The more time I spend with "V", the more she reminds me of my late Grandmother, Rose, who would have been one hundred and three years old last Sunday. Grandma lived until the age of ninety-four, but the last three years of her life were devoid of any quality, as she was the victim of a heart that would not stop.
Usually, it's the other way around when it comes to matters of the heart, at least according to Celine Dion's unforgettable, eternally gut-wrenching theme to the film "Titanic." She (and the song-writers) couldn't' have been more right. The heart does go on after a loved one's life is lost, and they are remembered in many different ways - memorials, testimonials, photographs, memoirs, home-movies (probably now done on the computer), just to name a few.
Even when the situation does not involve death, and a loved one moves on in a different manner, perhaps due to a relationship ending or a long distance relocation, they are kept "close at heart," thereby allowing the heart to go on in a never-ending way.
In my Grandmother's case, her body, laid up in a nursing home, deteriorated until nearly every internal system had shut down. All except for her coronary functioning. She could not speak. She could not move. She could not eat. She just literally shrank from the larger-than-life Grandma that I so adored and admired to an almost skeletal resemblance of a human being. It was truly heart-breaking, and I often wonder why she was not taken from this life sooner so that she would not have to suffer in that manner. Why did her heart keep beating? What was it, or she, fighting for? Was there something left undone in her life that required her heart to go on even when the rest of her was entirely gone?
I'll probably never know the answer to that, and I'm sure that a lot of others who grieve the loss of their loved ones must wonder the same question.
Other than the last three years, however, Grandma had been clearly cognizant, very verbal and visibly vibrant, always speaking up (sometimes with great persistence) for what she needed or wanted, most of which she usually received. I remember her telling stories of what it was like living through the depression era, many of which are extremely similar to the stories that "V" is now sharing with me.
In fact, one phrase in particular stands out significantly, as I've now heard it uttered by both Grandma and "V", along with many other older folks that I've been privileged to know. It seems to reflect a more frugal way of life indicative of the their formative years. Much later, this way of life became the complete opposite for many of these same people. For example, take the 1950s, when every day living was made vastly easier by a variety of new gizmos and gadgets, and money was not so much of an "object" as it had been two decades earlier. Today, we have even more gizmos and gadgets, all highly improved and of a nature that people simply can't live without.
So if you asked "V", or my Grandma (while she was still cognizant, verbal and vibrant), why her kitchen cabinets, cupboards, and closets, (as well as every other area of the house where it was possible to stuff belongings to the gills), were so full, the answer would be exactly the same: "Just in case."
Here's a recent example of a conversation I had with "V".
"Why is your freezer full of things that we don't use?" I asked delicately, already suspecting what the answer was going to be.
"What do you mean?" she replied, genuinely unclear of where I was going with the query.
"Well..." I continued with some trepidation, not wanting to hurt her feelings in any way, "Like the boxes of donuts, and the frozen cakes, and all those other yummy treats that we don't eat..." At this point, I wasn't only envisioning the freezer, but also the refrigerator and cabinets, one of which contained over twenty cans of tuna fish. Honestly, in my seven weeks on the job, I had only used one can for a casserole, and a daytime caregiver had used another one for tuna salad, so, if my math is correct, that still left eighteen cans of tuna fish! And it wasn't just the canned fish that lined the shelves in great abundance, but also jars of olives, pickles, three bean salad, tomato sauce, etc., many of which were well past their expiration dates.
"V"s response was simple and succinct, "They're there just in case." As satisfactory an answer if ever there was one! My mind flashed back to my Grandmother's pantry... and freezer... and kitchen cabinets... and linen closets... and every other area of the house where it was possible to stuff belongings to the gills. Amazingly, she had always said the same thing as "V" did about the excess items. They were there "Just in case." Come to think of it, the cabinets, cupboards, and closets throughout "M"s home were much the same way. Stuffed! To the gills!
In case of what, I used to wonder when I was younger. Not anymore. In fact, reflecting on my own storage system, I'd have to say that, at the half century mark, I'm much more like my Grandmother and "V" than I was thirty years ago!
"In case of company," was the most obvious answer that both "V" and my Grandma gave. And upon further explanation, it made perfect sense. They both were advanced in age, had made many friends over the years, and had a myriad of extended family members, which included not only children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but also cousins, nieces, nephews, and their children! Of course they would want to have a variety of food and drink to offer the many visitors that could show up at any given time!
