From your words and those of your Mother, it sounds like your Grandmother was full of wisdom and that she knew how to work hard with a smile. If I had been lucky enough to live near her as a kid, she would’ve been the person I’d have come to when I needed the truth and some support from a kind and knowing heart. Lucky, lucky Smiths!
My grandma (Ethel) was living on Kwajalein when I was a boy. Every few months she sent a box of comic books that they used to teach the islanders English along with a personal note. This was my introduction to literature. In summer, she would return and we would spend June to early September in an old Victorian house in Cape May Point. When I was 12, my mother informed me that my father was not actually my father so that meant that grandma was not really my grandma but that didn't stop her from me being her favorite. Grandma traveled the world, didn't dress like or smell like the other grandmas. We would sit on the porch in summer and watch the storms come across the Delaware Bay or she would suggest a book and we would read silently. She was a kind, gentle and generous soul. Grandma was in a minor car accident and I wanted to come visit but when I called, she said to stay with my family. Two days later an aneurysm took her. I still regret not going to see her, to tell her how much I cherished, loved, adored, admired and respected her and to hug her one last time. Strange though that although there is not blood connection, I feel like she game me a part of her spirit. Her jewelry box sits on my desk here in Kyiv, it's all I have left of her materially but her spirit still fills me. I can still smell her unique scent within the old wood from Asia. On a personal note, your grandmother and mine both lived in the place of woolgatherers. Memory eternal...
Hi Jesse! I started listening to you moms band when I was 18; I am 66 now. I was crazy about her music and pretty consumed by her. My cousins lived in Glassboro and during one visit there in the 1980s I came from North Jersey for a visit and I looked up the family in the phone book. You can imagine all of the Smiths! Luckily, as a true fan, I had read enough of Mom’s poetry to know that her Dads name was Grant. At my cousins urging, I bravely called to number in Mantua. Your grandmother answered I identified myself as a fan of Patti’s and she was so friendly and kind, telling me about the band being on tour in Europe. I was so nervous o can’t remember the details beyond how open and warm she was to me. I know it could be viewed as intrusive but she welcomed me. Just wanted you and your mom to know.
I love this post! Thank you so much :-) I have been remembering and wanting to find more about my grandparents as I got older. Thank you so much for also linking to your post from last year again! Thank you for prompting us to think of our own grandparents and also generations further back!
My favourites of the photos are the one of her with you and the smaller black and white one you posted as the last photo at the end of the post. Happy belated birthday to your Grandma Beverly!
Both my grandfathers are more of a distant memory as they both died significantly earlier, especially my maternal granddad - he died suddenly while we were on a holiday together and I was 3 or 4 years old (and could not understand what was going on of course!) My paternal grandfather was a very keen hobby gardener and we often spent time outside with him as children, but he was a really generally quiet person so I don't remember very much. My sister is a few years older and I think she remembers some stories he told her.
The grandparent I remember most about is my maternal grandmother. I think she was the Oma I was closest to despite living further away from us (in German the word for granny or nana is Oma).
I have some black and white photos of her younger years somewhere but I think on an old laptop that is nonfunctional.... Maybe I can dig it out somehow :-)
She had quite a hard life but was always seeing the humorous little things and could be quite outspoken and critical in a witty way. She was interested in the world even though she did not get to see much of it at all (I think the first time she got to go abroad and on a plane was when my Mum's youngest sister took her on a trip to TEneriffe when she was in her early or mid 70s or so!) She also did not have much of an education as she grew up in a relatively poor family in a rural catholic area but she had a real interest in books, music, history and art.
She lived the longest of all my four grandparents or actually rather I got to spend most time with her (she was younger than my paternal Oma and died later on, when she was 88 years old and I was 30 (wow, time is indeed very very elastic - I had to edit this as I had to recalculate as it didn't seem right.. I wrote I was 20 first!!). Her name was Maria Bosser and her maiden name was Gmehling. She was born 29.1.1927. Her birthday is the day after mine which I loved - and it also makes me remember her around that time as well every year :-) She lived through the Nazi and war years as a child and teenager and then the post war years as a young woman. She grew up in a very rural area and apparently always knew that she wanted to have six (!) children, best three boys and three girls - and she ended up having six children.. three boys and three girls.... (I don't know how much of that story is absolutely 100% true but my Mum maintains that what Oma always said (my mother is the oldest and did a lot of looking after her younger siblings and helping a lot in the household and the boys had to help on the farm). She only had one sibling herself, a sister who died in childhood, probably of some infectious disease.
