My grandmother was born in 1925, and for comparison during 1925 Benito Mussolini had just become the dictator of Italy and Calvin Coolidge was the president of the United States. 1925 was a very different time from now, and my grandmother's childhood was very different than mine. Connie grew up in Buffalo, New York, just across the Canadian border. As a child she would work on a strawberry farm as a migrant worker every summer with her family. She laughed her contagious laugh as she told me the story of how she would throw strawberries at her Aunt Millie and Millie would get mad at her because she would be covered in them. During Grandma Connie's childhood segregation was prominent, and when a black family moved into her neighborhood when she was in eighth grade she said, "everybody was shocked and didn't know how to react, but the kid Frank was nice and kind. He was nothing like what you heard people talk about". Today there are rallies and protests such as in Ferguson, Missouri because the idea of racism is so insane, but back then they never knew any different.
Connie had a twin, my aunt Mary; they were very close but would still mess around just as siblings do. My grandmother and Mary would steal each other's boyfriends and hang out at Crystal Beach as teenagers. Her time may have been different, but her past is full of experiences, and show all she has been through.
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My grandmother has been quilting for years. I can't remember a time when there weren't quilts displayed in her home, or her talking about quilting patterns. We have many quilts made by her in our home, and they mean everything to us. They're intricate, handmade and show the love of our grandmother in them. They're as delicate as butterfly's wings and beautiful just like my grandmother. My grandmother is a quilter, and that is part of who she is.
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My grandmother Concetta
on Palm Sunday 1943 |
I grew up in a small town called Mooresville, Indiana, about an hour and a half away from an even smaller town called Danville, Illinois. This is where my grandmother lived and where my second home is. We would make weekend trips to Danville occasionally and go to Sunday dinners at Grandma Connie's house. Our family always got there before everyone else and we would spend time with my grandmother. My sister and I would beg my dad to take us to Custard Cup before dinner and sometimes we would sneak Grandma a cup of vanilla ice cream because my Aunt Jackie would never allow her to have it. Before dinner I would play with my cousins in the backyard while my aunts and my grandmother would cook in the tiny kitchen that could fit no more than 3 to 4 people at one time. We would set up extra tables in the living room and eat because there wasn't enough room in the dining room for the whole family to eat. After dinner we would stay awhile until we had to go. These are some of my best memories at my grandmother's house, and this is where I always saw her. She would sit in her spot on the flowered couches inside and when it was warm she would sit on the back porch on the bench and sunbathe while watching us kids play. She was happy, and I was always able to see the beauty in how content she was.
, My grandmother and I are in the kitchen baking cookies. She helps me onto the stepping stool so I can reach the wooden counter in the middle of our kitchen. She starts teaching me how to make the dough and roll it out into little snakes with my hands, this is my favorite part. The dough sticks on my hands and of course there is flour all over the counter. We put the cookies on a pan and let them sit out until they are ready to bake. I help grandma Connie clean up the mess and have fun while doing so. The rest of her stay we play dress up, and she picks me up and talks to me. She’s the perfect grandmother in my eyes, and nobody could change how I saw her.
When I asked my Grandmother how she feels about today’s culture, she said, "well children know a lot more nowadays” and I think that explains a lot. In today’s culture kids are exposed much more to the world, but when my Grandmother grew up she did not have the resources I have. My grandmother is a simple woman, she has told me her perfect day is everyday. Concetta is 90 years old, and she said, "Everyday is perfect at my age". She lives in the moment and doesn't regret much, but wishes she had put herself out there more. Her life is full of lessons to be learned, and listening to her tell stories is one of my favorite things to do. I could not imagine never having listened to my grandmother's stories about her life. She grew up so different from me, and it puts into perspective how different generations grow up. |