As if her answer weren't satisfactory enough, "V" added, "What if anyone stops by?" Again, I could recall my Grandmother asking the very same thing. Sadly, I also remember the many hours she spent alone, just waiting for anyone to stop by. Except that hardly anyone did. And if they did, it was only for a short period of time, just long enough to say they were there, but not enough to share some genuine, quality time. Their early exits were usually justified by valid excuses such as having to pick up the "kids" from some kind of sports practice, or having to drop off the kids at some kind of school function, or even just getting back to work (even if that work was done from home).
Virginia's point was quite well taken. I certainly wouldn't want someone to stop by my home and not have any kind of snack or beverage to offer them. It was the polite thing to do. Old-fashioned, perhaps, but definitely polite. Something that all too often seems to have gone by the wayside in today's hectic times. Besides, people are now able to meet for a "quick cup of coffee" (in an amazing array of tastes and sizes!) at numerous establishments that cater to an easy in and out. Busy people. On-the-go. Always something to do and somewhere to be. And by the way, watch out for places that serve only tea! It is making a magnificent comeback in popularity during recent years!
Obviously, it is now a very different world than the one that "V" and "M" and my Grandma knew when they were growing up. Money was tight, and scarily, some people never even knew where their next meal was coming from. Folks tended to stock up their cabinets, cupboards, and closets for very good reason, just in case there was no more to be had at the local marketplaces, and so that their families would not go without food and other essentials necessary for survival. Even when economic times improved, the habit of stocking up "just in case" became ingrained in many individuals who had muddled through some very meager years.
"V" was clearly one of these people, and I admired her frugality, as well as her sense of hospitality, both of which kept her home full of anything that was needed. I also admired her pride, which was probably the driving force behind the over-flowing storage areas. My grandmother had exhibited this same quality. It was much easier to keep the house well-stocked "just in case" than to face the reality that not many people really "stopped by" anymore.
During my last visit with "V", however, I couldn't help but add to the collection of goodies stored safely throughout the kitchen. Since we never touched any of the treats that were tucked away in the back of the refrigerator and freezer (the "just in case" stash), I decided to bring my own collection. Since I would be with "V" for the entire weekend, I packed up a bag full of cookies, soda, and other sugary snacks sure to tempt any taste buds. Many of these were items that perhaps "V" had not tried before, so I was also hopeful to introduce her to some new taste sensations, as well as reacquaint her with some old favorites, like cherry pie.
After lunch, I eagerly offered "V" some of my cookies, thinking that this would make a lovely dessert following a healthy mid-afternoon meal.
"No thank you," she said very politely, perhaps trying not to hurt my feelings. "I would just rather have a piece of fruit."
Fruit? Really? But I was sooooooo used to cookies, soda, and other sugary snacks that had become staples in my diet. How else does one get through a hectic day in today's whirlwind world?
"Okay..." I thought, trying to fight off extreme internal resistance. "I'll try a piece of fruit, too."
Wow! What a miraculous discovery! The fruit, in this case a pear, was delicious! What a concept? Something natural, and not filled with sugary additives, but that still tasted sweet! I vowed to eat more fruit with "V" after our meals. Besides, it never hurts to try something new.
By late afternoon, however, I was growing sleepy. I was used to my mid-day sugar high, the one that would keep me going during a typically busy day. "V" had placed her large-print book down in her lap and napped for a while, and following her lead, I began to doze off, too.
Suddenly and somewhat startlingly, "V" chirped, "Would you like some ice cream, Dear?"
I seriously thought I misheard the question, so I stupidly reiterated the same words in return, "Would you like some ice cream?"
"Yes," "V" confirmed. "Just a little, though, because it's a little too cold today." I was ecstatic! A little was better than nothing, and I could feel my mouth begin to water at the thought of the sugary sweetness.
Then, an even bigger surprise slid out of "V"s lips. "Can we have some of that pie you brought with you, along with the ice cream?"
Pie? Of course we could have pie! I had purchased two individual sized cherry pies at the corner quick stop before arriving for my shift, and had hoped with all my might that "V" would show some interest in them.
"Only half a piece, though," "V" cautioned. "Okay," I again reasoned to myself. Half a piece is better than no piece at all.