She got to know my granddad when they both played small roles in some amateur theatre piece in their town - I'm not sure if my mother might know what the piece was - this prompts me to find out more when I call her next! He was two years younger than her and died really quite early and suddenly and she must have been incredibly strong to deal with that.
As kids my sister and me spent a lot of time visiting her on the weekends and in the school holidays for longer so we were quite close to her. We grew up in a village also but my Oma lived in an area that was a lot more rural and somehow it was always more magical there for us. The house was on top of a hill outside of the small market town where she lived and the cemetery was just op on the side of the hill on one side, the other side down the hill was the local windy river which my aunts and uncles used so swim in in the shallower parts when they were teenagers (we didn't, I think my Mum was worried it might not be safe because she's not a good swimmer herself). I remember things like having barbecues on summer evenings, tons of snow in winter (a lot more than where I grew up which is only about 45 minutes by car away), the distinctly different dialect, the walks around the local woods and by the river with Oma and her Christmas tree which was usually having ornaments in shades of purple. A highlight was going outside together late to see Glühwürmchen (litterally "little glowing worms" - fireflies) there in the evenings and at night in the summer which was the most fascinating thing ever as we did not have them in my area.
A lot later on in her 80s, she developed dementia (same as my paternal Oma) which was heartbreaking for everyone and must have been so hard for her.
I think what I want to remember most about her and try to take on from her witty and also comical side, and practical and quite non-nonsense way of looking at things and her optimism.
It was late when I read your loving birthday remembrance of your grandmother. Too late to pull thoughts together, I headed to bed thinking of my own grandmothers. - born on different continents, a few years apart, their adult lives given to the care of their families.
For my first two years I only knew my paternal grandmother - Assunta Cagliari Sfreddo. She was born in 1893 in either Rorai Grande or Mestre in northern Italy. and died in 1962 in Buenos Aires.
We moved back to NC in 1950 - a difficult decision for my dad, and I didn't see her again until
1956. That was the last time I saw her. From the little I remember, and family stories, she was
a strong willed woman. There's a story that in 1907 at age 14 while working in a textile mill in Pordenone, she and her sister organized a strike for better wages and working conditions - and
succeeded. I do remember my dad saying she loved opera and would wake up in the morning and sing all day. Always a poignant memory for him.
I was named after my maternal grandmother - Susan Elizabeth Morrison Combs. Born in 1888 in
Patrick Co. Va and died in Lincoln Co. NC 1979. She became the wife of a circuit preacher that
served parishes in the rural northern piedmont of NC. I have no knowledge of her early life, but
married to a preacher and caring for 9 children in the 20's and 30's would have consumed all her time. I regret not asking her to share stories. I was living in NYC and would get "home" a few times a year. One of those times, and one of my last memories of her coincided with her 90th birthday.
We were sitting on the couch - aunts and uncles still around the dining room table - discussing her.
Not cool, I thought. Then she turned, took my hand and looked at me with the softest eyes and
said "They don't think I can hear them". All I could think to do was give her a hug. She was a most kind and loving woman.
Jesse, thank you for sparking my memories with your own recollections. I know I went long, so I
i love this so much. my grandmother was my everything. i was 17 and she was 63 when she passed from this plane. but i'm 42 now and she's ever with me, esp in the mirror some days, she was rebellious and still kind, she was my favorite and still is. here's a substack i wrote dedicated to her (if you or anyone here wants to read a little more): https://ashgallagher.substack.com/p/aging-in-the-spirit-of-my-grandmother
Thinking of my Grandma Pearl today and so felt especially happy to read the beautiful tribute to yours. In 1927 at the age of eleven my grandmother traveled alone to New York from Newfoundland to live with parents she didn't remember who had to leave her behind in Canada when she was a baby (long story!). She was a multi-talented, hard-working, creative and courageous being with a pure heart who gave me and our family unconditional love. She passed in 2004 at age 88 and is greatly missed. Thanks for the great post!
Grama Kate taught me so much, cooking, sewing,being aware of your path in the forest. As the matriarch now, I appreciate stuff she shared. Her quote that gives strength often. “There is no spot where god is not. “
My grandmothers were a wonderful part of my childhood. Evelyn was quite a character she would buy things only to take them back later. Nothing was off limits including a mattress she had for a while. She lived through the depression and lost most of their things. My other Grandma, Maggie, was quite the inspiration. She had serious health issues, but always had prayers of gratitude. Lastly, one of them baked a lot and we always had homemade bread and cookies, and the other one would always slip me $5.00 as a child, that was really cool! I had the best of both worlds-- homemade cookies and money. lol.
