my new pet project
My great-grandma Macomber was a storyteller, whether it was letters to her family, anecdotal snapshots of her long, full life, or poems to and about her family. She wrote most of them, but sometimes she recorded them on a tape to send to everyone, just for variety I guess.
Some of the stories are ones I heard over and over again growing up, like the one where Grandma Macomber was making my dad (little Danny) a peanut butter sandwich, and he was being so picky--insisting that the peanut butter cover every centimeter of the slice of bread--that she got frustrated and he got a peanut-buttered slice to the face.
I love the story of how Grandpa Boss (Grandma Mac's son-in-law) bought Grandma Boss (her daughter) a piano for Christmas one year, when my dad and his siblings were little. Grandma Boss had spent a lot of time cleaning the house and arranging the Christmas tree, and it looked beautiful. Meanwhile, Grandpa had arranged for her and the kids to be away when the piano movers came with the piano that day. They left on schedule, but when the movers came, Grandpa realized that with the Christmas tree up, there was no room for the piano. He and Grandma Mac scrambled to move the tree, and they ended up making a mess and putting the tree in a weird place. When Grandma Boss came home, she looked in dismay at the mess and the new (bad) location for the tree. Grandpa said, "We moved the tree; don't you like it?" She said, "Frankly, no!" Then they revealed the piano, and and a lot of piano-playing ensued.
Grandma Boss and I have been talking for a while about organizing all Grandma Mac's stories and writings and compiling them into a memoir or collection of sorts, mostly just for our family. In many ways, she was the beginning of our extended family as it is now, and her stories to us are the legacy she left. On Sunday Grandma Boss gave me some of the folders stuffed with Grandma Mac's stories and letters, and I'm really excited to look through them and try to get them in some chronological order to start. I love this project already, and I like the nostalgia and sentimentality that inevitably accompanies it. Plus, I really loved my grandma, and when I read her stories, I can just hear her kind, wobbly voice. Hearing that voice always seemed to me akin to having your face stroked by her gnarled hand--when she spoke, you just knew how much she loved you and treasured you.
Some of the stories are ones I heard over and over again growing up, like the one where Grandma Macomber was making my dad (little Danny) a peanut butter sandwich, and he was being so picky--insisting that the peanut butter cover every centimeter of the slice of bread--that she got frustrated and he got a peanut-buttered slice to the face.
I love the story of how Grandpa Boss (Grandma Mac's son-in-law) bought Grandma Boss (her daughter) a piano for Christmas one year, when my dad and his siblings were little. Grandma Boss had spent a lot of time cleaning the house and arranging the Christmas tree, and it looked beautiful. Meanwhile, Grandpa had arranged for her and the kids to be away when the piano movers came with the piano that day. They left on schedule, but when the movers came, Grandpa realized that with the Christmas tree up, there was no room for the piano. He and Grandma Mac scrambled to move the tree, and they ended up making a mess and putting the tree in a weird place. When Grandma Boss came home, she looked in dismay at the mess and the new (bad) location for the tree. Grandpa said, "We moved the tree; don't you like it?" She said, "Frankly, no!" Then they revealed the piano, and and a lot of piano-playing ensued.
Grandma Boss and I have been talking for a while about organizing all Grandma Mac's stories and writings and compiling them into a memoir or collection of sorts, mostly just for our family. In many ways, she was the beginning of our extended family as it is now, and her stories to us are the legacy she left. On Sunday Grandma Boss gave me some of the folders stuffed with Grandma Mac's stories and letters, and I'm really excited to look through them and try to get them in some chronological order to start. I love this project already, and I like the nostalgia and sentimentality that inevitably accompanies it. Plus, I really loved my grandma, and when I read her stories, I can just hear her kind, wobbly voice. Hearing that voice always seemed to me akin to having your face stroked by her gnarled hand--when she spoke, you just knew how much she loved you and treasured you.