Of all the pie a-la-mode I've had throughout my lifetime, I'd have to say that this particular serving was the most enjoyable ever, thanks to "V"s company and her thorough enjoyment of the treat. She seemed to savor every bite, as if to make the experience last as long as possible. I wondered if this was what it was like during the Depression. Did people savor every bite, wondering when and where the next one would come from? Did they enjoy life's little pleasures, such as a good conversation over a piece of pie, stripped of all the gizmos and gadgets that are supposed to make life "simpler"?
By the end of the day, "V" and I once again became engrossed in an old movie on showing on television. Actually, we were on the second film of an unintended double feature. The break between the movies was not long enough for me to prepare a proper, healthy meal like the ones we usually ate at the dining room table. I expressed my concern to "V", who much to my surprise, suggested, "I suppose we could just have some leftovers and eat them in front of the TV."
Had I just heard her correctly? My ears had been clogged up a bit from a recent cold, so perhaps they weren't operating at one hundred percent yet.
I once again stupidly reiterated the her words in return, "Do you want to have some leftovers and eat them in front of the TV?" By this point, "V" must have thought I was either hard-of-hearing or completely incapable of making a decision on my own.
"Sure," she answered with a slight glimmer in her eyes. "Why not? We certainly don't want to miss the movie."
I didn't have to hear that twice! I hurried into the kitchen and whipped together some hot dogs and leftover macaroni and cheese from the night before, getting the meal together just in time for the film. Not the healthiest, properly prepared, formally served meal that we had become used to eating, but definitely not something we would starve from either!
"Hurry up!" "V" called from the living room. "You're missing the start of the movie!" Her voice was louder and more insistent than I'd ever heard it thus far in our relationship. It was a wonderful sound.
I hustled the food into the living room while "V" updated me on what I had missed during the first two minutes of the movie. I was both amused and surprised at the sight of her. There she sat in her reclining chair, large print book laid out on her lap, completely ready to have the dish set down so that she could eat in front of the television set. It was as if she'd been doing this all her life! (Which, sorry to say, I had actually been doing most of my life!).
"There's a tray over there for you," she pointed, and I rushed over to retrieve it. The tray was covered in dust and decorated with a few cobwebs, so I raced into the kitchen to give it a quick rinse. Judging from its appearance, it definitely had not been used in a while, if ever. Perhaps it was one of those "just in case" items that was stored around the house for use if anyone happened to stop by.
Both "V" and I thoroughly enjoyed our meal and the movie. And after it was over, she surprised me yet again. I didn't know what to expect from this youthful elderly woman anymore!
"Maybe we can have some more ice cream and the rest of that pie?" she asked, a big grin on her face.
"Sure!" I exclaimed, perhaps too gleefully, but at this point, who cared. We had already broken all rules of mealtime etiquette and gone way beyond the proper dinner-time regimen.
After we were both seated with our pie a-la-modes, ready to watch two of "V"s favorite Saturday night BBC programs, I asked her if she had ever eaten dinner in front of the television set before.
"Nooooo!" she said emphatically, shaking her head back and forth. "My mother didn't raise me that way." She described the mixture of despair and disappointment that her long-passed mother would experience at such a sight.
"I think your mother is smiling down on you right now," I told "V" in all sincerity, then added, "And if she had lived to be ninety-five, I bet she'd be doing the same thing."
"Maybe," "V" mused. "But I'm not so sure. She was a stickler for being proper."
"I think she would have approved," I countered, thinking of how happy mother's feel when they know their children are content and at peace.
One thing was certainly for sure at the end of our evening. "V" and I had clearly jumped over the hurdle of the "just in case" stash. Granted, I wasn't exactly "company" in the truest sense of the word. I was being compensated to provide companionship for "V". But salary aside, the enjoyable time spent together with "V" could not possibly be measured in monetary terms. It was an absolute delight and a real privilege to share this experience with her, and once again, I was left feeling extremely grateful.
As I went to sleep that night, I imagined my Grandmother smiling down at me on what would have been her one hundred and third birthday. I wished I had spent more moments with her enjoying life's little pleasures. In particular, I was extremely sorry that I had not taken the opportunity to enjoy her "just in case" stash by simply taking the time to stop by more frequently and enjoy some conversation, and perhaps a few sweets, with her.
Just like "V"s Mother, I had the feeling that Grandma would have greatly approved of the way "V" and I had spent our day. In fact, I was absolutely certain she would, as I my mind began to recall many memorable times that I shared with my Grandmother as a young child eating ice cream and pie in front of the television set.
I would definitely have to replenish my own cabinets, cupboards and closets when I got home... just in case...