My grandparents were born in the foothills of Appalachia in Central Alabama. They were born in 1904& 1906, and roads there weren’t paved there until they were in their 30s.
I learned so much about how things have changed in this country by tracking their family on the US Census. The census was designed to ask different questions in different years. I learned that many of their neighbors could not read, and that almost every family had lost at least one child.
From family stories I learned that my grandfather had to quit school when his own father died. He had a sixth grade education but he was a lifetime reader. When I was a kid he read Zane Gray novels and the National Enquirer and he loved the Dodgers. I don’t have many memories of my grandmother who died when I was 5, but my mom told me that her mother scolded her for talking baby talk to me because I was a “serious baby.”
My maternal grandmother, Daria, was born on the 15th March 1906 in Belarus. She died when she was 99. Her life was not easy after being uprooted from her home and sent to Germany as forced labour during WWII, eventually bringing her family, which included my mother, to Australia as a refugee. I know she quietly grieved for her sisters who remained in the USSR and never saw again. She was strong and resilient and was always a source of great comfort to me.
As I have said before, everyone I know who had the pleasure of meeting and knowing your grandmother always has such wonderful memories of their meetings. You do indeed look so like her.
I do not have any pics of my grandparents on either side of my family. Moving so many times in my life and ultimately moving to another country with one hold-all left little space for photographs.
I did write a Substack post about my grandparents but since I do not have the fondest memories of my mother's mother I will not share it out of respect for all the wonderful grandparents mentioned here:)
On the other hand, the scant memories I have of my other grandparents are all favorable. The most prevailing memory is our yearly visits to my father's parents. They had this giant grandfather clock in the living room and its loud tick-tock and chimes live on in my memory:) I believe my father obtained that clock later in life and had it in his home. There was no TV allowed throughout the day so all you heard was that clock making its presence very felt:)))
From your words and those of your Mother, it sounds like your Grandmother was full of wisdom and that she knew how to work hard with a smile. If I had been lucky enough to live near her as a kid, she would’ve been the person I’d have come to when I needed the truth and some support from a kind and knowing heart. Lucky, lucky Smiths!
My grandma (Ethel) was living on Kwajalein when I was a boy. Every few months she sent a box of comic books that they used to teach the islanders English along with a personal note. This was my introduction to literature. In summer, she would return and we would spend June to early September in an old Victorian house in Cape May Point. When I was 12, my mother informed me that my father was not actually my father so that meant that grandma was not really my grandma but that didn't stop her from me being her favorite. Grandma traveled the world, didn't dress like or smell like the other grandmas. We would sit on the porch in summer and watch the storms come across the Delaware Bay or she would suggest a book and we would read silently. She was a kind, gentle and generous soul. Grandma was in a minor car accident and I wanted to come visit but when I called, she said to stay with my family. Two days later an aneurysm took her. I still regret not going to see her, to tell her how much I cherished, loved, adored, admired and respected her and to hug her one last time. Strange though that although there is not blood connection, I feel like she game me a part of her spirit. Her jewelry box sits on my desk here in Kyiv, it's all I have left of her materially but her spirit still fills me. I can still smell her unique scent within the old wood from Asia. On a personal note, your grandmother and mine both lived in the place of woolgatherers. Memory eternal...
Hi Jesse! I started listening to you moms band when I was 18; I am 66 now. I was crazy about her music and pretty consumed by her. My cousins lived in Glassboro and during one visit there in the 1980s I came from North Jersey for a visit and I looked up the family in the phone book. You can imagine all of the Smiths! Luckily, as a true fan, I had read enough of Mom’s poetry to know that her Dads name was Grant. At my cousins urging, I bravely called to number in Mantua. Your grandmother answered I identified myself as a fan of Patti’s and she was so friendly and kind, telling me about the band being on tour in Europe. I was so nervous o can’t remember the details beyond how open and warm she was to me. I know it could be viewed as intrusive but she welcomed me. Just wanted you and your mom to know.
Thanks, Jesse, for this timely message on grandmothers and their importance in our lifetimes. love always your comrade
davpi3.14
I love this post! Thank you so much :-) I have been remembering and wanting to find more about my grandparents as I got older. Thank you so much for also linking to your post from last year again! Thank you for prompting us to think of our own grandparents and also generations further back!
My favourites of the photos are the one of her with you and the smaller black and white one you posted as the last photo at the end of the post. Happy belated birthday to your Grandma Beverly!
