Made for Relationship

                     Gran (Mildred) and me in our Easter outfits

Anyone learning about my life can easily observe the insufficiency of male input and support. This was, I believe, the foundation or lack thereof for what would become a near lifelong struggle and the setup for my largest life mistakes.

There was George Sr. who had emigrated from Russia when he was sixteen and later married Anna who was ten years his younger.  Pop as I called him tended things in the grocery store but wasn’t as easy going with customers as Gran. Pop was a nice enough man who was around the house to eat meals, watch television and nap in his recliner while Gran was usually in high gear industrious mode cooking and keeping her house spotless. She even trained me to use the towel after my shower to wipe down the entire shower area to avoid mildew and water spots. I never remember either of them driving and doubt they ever had a driver’s license. When Gran took me to the market we took public transportation- buses and trolleys.

                                           Young Mildred
Dutch, my other Pop married my grandmother Mildred when my mother was young. Pop went to the steel mill every day. I remember the black metal lunch box with a silver metal handle he carried back and forth. He often went fishing on his own from piers or on boating day trips and would clean and cook his own catches- yummy. When home he was usually in his recliner watching television. When I traveled anywhere with Gran and Pop, Gran and I were passengers. Gran had her license and I recall two or three times when she drove instead of Pop during long road trips in the summertime. During these trips we would often drive for hours at a stretch and on the occasion that Gran decided she wanted to take the wheel Pop and I softly moaned and were on utter edge until Gran decided she’d had enough and allowed Pop back in the driver’s seat.

It is impossible to explain the way Gran drove but it was like she did so many things- with great earnest and by her own rules. The best way to explain passenger anxiety when Gran drove is telling about when she went bowling. Most people understand that a bowling ball is held closely until your arm nears the floor of the bowling alley where you then sort of lay and push the heavy ball onto the floor, giving it direction so it glides down the polished wood surface.

Once we had an extended family bowling outing. Pop was in a bowling league one night a week but this time it was a family event and even though I was a little kid I played with the adults. As usual I was the only kid in the group. Gran knew how to bowl but her lack of experience and skill evidenced itself when she kept earning low scores by throwing gutter balls. After numerous frustrating attempts just to keep the ball from the gutter and hits a few pins, Gran’s patience was worn so she bowled her own way.  

With gusto, Gran’s fat jiggling, powerful arm released the ball while her arm was still high up in the air. The ball descended quite a ways before making its first loud thud (intermingled with Gran’s growls and hisses) as it bounced onto the wooden alley. Then it continued loudly bouncing its way halfway down the alley until finally reaching its destination in the left gutter. Amazingly, no one said a word. Everyone in the family froze with mouths wide open in astonishment. I laughed uncontrollably inside but couldn’t dare show it and risk incurring Gran’s wrath. Embarrassed? Everyone was so much so that no one knew quite what to do except pretend everything was normal. So is there any wonder why I rejoiced that I would live to see another day when Gran gave the steering wheel back to Pop?

Even with her foibles Gran (Mildred) loved me as best she knew how which for her meant taking me places, even the adult places where she and Pop went like race tracks, bars, casinos for slot machine games, Bingo halls. It also meant buying me games toys and especially dresses with matching socks, purses, gloves and hats for Christmas and Easter. If my mother wasn’t guilt tripped into buying something for me then Gran probably would if I asked her. Mom told me years later that she bought me things trying to make up for her not being with me so much of the time. Consequently I had more clothes than several children needed. It was fun to get something new and enjoy wearing it but it didn’t help alleviate the loneliness and fear for very long, not very long at all. Sometimes the stuff seemed to be all I had. The promise of anything satisfying our yearnings besides real personal relationship with our infinite-personal Creator and with other humans made in His image falls quite hollow within us and the fall comes all too quickly.