Lessons From Grandma Sally

Let’s start today’s post with a thought experiment:

What life lessons have you learned from your grandparents?

I chose that question because Sally Freedman, my grandmother, passed away a few weeks ago at the ripe old age of 91. She was my last living grandparent. I take solace in the fact that it was peaceful, and that she was surrounded by her family. Her services this past weekend were the perfect mixture of sadness and celebration. I think we all got the closure we needed, but even so, I am only just beginning to reflect on the impact she had on me.

Sally was a teacher. She taught elementary school and was a learning disabilities specialist; her masters degree is in Reading Disabilities. So as an educator, it makes perfect sense that she taught me lessons about love, parenting, and life in general. At age 30, as I think about my own future and what the next 61 years may look like, it only seems fitting to reflect on some of these lessons.

So here are a few stories about Sally Freedman, and the three most significant lessons she taught me:

Lesson #1: There’s no challenge you cannot overcome.

Sally was a young girl growing up during the depression. We often heard stories – particularly if we did not eat everything on our plate – of what life was like then. She grew up in Aberdeen, South Dakota, where food was scarce, life was stressful, and for nearly a decade, there was no end in sight.

This experience clearly affected her for the rest of her life. She was excellent at saving and reusing just about anything. We would tease her about washing used plastic silverware to save for a future meal, but when I stop to think about where that habit came from, I instantly feel put back in my place (and rightfully so). We take a lot for granted, but she certainly never did.

She later moved to Chicago, where she met the first love of her life, Jack Doyle, and had three daughters. Tragically, while her children were still very young, Jack succumbed to illness and passed away after roughly three years of treatment. It was probably the biggest challenge she ever faced in her life, and just the sheer thought of it is one of my personal nightmares.

I asked her once how she managed to get through that time, and her response was just as pragmatic as she was. Her answer was simple; she had three girls to raise. Period. She accepted help along the way, largely from her community at her Unitarian Church, although I find it hard to believe that she asked for it. Thankfully though, they surrounded her with support, and she was able to make it through.

One of the friends that supported her in her time of need was Arthur Freedman, or as I like to call him, Grandpa Art. Sally and Art were married shortly thereafter; Art had two sons from his previous marriage to my Grandma Virginia (one of them named Peter – yay dad!) and they had one more son together. Pretty soon, they were quite the modern family, and I would be lucky enough to have five grandparents instead of four.

I am confident that when she first moved to Chicago she never imagined her life would end up looking like it did, but I am equally confident that she is grateful that it did. No matter what seemingly insurmountable challenge lied ahead of her, she faced it with unwavering pragmatism and hopeful optimism; a lesson we can all learn from.

Lesson #2: Know your story.

In addition to being an educator, Grandma Sally was a storyteller. She was an author – my personal favorite is a children’s book she wrote called Devin’s New Bed. Devin is my cousin, and my sister Katie and cousin Anthony are two of the main characters. Devin has to transition from his crib to a big boy bed and he doesn’t like it…they all jump on it and chaos ensues…etc. That’s all fine, but the BEST part of the book is an adorable little (unnamed), baby girl at the very end who will inherit Devin’s crib. She really steals the show :).

Ok, so my mom was still pregnant when Sally wrote it, but despite the fact that I don’t have a name in the book I consider myself to be a pivotal character nonetheless.

Anyhoo, in addition to her professional writing, Sally was also our family’s personal record keeper. She would write annual newsletters to her six children and many grandchildren explaining the momentous – and oftentimes mundane – events that happened in all of our lives that year. This was essential because my family is spread out all over; we are in Maine, Massachusetts, Oregon, California, Illinois, Indiana, and even Australia. Depending on the year, many of us have lived in countless other states and countries as well. She knew that no matter where life was taking us individually, it was important to be connected to each other.

Lesson #3: Find joy in the small things.

Grandma Sally had her fair share of adventures. She road tripped throughout the country more times than any of us could count, she travelled the world with my Grandpa Art, and she reinvented her career more than once. But despite all of this, I believe if I could ask her now, she would say the things that gave her the most joy in life would be the little things. From my perspective, she was excellent at living in the present.

My cousin Caitlin told me about a time when Grandpa Art brought her home some chocolates unexpectedly; her face lit up and she exclaimed, “You DO love me!!!”. I wasn’t there, but I can picture her saying that so vividly. The things that excited her the most were things like getting a new picture of one of her great grandchildren to hang on her wall or just hearing about what was going on in our lives. My favorite expression of hers was, “What fun!”, which she said to just about anything.

If you read this blog you probably can tell that I tend to think about the future a lot. Sometimes, perhaps a bit too much. So I will do my best to think about the here and now. The small things.

To close, although this experience has been bittersweet, I have managed to find joy in it, just as Sally would want. I wish it were under different circumstances, but I am thankful to have had this time to consider all she taught me, as well as lessons from my other four grandparents. They all showed different ways of living and enjoying life, and I have gained something from each of them.

I hope I never forget the small details about her; her gold french horn necklace, the sound of her voice singing “There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Liza” around a campfire, the colorful rings she wore on each hand. But most importantly, I hope I never forget the lessons.