Both my grandfathers are more of a distant memory as they both died significantly earlier, especially my maternal granddad - he died suddenly while we were on a holiday together and I was 3 or 4 years old (and could not understand what was going on of course!) My paternal grandfather was a very keen hobby gardener and we often spent time outside with him as children, but he was a really generally quiet person so I don't remember very much. My sister is a few years older and I think she remembers some stories he told her.
The grandparent I remember most about is my maternal grandmother. I think she was the Oma I was closest to despite living further away from us (in German the word for granny or nana is Oma).
I have some black and white photos of her younger years somewhere but I think on an old laptop that is nonfunctional.... Maybe I can dig it out somehow :-)
She had quite a hard life but was always seeing the humorous little things and could be quite outspoken and critical in a witty way. She was interested in the world even though she did not get to see much of it at all (I think the first time she got to go abroad and on a plane was when my Mum's youngest sister took her on a trip to TEneriffe when she was in her early or mid 70s or so!) She also did not have much of an education as she grew up in a relatively poor family in a rural catholic area but she had a real interest in books, music, history and art.
She lived the longest of all my four grandparents or actually rather I got to spend most time with her (she was younger than my paternal Oma and died later on, when she was 88 years old and I was 30 (wow, time is indeed very very elastic - I had to edit this as I had to recalculate as it didn't seem right.. I wrote I was 20 first!!). Her name was Maria Bosser and her maiden name was Gmehling. She was born 29.1.1927. Her birthday is the day after mine which I loved - and it also makes me remember her around that time as well every year :-) She lived through the Nazi and war years as a child and teenager and then the post war years as a young woman. She grew up in a very rural area and apparently always knew that she wanted to have six (!) children, best three boys and three girls - and she ended up having six children.. three boys and three girls.... (I don't know how much of that story is absolutely 100% true but my Mum maintains that what Oma always said (my mother is the oldest and did a lot of looking after her younger siblings and helping a lot in the household and the boys had to help on the farm). She only had one sibling herself, a sister who died in childhood, probably of some infectious disease.
She got to know my granddad when they both played small roles in some amateur theatre piece in their town - I'm not sure if my mother might know what the piece was - this prompts me to find out more when I call her next! He was two years younger than her and died really quite early and suddenly and she must have been incredibly strong to deal with that.
As kids my sister and me spent a lot of time visiting her on the weekends and in the school holidays for longer so we were quite close to her. We grew up in a village also but my Oma lived in an area that was a lot more rural and somehow it was always more magical there for us. The house was on top of a hill outside of the small market town where she lived and the cemetery was just op on the side of the hill on one side, the other side down the hill was the local windy river which my aunts and uncles used so swim in in the shallower parts when they were teenagers (we didn't, I think my Mum was worried it might not be safe because she's not a good swimmer herself). I remember things like having barbecues on summer evenings, tons of snow in winter (a lot more than where I grew up which is only about 45 minutes by car away), the distinctly different dialect, the walks around the local woods and by the river with Oma and her Christmas tree which was usually having ornaments in shades of purple. A highlight was going outside together late to see Glühwürmchen (litterally "little glowing worms" - fireflies) there in the evenings and at night in the summer which was the most fascinating thing ever as we did not have them in my area.
A lot later on in her 80s, she developed dementia (same as my paternal Oma) which was heartbreaking for everyone and must have been so hard for her.
I think what I want to remember most about her and try to take on from her witty and also comical side, and practical and quite non-nonsense way of looking at things and her optimism.
It was late when I read your loving birthday remembrance of your grandmother. Too late to pull thoughts together, I headed to bed thinking of my own grandmothers. - born on different continents, a few years apart, their adult lives given to the care of their families.
For my first two years I only knew my paternal grandmother - Assunta Cagliari Sfreddo. She was born in 1893 in either Rorai Grande or Mestre in northern Italy. and died in 1962 in Buenos Aires.
We moved back to NC in 1950 - a difficult decision for my dad, and I didn't see her again until
1956. That was the last time I saw her. From the little I remember, and family stories, she was
a strong willed woman. There's a story that in 1907 at age 14 while working in a textile mill in Pordenone, she and her sister organized a strike for better wages and working conditions - and
succeeded. I do remember my dad saying she loved opera and would wake up in the morning and sing all day. Always a poignant memory for him.
