What a wonderful article, K! You nailed it with so much feeling, and love for your Bubby. And memories brought back of Montreal places - e.g., Brown Derby. Congratulations on an article that captivates the reader the whole way through.... LOVE IT!
This American wishes Canada all the best, and that it remain Canada. Every young person shoul have a Bubby. In my case, that beloved person was my uncle Bill; kind, mostly silent, able and willing to do and fix anything or help me learn to do it myself.
Lovely story. My husband's bubby was much like yours..what's not to love? And I too recall the Brown Derby...Sunday night family outings. Line ups and loud voices-good childhood memories
You honour both your Bubby, the 'queen', and your relationship with her in this lovely piece, especially clear in the snippets of your conversations which reveal such tenderness and love on your part, and such determination and bravado on hers. Well done!
Thanks so much, Sarah!! Writing this piece made me feel back "there" with her as the young granddaughter I was then, enjoying her company and our conversations. And her love.
Kinneret, what a moving homage to your beloved grandmother. Keenly observed details show us what she looked like, her courage, her resilience, and her impish sense of humour.
A touching picture of a woman - a grandmother and a granddaughter. A little lesson in "What do I have to complain about?" and in its own way a mitzvah that informs. Delightfully voiced.
I lived in that area of Montreal in the 1970s as a young mother and pushed my stroller up and down Victoria, my groceries on the bottom shelf and a toddler in the seat. It was a wonderful street with many ladies who might have answered to the description of your Bubby. How lucky you were to have each other. What a capacity for love she had!
Thanks so much, Elaine. It really was a colourful neighborhood and innocent times. Well, fairly innocent. :-) And I really was lucky to have had my Bubby!!
I am particularly sensitive to stories like yours, Kinneret. I grew up without grandparents. All four of mine perished in Auschwitz. As a child, I didn’t realize that I was lacking in anything. But it was a large hole that I have attempted to fill with a couple of books reconstructing their lives. But words cannot be a substitute for relationships such as the one that you had with your grandmother. You were particularly blessed in recognizing it at the time. Thank you for sharing.
Yes, I do know how lucky I was, Elaine. It was a totally unconditional love and deeply felt between us. Whenever I think of her, I'm back there as a twenty-something (or younger), enjoying her company.
What a wonderful article, K! You nailed it with so much feeling, and love for your Bubby. And memories brought back of Montreal places - e.g., Brown Derby. Congratulations on an article that captivates the reader the whole way through.... LOVE IT!
Thank you so much, Judy! Them's were the days, that's for sure. An era long gone and wistfully remembered.
Thanks again for the kind words!
This American wishes Canada all the best, and that it remain Canada. Every young person shoul have a Bubby. In my case, that beloved person was my uncle Bill; kind, mostly silent, able and willing to do and fix anything or help me learn to do it myself.
I can taste the bagel. I can feel the love. Grandmothers - we have so much in common. Thank you Kinneret.
Kinneret - a wonderful tribute.
Thank you, Anna!!!
Lovely story. My husband's bubby was much like yours..what's not to love? And I too recall the Brown Derby...Sunday night family outings. Line ups and loud voices-good childhood memories
That was such a wonderful era, and The Brown Derby, a Montreal treasure. Who knew it wouldn't last?
I loved this. Wonderful memoir, excellent use of dialect: I could hear your bubbe, Z"L. Thanks to you, her memory, and love, live.
Thank you so much!
Thank you for this. It made me love your Bubby, may she rest in peace.
Many thanks, Miriam!
This is wonderful, thank you for sharing!
Thanks for the kind words!
Missing my Nanas today after reading this - and this poem popped up in my FB memories as well today.
They are taking so many things with them:
their sewing machines and fine china,
their ability to fold a newspaper
with one hand and swat a fly.
They are taking their rotary telephones,
and fat televisions, and knitting needles,
their cast iron frying pans, and Tupperware.
They are packing away the picnics
and perambulators, the wagons
and church socials. They are wrapped in
lipstick and big band music, dressed
in recipes. Buried with them: bathtubs
with feet, front porches, dogs without leashes.
These are the people who raised me
and now I am left behind in
a world without paper letters,
a place where the phone
has grown as eager as a weed.
I am going to miss their attics,
their ordinary coffee, their chicken
fried in lard. I would give anything
to be ten again, up late with them
in that cottage by the river, buying
Marvin Gardens and passing go,
collecting two hundred dollars.
“My Grandparents’ Generation” by Faith Shearin from Telling the Bees. © Stephen F. Austin State University Press, 2015.
Lovely! And so true. A generation gone and with it all of the wonderful things that defined it.
You honour both your Bubby, the 'queen', and your relationship with her in this lovely piece, especially clear in the snippets of your conversations which reveal such tenderness and love on your part, and such determination and bravado on hers. Well done!
Thanks so much, Sarah!! Writing this piece made me feel back "there" with her as the young granddaughter I was then, enjoying her company and our conversations. And her love.
A wonderful, heartwarming story that reminds us of the price our ancestors paid to seek a better life.
Thanks, David!
Kinneret, what a moving homage to your beloved grandmother. Keenly observed details show us what she looked like, her courage, her resilience, and her impish sense of humour.
Yes, she really did have an impish sense of humour Paula. And always with a glint in her eye. :-)
A touching picture of a woman - a grandmother and a granddaughter. A little lesson in "What do I have to complain about?" and in its own way a mitzvah that informs. Delightfully voiced.
Thank you so much, Robert!
I lived in that area of Montreal in the 1970s as a young mother and pushed my stroller up and down Victoria, my groceries on the bottom shelf and a toddler in the seat. It was a wonderful street with many ladies who might have answered to the description of your Bubby. How lucky you were to have each other. What a capacity for love she had!
Thanks so much, Elaine. It really was a colourful neighborhood and innocent times. Well, fairly innocent. :-) And I really was lucky to have had my Bubby!!
I am particularly sensitive to stories like yours, Kinneret. I grew up without grandparents. All four of mine perished in Auschwitz. As a child, I didn’t realize that I was lacking in anything. But it was a large hole that I have attempted to fill with a couple of books reconstructing their lives. But words cannot be a substitute for relationships such as the one that you had with your grandmother. You were particularly blessed in recognizing it at the time. Thank you for sharing.
Yes, I do know how lucky I was, Elaine. It was a totally unconditional love and deeply felt between us. Whenever I think of her, I'm back there as a twenty-something (or younger), enjoying her company.
I used to dream of having a grandmother like your Bubby. Thank you for sharing.
delightgfullly majestic! grandeur can be found everywhere
mary anne