By Allison Burnham, in honor of her grandmother, Anna Marie “Sissy” Steiner Kemery.
My Grandma, who’s real name was Anna Marie
Was more than a person - She was saintly and magical, and silly as a ferret
After six cups of coffee
She never had much to give, but she gave me what I needed ---
Even if I never noticed it at the time.
She was genuine, trustworthy and compassionate
She was never false, or pretentious- she was-
A child like me
Though, she grew up very different
Anna Marie was raised in Lafayette Indiana
During the Depression, - Fighting with 10 brothers and sisters,
Sleeping 5 kids to a bed, using hot heavy irons wrapped in
Rags to warm their cold feet
She took care of everyone even then- being the oldest girl
and losing her Father --After her last sister was born
Maybe her strength was passed on from my Great Grandma—
Imagine being a Single mother
With 11 children
In a time when
Stockbrokers were jumping
Off of skyscrapers
Because life was too hard ----
My Grandmother watched
While the whole world was at war,
Dancing to Blueberry Hill - at military mixers
Tripping over torn shoes- and second hand dresses-
Falling into marriage and 3 children
And walking right into
Being my grandma
My grandmother was one of a kind
As I remember, --
She was 6 foot tall, with a runny nose, and bra stuffed with tissue to pull out – and wipe it with.
I remember-
Her bright cherry lipstick- that stained foreheads and coffee cups
And never quite stayed in place – even when it did stay on her face
I adored her for her inconsistency- her wigs that sat sideways on Styrofoam busts
Beside her bottles of thick amber colored perfume
That lingered for days on sweaters after a hug
She could play dolls better than anyone -
I remember sitting Indian style on the carpet-
Turning the house into a castle- and couches into horses
Absorbed in endless hours of pretending to be fairies and doctors and housewives
Cooking meals and cookies and watching the babies
That was a role she didn’t have to imagine--
She was a house wife all of her life, no fancy titles
She could barley drive a car - She never saw a desk outside of high school
She read books though- dozens at a time,
Romance, history, novels, and biographies –
And hated my grandfather’s fixation with TV
I sat for years, on her lap –
Slowly slipping off of polyester pants
Listening to stories till they turned into dreams
She never treated me like a child- She never was condescending-
We were friends – and for her I never misbehaved
I loved her because
She called me-
To tell me about how the sunset frosted the color of the flowers in her garden
Because she forgot to turn the oven on at thanksgiving-
And we didn’t eat supper till 10 o’ clock that night-
Because she had a smile that came from her soul, and it reached right into you
Because once she covered her hair peanut butter for a whole day – to make it grow
Because she understood daydreams, and how it’s ok to get messy
Eating warm tomatoes off the vine- letting the juice run down your arm
Sometimes I think of her,
In the hospital, attached to tubes and wires
Scribbling out worries for everyone but herself – as she slowly let go
In her final days she asked for a cold beer and told us not to be afraid
I didn’t understand- I was only in 6th grade
I thought- but there is so much left for her to do, and see and all we ever got to do was
Just……… Make believe-
Now I realize its part of the lessons she taught me
That little things like daydreams, and sunsets and French vanilla ice cream
Are to often overlooked -
That being yourself is the quickest way to happiness-
And joy doesn’t come with toys and money and things that break
It comes with a peace in yourself
That should never be afraid – or hide under something else
It comes with finding inspiration in the little things
That to often we forget to see
In all, I have to tell you-
My grandma – was a antenna for inspiration
Catching it like a sun beam
Passing it out for the rest of us--
And
Hopefully-
That’s what I took
When she left
And
Hopefully
I will pass along her gentle strength