I was named after my maternal grandmother - Susan Elizabeth Morrison Combs. Born in 1888 in
Patrick Co. Va and died in Lincoln Co. NC 1979. She became the wife of a circuit preacher that
served parishes in the rural northern piedmont of NC. I have no knowledge of her early life, but
married to a preacher and caring for 9 children in the 20's and 30's would have consumed all her time. I regret not asking her to share stories. I was living in NYC and would get "home" a few times a year. One of those times, and one of my last memories of her coincided with her 90th birthday.
We were sitting on the couch - aunts and uncles still around the dining room table - discussing her.
Not cool, I thought. Then she turned, took my hand and looked at me with the softest eyes and
said "They don't think I can hear them". All I could think to do was give her a hug. She was a most kind and loving woman.
Jesse, thank you for sparking my memories with your own recollections. I know I went long, so I
thank for allowing me the space to do so.
i love this so much. my grandmother was my everything. i was 17 and she was 63 when she passed from this plane. but i'm 42 now and she's ever with me, esp in the mirror some days, she was rebellious and still kind, she was my favorite and still is. here's a substack i wrote dedicated to her (if you or anyone here wants to read a little more): https://ashgallagher.substack.com/p/aging-in-the-spirit-of-my-grandmother
Oh I can see your face in her. I like her hair style from the fifty's
Thinking of my Grandma Pearl today and so felt especially happy to read the beautiful tribute to yours. In 1927 at the age of eleven my grandmother traveled alone to New York from Newfoundland to live with parents she didn't remember who had to leave her behind in Canada when she was a baby (long story!). She was a multi-talented, hard-working, creative and courageous being with a pure heart who gave me and our family unconditional love. She passed in 2004 at age 88 and is greatly missed. Thanks for the great post!
What cheekbones. Gorgeous.
Such a beautiful tribute. You resemble your grandmother so much.
It truly touches me the reverence and love that you have for past generations. I like your idea about the elasticity of time.
Thank you for this wonderful post, Jesse.
Wishing you a very happy spring from good ol Detroit.
💙🌸💛🪻✨
Grama Kate taught me so much, cooking, sewing,being aware of your path in the forest. As the matriarch now, I appreciate stuff she shared. Her quote that gives strength often. “There is no spot where god is not. “
My grandmothers were a wonderful part of my childhood. Evelyn was quite a character she would buy things only to take them back later. Nothing was off limits including a mattress she had for a while. She lived through the depression and lost most of their things. My other Grandma, Maggie, was quite the inspiration. She had serious health issues, but always had prayers of gratitude. Lastly, one of them baked a lot and we always had homemade bread and cookies, and the other one would always slip me $5.00 as a child, that was really cool! I had the best of both worlds-- homemade cookies and money. lol.
My grandparents were born in the foothills of Appalachia in Central Alabama. They were born in 1904& 1906, and roads there weren’t paved there until they were in their 30s.
I learned so much about how things have changed in this country by tracking their family on the US Census. The census was designed to ask different questions in different years. I learned that many of their neighbors could not read, and that almost every family had lost at least one child.
From family stories I learned that my grandfather had to quit school when his own father died. He had a sixth grade education but he was a lifetime reader. When I was a kid he read Zane Gray novels and the National Enquirer and he loved the Dodgers. I don’t have many memories of my grandmother who died when I was 5, but my mom told me that her mother scolded her for talking baby talk to me because I was a “serious baby.”
I love that your grandmother's comment about no baby talk! :-)
Such beautiful words, Jesse.
My maternal grandmother, Daria, was born on the 15th March 1906 in Belarus. She died when she was 99. Her life was not easy after being uprooted from her home and sent to Germany as forced labour during WWII, eventually bringing her family, which included my mother, to Australia as a refugee. I know she quietly grieved for her sisters who remained in the USSR and never saw again. She was strong and resilient and was always a source of great comfort to me.
As I have said before, everyone I know who had the pleasure of meeting and knowing your grandmother always has such wonderful memories of their meetings. You do indeed look so like her.
I do not have any pics of my grandparents on either side of my family. Moving so many times in my life and ultimately moving to another country with one hold-all left little space for photographs.
I did write a Substack post about my grandparents but since I do not have the fondest memories of my mother's mother I will not share it out of respect for all the wonderful grandparents mentioned here:)
On the other hand, the scant memories I have of my other grandparents are all favorable. The most prevailing memory is our yearly visits to my father's parents. They had this giant grandfather clock in the living room and its loud tick-tock and chimes live on in my memory:) I believe my father obtained that clock later in life and had it in his home. There was no TV allowed throughout the day so all you heard was that clock making its presence very felt:)))