my lady liberty

In my early childhood, I spent many idyllic days with my paternal

grandmother. The things that inspire me most, I can trace back to

this dear woman. For instance, my uncles tell me that I've inherited

her ability to artistically arrange things, like tablescapes. I have to

be careful not to turn every surface in the manor into some sort of

dramatic scene. I have fond memories of tagging along with her, to

an empty church on a Saturday afternoon, and watching her arrange

a beautiful altarscape. She used fresh flower cuttings from her

garden, rich fabrics, and an assortment of odd antiques for her

unique creations.
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Speaking of flowers, I've also inherited her green thumb. Grandma

adored plants of all kinds. Local people would drive around her

corner lot, in the rural Indiana village of Burlington, extra slowly, just

to admire her glorious flowers, little fish pond, and fountain. One of

my favorite memories is helping her gather dandelion greens along

cornfield lined country roads. She taught me how to do essential life

tasks, like how to bait a fishhook with a nightcrawler at Wildcat

Creek.

Lazy afternoons, I sat by her side, as she peeled mountains of apples

for homemade pies. She wouldn't make just one. Her kitchen became

a pie factory, baking six or eight at a time. The charming fern pattern,

I watched her make in the crusts, with the tip of a teaspoon, I still use

to decorate my pies today. While the pies were cooling, I would

snuggle on her lap and listen to generous portions of the delightful

Hoosier poet, James Whitcomb Riley.

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Even though she could play the piano beautifully, she rarely did, but

insisted her children, my aunt and uncles, practice daily, with much

chiding and an occasional slap with the fly swatter. All the classics,

along with Chopsticks, of course, were indelibly embedded in my

little head. A daily dose of classical music is a must for me, to

chase the cobwebs away, and feel a sense of balance.

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A year or two ago, I was randomly obsessed with Boris Pasternak

and all things Russian. I reread Doctor Zhivago, and bought both the

Lean, 1969 version and the HBO, 2002 series. When I mentioned

this to my uncle, he said it happened to be Grandma's favorite

movie, that she was crazy about Lara's Theme, and even had a little

music box that played the song. "Oh, I didn't know." I said, DNA

tingling. She would get such a kick out of my Zhivago hat. I can see

her smiling, and trying it on for size.

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So, what, you're wondering, does the Statue of Liberty have to do

with this post? For me, Grandma's striking features favored those of

Lady Liberty's, and the souvenir statue she kept on her roll top desk.

Sadly, she died three days after her 56th birthday, when I was just

13. I regret she never knew the woman I grew to become, and was

not around to enjoy my lovely family. She will, however, always be

my Lady Liberty, lifting her symbolic ancestral lamp, giving me the

freedom and insight to embrace all she inspired in me.

This is a Sepia Saturday post.