Grandmas are Angels in Training

I had the wonderfully good fortune of living close to one of my grandmothers, and being her first grandkid. Which, of course, made me the favorite. My birth made her a grandma, so my status as #1 stands to reason. There are others who may have felt similarly. She actually had this amazing quality of making all feel like they were her favorite. She loved, and was loved by, all.

I was her only grandchild . . . for 11 months.

She was from Samoa (think Moana's grandmother only sweeter, wiser and more loving), and was the center of our family. She certainly felt like the center of my childhood universe. My most endearing memories of childhood include my angel grandmother.

My grandma was also the center of our family's traditions. We had some great traditions, usually around food, and the family (six uncles!) gathered frequently. One tradition was opening presents at midnight on Christmas. The adults would be doing their thing, usually playing cards and roaring with laughter, and we kids played an album over and over that featured, "¿Dónde Está Santa Claus?" At about 10 minutes to midnight, everyone would sort of wind up what they were doing and prepare for the clock to strike 12. At the stroke of midnight, all would gather and my grandfather would say a prayer, and then someone would play Santa and start to disseminate the avalanche of presents. What great memories!

With my brother Neil, fresh from the oven

When she passed, (way too early), that tradition withered and soon faded away, Thanksgiving dinner had fewer trimmings, and our family, while still wonderful, became a little less tight. Such is the influence of grandma.

Misty Water Colored Memories... Just a Few!

• My grandma used to whistle a distinctive 8-note tune while walking around the living room, usually holding one of my younger baby cousins.
• Her closet smelled like mothballs. Getting a whiff of a mothball today puts me right back at 835 Spruce Street, which beats the pants off the 100-Acre Wood.
• When she returned from overseas with my grandpa, who was in the Navy, I was little more than a toddler, but that is my earliest memory of joy. I couldn't give or get enough kisses! My earliest memory of sorrow preceded that when she left; I think I cried for days.
• Her smell. I can clearly remember what she smelled like when we hugged or I laid down with my head on her lap.
• She loved professional wrestling, and even took me to see an event. (Has YOUR grandma done that for you?) The highlight of the night was watching Mil Mascaras, after getting thrown out of the ring, come back and beat Mr. Fuji.
• She pre-chewed abalone for me when I was small. That meat is tough!
• Her laughing her head off when she sent my Uncle Willie to the store for cooking oil, and he returned with Karo corn syrup.  
• Her awesome potato salad had lots of little shrimp in it. (My mom's too!) I can't hardly stomach store-bought potato salad today.
• Whenever I sat next to her, she scratched my back. That felt good, sure, but more than that, it felt comforting.
• When an uncle had a baby in Samoa, she went and brought the baby back for another uncle and his wife, who couldn't have children, to adopt. My uncle made good on a promise to his brother to give him his first-born child to raise. Fa'a Samoa. 
• One evening when I was very small, we were eating crabs that my dad, uncles and grandpa had caught- nothing tastes better than fresh crab! But those legs and claws were tough and the process hurt my tiny little fingers. As I was working with difficulty to get one cracked open and the meat out, my grandma slid over a plate with a big pile of crab meat she had extracted. I remember thinking that was nicest thing anyone had ever done for me.
• She would put cushions on the floor against the couch when I slept over, in case I rolled off during the night, and would have hot chocolate for me in the morning on the coffee table. We then would watch Saturday morning cartoons with Porky Pig, Elmer Fudd, Foghorn Leghorn, Sylvester & Tweety, Tom & Jerry, etc. I remember one time my Uncle Bucky, a tough Seabee, watched with us and being surprised how hard he belly-laughed at Bugs and Daffy and all the others.
• Her biggest threat when wanting us to behave was to lock us in the bathroom. I knew that meant she had reached her limit and it was time to behave, but I also knew that bathrooms were locked from the inside. Besides, we knew it was an empty threat!

With her namesake, my sister Lisa

I remember as a small child, when my mother was providing "corrective instruction" to me, I asked her, "Why can't you be more like Grandma?" I don't think I ever saw my mom laugh so hard.

And wouldn't you know it, my mom has become my grandma!

And so has my wife!

Grandmas certainly are angels in training. Mine just earned her wings earlier than most.