Nothing For Children

Growing up, my sisters and I were blessed with wonderful grandparents. If you continue to follow this blog you will be introduced to them. They were hard working people, and having started their family at the beginning of the Great Depression, they knew a thing or two about being thrifty. It was their saving habits that allowed my grandfather to retire at the age of 55. Once retired, Grampa busied himself with keeping his house, and a few rentals he owned, in good repair. Gramma continued her wifely duties as she always had. Of course it also left time for them to spoil their grand kids.

Don’t get me wrong, Gramma and Grampa were not ones to lavish us with gifts and endless trips to amusement parks, but I can’t think of a time we didn’t want to see our grandparents. Back when my parents still treated each other civilly, they would go out often. They belonged to several social organizations, bowled, and had a wide circle of friends. It seemed there was always a party to attend, and who better to babysit than the grandparents.

We loved going to see Gramma and Grampa. There was no place on earth we would rather be than at their house. We got excited when our parents went out because our dad was handsome and our mother beautiful, and we liked to see them all dressed up. We also liked seeing them happy together. It didn’t happen that often, and when it did we soaked it up. However, the best part of our parents going out was getting to spend the evening with our grandparents. When mom and dad dropped us off they always gave us each a dollar. After dinner, Gramma would walk with us to the convenience store around the corner. As we walked out of the house, Grampa would always holler at us to bring him back a Bit O’Honey. Once at the store, we would clutch our dollars like life itself, and spend an eternity picking just the right combination of treats that would use as much of that dollar as possible without going over. Once selected and paid for, we would walk back to the house, Gramma telling us stories and holding our hands the whole way. Upon our return Grampa would devour his Bit O’Honey, and Gramma would ask us which game we wanted to play. Gramma didn’t have a closet full of games, so the selection was limited. We could choose from Monopoly, Tripoli, 500 Rummy, Mexican Bingo, or poker. I don’t know of anyone not raised in south Texas who has heard of Mexican Bingo, but for those who have, it holds a special place in their hearts, usually because their grandparents introduced them to the game. One can’t think of Mexican Bingo without being flooded with pleasant memories of their grandparents.

Every now and then we would play poker, and those nights were special. Grampa usually didn’t play poker with us, but that didn’t stop him from coaching or answering questions about who had the best hand. Then there was the issue of poker chips. Grampa didn’t let anyone play with his chips, so on the nights he relented, we knew it was an extra special night. Whatever game we played, there was always laughter and hugs. Gramma would tell us stories of when Dad was a boy, or of the hardships of raising a family during the depression, or any of a number of things. It didn’t matter. Gramma could read the phone book to us and make it fun. It was fun because she wanted to be with us as much as we wanted to be with her. Grampa would sit in his chair, listening to us and laughing, waiting for the news to come on. When the news was over we would usually stop our game because then it was time to watch a movie. Every night at 10:30 a movie would come on TV, and Grampa would watch it. Usually by that time we were winding down and ready for a movie. So we would all sit in the den, with the only light coming from a seven and a half watt light bulb in the lamp on top of the television. I’m telling you, people who lived through the Depression know how to stretch a dollar. Invariably, after sitting through the entire movie, as we watched the credits roll down the screen, Grampa would say, “I think I seen this picture.” The things we remember.

I also remember something else quite peculiar about my grandparents house. It had nothing for children. For a while there was an old swing set, but eventually Dad disassembled it and moved it to our house. Other than that, there was nothing. Video games did not exist. There were no personal computers, iPods, smart phones, or cable TV. There were no parks close by, or neighbor children for us to visit, and there was definitely no such thing as “child proofing” your house. Rather, the custom at that time was to “house proof” your child. There was nothing for children, except two grandparents who loved us beyond measure. They didn’t spend money on us, they spent time with us. They never had to tell us they loved us. The way they spoke to us, the way they smiled and laughed with us, the feeling of complete safety we felt in their presence told us they loved us. We knew they loved us. For them to say it would have been redundant.

Now that we have children, and a grandchild, of our own, I try to exhibit the same patience and love shown by Gramma and Grampa. Being human, there are times my efforts are not the glorious experience hoped for, but the important thing is to never give up trying to be a beacon of love. We must always remember the hearts of our children are not won by lavishing them with money or things. they are won by time and love. Without them, there is nothing for children.