My grandmother lived to be 102 years old. Living to the age of 100 was still somewhat of a phenomenon in 2008. That was the year she died. Now we are used to people living well beyond that age. My grandmother lived with my family when my brother and I were school aged. She watched us while our parents worked. When she did not watch us, she worked.
She was a domestic worker, like the ladies you read about in the book The Help by Kathryn Stockett. Although I read the book, I knew from my grandmother’s firsthand accounts what it was like. The book does not give full justice to the realities. My grandmother worked long, grueling hours for a few cents an hour. In addition to work activities, she dealt with demanding homeowners and their children. She was on her feet from the time she left home until she returned.
She Walked
Because she did not drive, my grandmother walked and took public transportation. She would leave home early morning to take two sometimes three busses to the homes where she worked. Sometimes she would take the rapid transit. This is what Clevelanders called the train system. She often split her week working between several homes.
I remember my grandmother getting off the bus in the evening after working. The bus stop was at the corner of our street. She would slowly descend the steps, holding on to the rail. Occasionally, she would take longer to leave the bus, but the driver always patiently waited. My grandmother always carried a satchel pocketbook. I suppose she kept everything she needed in that satchel. I never had the opportunity to go through it.
We Helped
If my friend and I saw her get off the bus, we would run to her. I now realize that she braced herself for the impact of my hugs. It never occurred to me that I could knock her down, but now I know that I probably could. My friend and I would grab her satchel and we would walk with her. It was a heavy bag and took the two of us to carry it. My grandmother would laugh as she watched us struggle. We laughed, too.
That little old lady clocked a lot of miles on her feet during her lifetime. She also gained a treasure in wisdom and shared some of it with me. Born in 1905 in Alabama to parents who were sharecroppers, her father died when she was young. Her mother raised her and her two sisters. She learned to read, write, add, and subtract. Beyond that, life experiences educated her.
She shared the following phrases with me often. The first is one of my favorite sayings.
There isn’t an ill wind that doesn’t change
She also used to say
Time will bring about a change
She Hoped
My grandmother learned through experience that life is lived in seasons. Others may refer to it as the ebb and flow of life. Understanding the seasonal nature of life helped me to manage overwhelming stress during difficult times. Seasons change and situations evolve. Does this mean that trouble magically disappears? Absolutely not.
Grandma and those of her generation believed in hope. She believed that if she was breathing and standing, there was still hope. What was hope in the heart of an old lady who had minimal education, no possessions, and no importance outside of her family? Hope was life. Her hope was in something greater than herself. She leveraged that hope, multiplying it to pass on to the generations that followed her. Hope changes the direction of the wind. It gives courage while waiting for changes to happen.
In what do you hope?
.
“I want to be happy, whole, satisfied and successful. What about you?”
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