My grandmother was an interesting person in general but, what truly makes her interesting is her story. My apologies, it gets kinda long but, I hope it’s worth the read.
My grandma was born to a Jewish family in Poland, just after the first world war. Her family was definitely not rich but, it was large. She, herself was the baby of the family and I never knew exactly how many siblings she had but, I remember at least four. She was orphaned young. At five years of age, her grown sister sent for her to live with her family, in Canada.
Rather than treating my grandma like family though, her sister told her that she must now serve her family as a maid, to “work off” her debt for the cost of bringing her to Canada. And, of course, room and board for a little cot in the corner of her cousin’s bedroom and second rate food, leftovers, hand-me-downs and the derision of her cousins. Starting at such a young age and during the Great Depression, she learned how to cook, clean, do laundry, make and repair clothing, and even how to balance and stick to a budget but, she stayed there only until she could find herself a job and a home. She became a seamstress at Tip Top Tailors (back when they were still housed in a single building) and left, not speaking to that sister for almost two decades.
She was an uncommon woman for the late thirties; she was independent. She had a good job and a place of her own. She was very pretty, petite with big, brown eyes and thick, dark brown, wavy hair. She attracted her fair share of young men but, she had a sharp tongue and a quick wit. She wasted no time with men who couldn’t hold their own in a “discussion” and was told most of her life that she could’ve made ‘as good a lawyer, as any man’. My grandfather was a kind man, with a sweet, soft heart and no head for business. He was entirely devoted to her. He needed her.
When she married, she dove into being a housewife, priding herself in the home they had saved to buy. She did what she could with what she had. She was a hoarder before people knew what hoarders were. She would walk an extra three miles because “No Frills has paper towels for 30% off and A&P won’t honour the ice cream coupons”. When we visited she’d send us home with three twelve packs of toilet paper because they were $1 off and she bought six.
She was your typical Jewish grandma in many ways. She truly believed that you couldn’t possibly be happy unless you were well fed. I loved her latkes though, I later learned that made the right way, they’re even better. Her chicken soup was the best on the planet; always ready to cure whatever ails you. She made the most amazing kosher dill pickles you’ve ever had! She would go down to the cellar to put up the new batch and would return with a jar that “she must have missed, from maybe five years ago”. Seriously, there was never a better pickle, ever. She would also pickle all the green cherry tomatoes left on the vine when the growing season was over. Sometimes she’d trade her pickles for other things from the neighbours; apples for pie, homemade bread, fresh carrots from another garden. She could be very friendly but was never demonstrative, not even with her children. That changed with her grandchildren. While her sons could sometimes do no right, her grandchildren could do no wrong.
When my father was about five years old, his older brother went down to the U.S. to become a Marine. My grandmother worried so much. When she heard the news that he’d died, she was devastated. They told her that he was killed when, “while he was cleaning his gun, it went off, accidentally. (For those who didn’t know, apparently “died while cleaning his gun” is military for suicide. My grandfather never told her that but, he did tell my father years later.) There’s a theory I’ve heard (I think from my dad’s wife but, maybe it was my mom) about why my uncle did it, and why he joined the U. S. Marines instead of the Canadian military but, that’s another story.
She doted on her grandchildren. Only with us was she truly affectionate. She was a judgmental woman by nature, us included but, she would still try to spoil us at every opportunity. Food was what she knew best so that’s what she did. Let’s face it, our culture’s entire social structure is designed around eating and sharing food. I’m not a great hostess and my house is tiny but, sometimes I still get the urge to host my friends and family. “I learned to express my love through food so, let me feed you, dammit!”
My grandmother lost two of her grandchildren. Her second child (my dad) had a son who was born with internal hemorrhaging in the brain. He lived only a few short weeks. I was born a year and a half later, my cousins and two sisters followed. When I had just turned fifteen, we lost my baby sister, at the age of eight, to brain stem glioma. From the first physical sign of something wrong till the day she died, was less than two years. According to the doctor, her deterioration was mercifully quick. By then, my grandmother had become very angry and bitter. Everything was all about her and how she’d suffered. She treated her grandchildren well enough but, she would not accept my step-brothers, my half-sister, or their mom as members of her family. She never forgot being wronged, never forgave, and never stopped nagging my dad and uncle. My father stopped talking to her for awhile, when she had the nerve to berate him for being so thoughtless as to overlook how hard losing his daughter had been on her. My aunt couldn’t stand her and my poor, sweet, agreeable uncle (the only one who took after my grandpa) was stuck in the middle. I believe she sent my grandfather to an early grave. She followed him, three years later.
Having grown up during the depression, she believed in frugality and practicality. There was no money for frivolities and spending efficiently was second nature, as was saving. After she died, we learned that she had been investing money for years and had stocks, bonds and insurance policies stashed all over the house. Her house was paid for, free and clear. The money that came from her total estate, which was shared between her two children and her eight grandchildren, totalled over a million CAD.
I wonder if she knew just how much she had. It’s so sad to say but, I don’t think she felt rich (by any meaning of the word) a single day in her life.