomi knew how to sit like a lady, that her table manners were acceptable and how to arrange flowers and write a gracious thank you note. (I'm amazed that my cousins with whom I share this grandmother didn't learn this art.) Grandma would speak Yiddish when she didn't want Naomi to know what was going on and Naomi would learn to let Grandma and Grandpa believe that she didn't know what they were saying. She would learn to play Scrabble sitting in Grandma's lap. Grandma would slip her pennies when she lost her first tooth.
I miss my grandparents. I was very close to them. My grandmother died eight years ago, my grandfather died twelve years ago. I kind of feel like I never turned into a grown up while they were alive, and that makes me kind of sad. But it makes me even sadder to know that they'll never know Naomi.
He'd tell the story of how he came to the US, I hope. My grandfather came to the US when he was about six. The story of his journey was quite colorful...they left Russia in 1910 and sailed to the US via Rotterdam. They traveled second class-it was very important to my great grandfather that they not travel in steerage. Grandpa was charming, and the only member of his family not to get ill. He ate bananas for the first time on the ship and would share them with the steerage passengers. The sailors would let him climb the ropes and his grandmother (my great-great-grandmother) would watch, certain that he'd fall to his death. They arrived in the US and my Auntie Martha (Grandpa's older sister) had measles or something and they ended up temporarily quarantined at Ellis Island. When she was well the four of them-Martha, my grandfather, my great grandmother and my great-great-grandmother had to find their way to Springfield, Massachusetts, but of course they spoke no English.
My grandmother would teach her all sorts of things-how to set a formal table, how to stash a tissue in your sleeve or in your bra (funny story-at my grandmother's funeral, my mother gave one of the eulogies and wanted to mention the tissue stashing habit that my grandmother had. She didn't, however, want to mention my grandmothers underwear, and it will always stick out in my head the way she said that my grandmother always had a tissue stashed "up her sleeve, or elsewhere." The tissue habit I think started when Grandma couldn't handle the laundry on her own enough to wash, dry and iron handkerchiefs.) Grandma would make sure that Naomi knew how to sit like a lady, that her table manners were acceptable and how to arrange flowers and write a gracious thank you note. (I'm amazed that my cousins with whom I share this grandmother didn't learn this art.) Grandma would speak Yiddish when she didn't want Naomi to know what was going on and Naomi would learn to let Grandma and Grandpa believe that she didn't know what they were saying. She would learn to play Scrabble sitting in Grandma's lap. Grandma would slip her pennies when she lost her first tooth.
I miss my grandparents. I was very close to them. My grandmother died eight years ago, my grandfather died twelve years ago. I kind of feel like I never turned into a grown up while they were alive, and that makes me kind of sad. But it makes me even sadder to know that they'll never know Naomi.
