Not all of the special women in my life are alive.
Both of my Grandmothers are gone but in my memory, they are still alive as ever.
If I think about them just right, I even can get a whiff of that lavender perfume the one
wore.
My Mom is a Virginia gal, hailing from a little sylvan spot called Middleburg. My
Dad is from Bristol Borough in Pennsylvania. That meant I got to do some road
time to visit my Grandmother on my maternal side and could take my bicycle to visit my
Grandmother on my paternal side.
Both Grandmothers were, and are, special to me.
I think my Grandmother in Virginia regretted she was as far away from us as she was.
That did not stop her from showing her love on a regular basis though.
My Grandmother, Fanny Stewart, . or as I used to differentiate her as a child, my
Grandmom in Virginia, would send us at least one package a month from down in Virginia.
It wasn't a little package. It would be a treasure chest.
A huge cardboard box, heavily wrapped with tape to keep it together. It would take a
half hour just to get to its insides. It was well worth the work. You never
knew what Grandmom in Virginia was sending north.
I called them the CARE packages.
Back then, in the early to mid-50s, they used to show pictures of workers, standing in the
midst of wide-eyed, hungry-looking, black children. They would be holding a box just
above them. Stenciled on the box, in big block letters was CARE. I do not even
remember what those initials stood for, or stand for, any more but the bottom line I will
never forget. You receive a CARE package, you receive food and the necessities of
life.
Grandmom in Virginia's CARE packages were much the same. Sometimes there would be a
big multi-level cake in there. It would be so carefully wrapped that normally, not a crumb
would be out of place from its journey by UPS from Virginia to Pennsylvania.
If grandmom sent a cake, you can bet, tucked in that box would be at least a dozen
cupcakes, with more icing than any cupcake deserved, specified for her grandson.
I loved my CARE packages. And I loved my Grandmom.
One time the big box arrived and with surgeon-like care we opened it. Inside
was an Old Virginia Ham. At first glance, it looked moldy and crusty. But let
me tell you, I can still taste that ham right now as I talk about it. Best ham I ever had
in my life.
Dad sliced it down. The slices were rinsed off in cold water. Some of the outside
rind was peeled away. Then it was boiled for just a bit before it came to its
final resting place in a bath of aromatic and succulent pan gravy. Life was good
when a CARE package arrived. And yes, I loved my Grandmom.
The CARE packages did not always contain food. Some times it would be a big stack of
books. Now that was another of my favorite packages. I could curl away in my
room for days, going through a reading binge that barely included sleep time as I let my
mind wander through the new vistas that my Grandmom's CARE package books opened. One
time the books came from what was called a classic series, and included such masterpieces
as Black Beauty, Tom Sawyer, Little Women, Treasure Island, and Robin Hood.
That made for a great week of reading! Another CARE package include a series
of autobiographies and I made my first contact with George Washington Carver and Eli
Whitney. I loved those CARE packages and I know I am getting repetitive, I loved my
Grandmom.
There were CARE packages that marked the passage of most of my life. I was blessed
to have my Grandmom with me still when I went to college. And yes, you guessed it,
there still were CARE packages. This time little cans of preserved meat, small
glasses of cheese. Drink mixes, crackers, all the things a hungry student needed to make
it through his studies. Loved those CARE packages but really loved my Grandmom most
of all.
By the time I got out of college, my grandmother was looking towards retirement. She
had worked in service all of her life,. and put all three of her children through college.
It was time for her to rest.
When she retired she spent half the year living up North with my family and the other half
back at her Virginia home. This was better than a CARE package. I loved having
this much time with my Grandmom.
She was there when I got my job at the newspaper. She was so proud of her grandson
going out in the world.
After my first six months at the newspaper, I was awarded a column. My picture went
out with the column every Sunday at first, and then it grew to be a
three-time-a-week column. My Grandmom, who barely hit the five-foot mark, swelled
with pride each time the paper arrived. She would let anyone know that smiling face
with the huge afro in the paper was her grandson. "But I wish he would cut his
hair," she would add with a smile.
We spent a lot of years and a lot of time together, but there really is never enough time
to spend with someone you love. Even all of the summers I spent in Virginia and the
latter years of her life that she almost exclusively spent with my parents and I were not
enough together time for me and my Grandmom.
I used to jokingly call the big boxes she sent the family and myself CARE packages but
they really were CARING packages. When she could not be close to us, she would send
everything and anything she could think of just to make sure we really knew how much she
cared about us. She sent by mail the love she wished she could give to us in person.
It is a wonder that the postage was not astronomical to send a package containing that
much love.
I was at the paper one morning when I received a frantic call.
They had gone into Grandmom's room to check on her and she did not respond.
I raced the mile from work to home, setting new speed records along the way, burst into
the house, ran up to her room, but it only took me a second to realize Grandmom had gone
home.
Strange, that very morning I had gone through my normal routine. The bathroom
was adjacent to her room and daily, I would finish preparing for work and have my
morning chat with Grandmom, between mouthfuls of toothpaste. She had been quiet that
morning. I did not disturb her. I figured she just was sleeping a little later.
She did that on occasion.
She probably was gone before I left for work. There was no question she had gone
when I returned. I closed her eyes and said goodbye to that little women who brought
so much love to my life with her presence and her packages.
It took a while for the house to get back to normal. That also was the year that I
married, now just about 25 years ago. I did not forget about Grandmom but the
hustle and bustle of activity and setting up my own household took some of the sting of
her absence away.
My mom was dealing with packing up and taking inventory of the things my Grandmom had with
her at the house.
She called one day and said she had discovered on of Grandmom's boxes she thought I might
like to see and have.
When I stopped by the house, Mom presented me with a fairly sizeable box. On the
outside, in my Grandmom's distinct scrawl, were the words "Do Not Disturb."
I felt like a little kid again, when the big box arrived at the front door. I
opened the flaps carefully.
And as I looked inside, I could not keep the tears from falling. It was filled with
newspaper clippings. All carefully cut out and trimmed. My grandmom had kept a box
containing every single article and column I had written during her life time.
Big stories, little stories and all the sizes in-between. All neatly
clipped out, some with a small comment written on their reverse to remind her of the
occasion. She had saved everything I had done as a professional writer.
It was my Grandmom's final CARE package to me and like all the other ones she had sent
over the years, this package was overflowing with caring. And again I had to
remember, how much I love my grandmom.
I still miss her but she gave me the biggest small CARE package in the world...herself!