As if her answer weren't satisfactory enough, "V" added, "What if anyone stops by?" Again, I could recall my Grandmother asking the very same thing. Sadly, I also remember the many hours she spent alone, just waiting for anyone to stop by. Except that hardly anyone did. And if they did, it was only for a short period of time, just long enough to say they were there, but not enough to share some genuine, quality time. Their early exits were usually justified by valid excuses such as having to pick up the "kids" from some kind of sports practice, or having to drop off the kids at some kind of school function, or even just getting back to work (even if that work was done from home).
Virginia's point was quite well taken. I certainly wouldn't want someone to stop by my home and not have any kind of snack or beverage to offer them. It was the polite thing to do. Old-fashioned, perhaps, but definitely polite. Something that all too often seems to have gone by the wayside in today's hectic times. Besides, people are now able to meet for a "quick cup of coffee" (in an amazing array of tastes and sizes!) at numerous establishments that cater to an easy in and out. Busy people. On-the-go. Always something to do and somewhere to be. And by the way, watch out for places that serve only tea! It is making a magnificent comeback in popularity during recent years!
Obviously, it is now a very different world than the one that "V" and "M" and my Grandma knew when they were growing up. Money was tight, and scarily, some people never even knew where their next meal was coming from. Folks tended to stock up their cabinets, cupboards, and closets for very good reason, just in case there was no more to be had at the local marketplaces, and so that their families would not go without food and other essentials necessary for survival. Even when economic times improved, the habit of stocking up "just in case" became ingrained in many individuals who had muddled through some very meager years.
"V" was clearly one of these people, and I admired her frugality, as well as her sense of hospitality, both of which kept her home full of anything that was needed. I also admired her pride, which was probably the driving force behind the over-flowing storage areas. My grandmother had exhibited this same quality. It was much easier to keep the house well-stocked "just in case" than to face the reality that not many people really "stopped by" anymore.
During my last visit with "V", however, I couldn't help but add to the collection of goodies stored safely throughout the kitchen. Since we never touched any of the treats that were tucked away in the back of the refrigerator and freezer (the "just in case" stash), I decided to bring my own collection. Since I would be with "V" for the entire weekend, I packed up a bag full of cookies, soda, and other sugary snacks sure to tempt any taste buds. Many of these were items that perhaps "V" had not tried before, so I was also hopeful to introduce her to some new taste sensations, as well as reacquaint her with some old favorites, like cherry pie.
After lunch, I eagerly offered "V" some of my cookies, thinking that this would make a lovely dessert following a healthy mid-afternoon meal.
"No thank you," she said very politely, perhaps trying not to hurt my feelings. "I would just rather have a piece of fruit."
Fruit? Really? But I was sooooooo used to cookies, soda, and other sugary snacks that had become staples in my diet. How else does one get through a hectic day in today's whirlwind world?
"Okay..." I thought, trying to fight off extreme internal resistance. "I'll try a piece of fruit, too."
Wow! What a miraculous discovery! The fruit, in this case a pear, was delicious! What a concept? Something natural, and not filled with sugary additives, but that still tasted sweet! I vowed to eat more fruit with "V" after our meals. Besides, it never hurts to try something new.
By late afternoon, however, I was growing sleepy. I was used to my mid-day sugar high, the one that would keep me going during a typically busy day. "V" had placed her large-print book down in her lap and napped for a while, and following her lead, I began to doze off, too.
Suddenly and somewhat startlingly, "V" chirped, "Would you like some ice cream, Dear?"
I seriously thought I misheard the question, so I stupidly reiterated the same words in return, "Would you like some ice cream?"
"Yes," "V" confirmed. "Just a little, though, because it's a little too cold today." I was ecstatic! A little was better than nothing, and I could feel my mouth begin to water at the thought of the sugary sweetness.
Then, an even bigger surprise slid out of "V"s lips. "Can we have some of that pie you brought with you, along with the ice cream?"
Pie? Of course we could have pie! I had purchased two individual sized cherry pies at the corner quick stop before arriving for my shift, and had hoped with all my might that "V" would show some interest in them.
"Only half a piece, though," "V" cautioned. "Okay," I again reasoned to myself. Half a piece is better than no piece at all.
