On to the title topic... many of my family members have come and gone on these notes. Yes, even my grandmother (maternal, since I never met my paternal grandparents other than in pictures and much later in life). She deserves much more than a passing glance; after all, she had the patience of Job with me; I was not an easy child; in this country I probably would have qualified as a problem child in my early years. I could be described as having a short attention span, being an overachiever, and not easy to control. Often, too smart for my own good... No comments please, I am still told this today...
Abuela Carmen was my mother’s mother. Due to circumstances already plastered elsewhere in these notes, she was also acting as my second mother throughout my childhood. In fact, most times, because my own mother was working both at her profession as well as at that complicated work of getting her second husband (not an easy task in an environment which to begin with, shunned divorce) my grandmother was the person with whom we were.
How can she best be described? A relatively young woman, probably in her early fifties during the time span I remember. She was a very patient individual, willing to listen and also to be the recipient of many complaints and much abuse… She administered and managed the household, while my grandfather was outside, doing his thing(s). She was quick to forgive and quicker to hug and laugh. In the summertime, she was our nanny whenever we went to the club and this was every day, since we were both (my sister and I) on the swimming team. She would camp on a beach chair, under an umbrella, by the side of the pool. From her command post, she would then watch us as we did our laps and our sprint practices, always paying attention while holding a sideways conversation with her cronies, most doing the same thing. Then, after we all had lunch at the club cafeteria, she would become the dreaded guardian of the clock, holding us back from the water for one hour… exactly. Not one minute more, and never one minute less… I could not quite understand what that last minute meant regarding our life or death if we entered the water… “Cuidado, que te puede dar un espasmo”… “Careful, you could have a conniption (whatever that is)” was all she would say… To this day, whenever I go into a pool or body of water, I am very careful to eat a light meal beforehand. I don’t want an “espasmo”…
Then there was my grandmother the music lover. She had been, I later learned, an accomplished pianist and piano teacher in her youth. I learned to dance with her. She loved all the salon dances; her favorites were the waltz, and the pasodoble (from Spain, sort of like their foxtrot, very lively and fun) the foxtrot, the danzon (Cuban rhythm, circa 1890’s), the cha cha, and the bolero. She would take me by the hand and show me the steps, dancing around the living room with me (I guess I became a sub for my dear grandfather, who was handed two left feet at birth) and having a grand time. How could I not love her?
Then there was grandmother at Christmas and New Year… her favorite times, since the whole family would be together. She would preside over Christmas Eve dinner, followed by midnight mass; a family (minus my grandfather) tradition. On New Year’s Eve, she would hand out grapes to everyone, and had us ready by midnight. We had to pop a grape in our mouth and eat it, every second for the last 12 seconds of the year. She would mark the time with a ladle hitting the bottom of the pail. Of course, her timing might be a little off, since by then she had downed a couple of manhattans and some cider. For a person who normally did not drink, this was enough to make her a little tipsy.
There were more somber times, after the new regime came in. I am sure she knew this could spell the end of that family she had worked so hard to nurture and maintain; her lifetime accomplishment. There were times I would come to where she was when she was not expecting me; I remember seeing traces of quiet tears and somewhat red eyes. After my aunt left with her whole family, in mid 1961, her easy laugh became harder to come by, but her loving ways were always there and ready for us.
I saw her last on the day we left Cienfuegos, to go to Havana, on our way to the US. We stopped by Cruces, where my mother and stepfather lived, because she was going to stay there to take care of my two baby brothers. We said good bye at the door, her eyes reflecting a deeply seated sadness and anguish which I could only begin to understand after I had my own children. She knew this was not a simple so long, but a goodbye. Most likely, not to cross paths again on this life. The weight of this family break up, coupled with the changes in her society, her friends and her way of life was too much for her. That quick mind which always was ready to laugh and to make you feel good, gave way to a mind lost in its own world, safe from any more losses and any more suffering. I never saw her like this, and I am glad. She was special, and she continues to be so in my own mind and heart, where my memories always give me that young grandmother who was always there for me.
Back soon!!
Until then, Be Well... Be Back!!
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