I opened “Woman Unlimited” with a story about my father’s mother. With Mother’s Day coming up one can’t help but think of all the strong matriarchal women who have influenced our lives.
My Grandma Slade is a mystery to me. I have, like, short film clips of memory about her. My Grandmother was adopted when she was a young girl. Her siblings were sent to different homes. She did not find her siblings until later in life. I do not believe she ever met her real mother. The Depression created such hardship for families.
I remember being in her old house as a young girl. In the back yard was a very cool garage with hidden panels. I remember the smell- that musty, wonderful smell that only old garages and four square homes can have.She drove a VW bug- I know where I got my bug for VW from!
I am 5 years old, sitting on her lap, crying my heart out because I was teased at school about looking like an (native) Indian. She hugged me and told me to tell them my grandmother was an Indian princess. I was still telling people about her royalty in College! They believed me of course. I like to think my dark looks came from her.
I have memories of going to cut her grass in Ashton, Ontario. I would cut the grass with a hand mower. After I was finished, she would walk me down to the Ashton General store (which is still there today) to get a chocolate bar. It was sticky hot and the flies dived bombed us but I did not care- I was with my grandma and I was going to have chocolate!
I loved her house because it was so cool! Dirt for a basement; “diner” booth in the kitchen…. We once watched lightning lick between the kitchen faucet and the stove during one nasty storm! My brother and I would sit in the booth while my parents sat in the dining room. I would move the peas off my plate to my brother’s plate when no one was looking. I watched with fascination as my youngest aunt would iron her long, very purple hair in the kitchen. It was the 60’s after all.
My grandparents got divorced. I have no memory of this other than it just seemed like one Christmas – my cousins and I all got the same dresses- grandpa and grandma being there together- laughing and making it all a wonderful time. Then somehow, they were not together anymore. My grandpa moved to the USA. He was casualty of the defunct Arrow project. My grandma was alone again.
I knew my grandma was very sad. As a child I could feel her sadness. She died when I was 10- the same day as my Nana Clark, 5 years apart. Both women had been adopted. Goosebumps-right, you have goosebumps- I do!
As a mother, about to turn 50, I think of how hard her life must have been. I have tried to find out more about her but no one can tell me. I think it is very sad that we can not have more of who she was in our lives. Happy Mother’s day Grandma Slade! Let your children know who you are.
Love and All Good Things,
The Peaceful Matriarch