Of all the pie a-la-mode I've had throughout my lifetime, I'd have to say that this particular serving was the most enjoyable ever, thanks to "V"s company and her thorough enjoyment of the treat. She seemed to savor every bite, as if to make the experience last as long as possible. I wondered if this was what it was like during the Depression. Did people savor every bite, wondering when and where the next one would come from? Did they enjoy life's little pleasures, such as a good conversation over a piece of pie, stripped of all the gizmos and gadgets that are supposed to make life "simpler"?
By the end of the day, "V" and I once again became engrossed in an old movie on showing on television. Actually, we were on the second film of an unintended double feature. The break between the movies was not long enough for me to prepare a proper, healthy meal like the ones we usually ate at the dining room table. I expressed my concern to "V", who much to my surprise, suggested, "I suppose we could just have some leftovers and eat them in front of the TV."
Had I just heard her correctly? My ears had been clogged up a bit from a recent cold, so perhaps they weren't operating at one hundred percent yet.
I once again stupidly reiterated the her words in return, "Do you want to have some leftovers and eat them in front of the TV?" By this point, "V" must have thought I was either hard-of-hearing or completely incapable of making a decision on my own.
"Sure," she answered with a slight glimmer in her eyes. "Why not? We certainly don't want to miss the movie."
I didn't have to hear that twice! I hurried into the kitchen and whipped together some hot dogs and leftover macaroni and cheese from the night before, getting the meal together just in time for the film. Not the healthiest, properly prepared, formally served meal that we had become used to eating, but definitely not something we would starve from either!
"Hurry up!" "V" called from the living room. "You're missing the start of the movie!" Her voice was louder and more insistent than I'd ever heard it thus far in our relationship. It was a wonderful sound.
I hustled the food into the living room while "V" updated me on what I had missed during the first two minutes of the movie. I was both amused and surprised at the sight of her. There she sat in her reclining chair, large print book laid out on her lap, completely ready to have the dish set down so that she could eat in front of the television set. It was as if she'd been doing this all her life! (Which, sorry to say, I had actually been doing most of my life!).
"There's a tray over there for you," she pointed, and I rushed over to retrieve it. The tray was covered in dust and decorated with a few cobwebs, so I raced into the kitchen to give it a quick rinse. Judging from its appearance, it definitely had not been used in a while, if ever. Perhaps it was one of those "just in case" items that was stored around the house for use if anyone happened to stop by.
Both "V" and I thoroughly enjoyed our meal and the movie. And after it was over, she surprised me yet again. I didn't know what to expect from this youthful elderly woman anymore!
"Maybe we can have some more ice cream and the rest of that pie?" she asked, a big grin on her face.
"Sure!" I exclaimed, perhaps too gleefully, but at this point, who cared. We had already broken all rules of mealtime etiquette and gone way beyond the proper dinner-time regimen.
After we were both seated with our pie a-la-modes, ready to watch two of "V"s favorite Saturday night BBC programs, I asked her if she had ever eaten dinner in front of the television set before.
"Nooooo!" she said emphatically, shaking her head back and forth. "My mother didn't raise me that way." She described the mixture of despair and disappointment that her long-passed mother would experience at such a sight.
"I think your mother is smiling down on you right now," I told "V" in all sincerity, then added, "And if she had lived to be ninety-five, I bet she'd be doing the same thing."
"Maybe," "V" mused. "But I'm not so sure. She was a stickler for being proper."
"I think she would have approved," I countered, thinking of how happy mother's feel when they know their children are content and at peace.
One thing was certainly for sure at the end of our evening. "V" and I had clearly jumped over the hurdle of the "just in case" stash. Granted, I wasn't exactly "company" in the truest sense of the word. I was being compensated to provide companionship for "V". But salary aside, the enjoyable time spent together with "V" could not possibly be measured in monetary terms. It was an absolute delight and a real privilege to share this experience with her, and once again, I was left feeling extremely grateful.
As I went to sleep that night, I imagined my Grandmother smiling down at me on what would have been her one hundred and third birthday. I wished I had spent more moments with her enjoying life's little pleasures. In particular, I was extremely sorry that I had not taken the opportunity to enjoy her "just in case" stash by simply taking the time to stop by more frequently and enjoy some conversation, and perhaps a few sweets, with her.
Just like "V"s Mother, I had the feeling that Grandma would have greatly approved of the way "V" and I had spent our day. In fact, I was absolutely certain she would, as I my mind began to recall many memorable times that I shared with my Grandmother as a young child eating ice cream and pie in front of the television set.
I would definitely have to replenish my own cabinets, cupboards and closets when I got home... just in case...
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