March 28, 2024

The View from My Hill

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A few weeks ago I was chatting with my daughter and eldest granddaughter, catching up on the granddaughter’s new job and how her second year of college went, when I asked if the youngest granddaughter would like to go to the Gaspee Day Parade with us once again this year.

We have been taking at least one grandchild to the parade in Warwick for almost all of the last 18 years; a tradition that started with the now almost 20 year old grandchild sitting next to me.

So it was a complete surprise – ok to be honest, it was a shock – when she so innocently asked “what parade”. What parade?

The one we started taking her to when she was just shy of two years old. How could she not remember? Back then, since we didn’t know anyone who lived close enough to the parade route to park at their house, we had to park a mile or so away. We always brought along her red radio flyer wagon so we could pull her, our chairs, and all the various items a toddler would need for the three hours that we would be gone, down to our favorite viewing spot.

Indulgent grandparents that we are, we would always buy her a toy on a stick from one of the parade vendors who always seemed to be pushing their carts of over-priced balloons and stuffed animals and other varieties of plastic toys right in front of us. When she became a little older she was joined by her younger sister in the wagon. The first born grandchild was always well behaved – but when the second one came along, well let’s just say there was no sitting on the blanket for her! It got to a point that we realized she wasn’t interested in the parade and stopped going for a few years, until the third and fourth grandchildren came along. We have continued to bring any grandchild who was available (sports and birthday parties seemed to replace the parade as the thing to do). We loved, and still do love, to take our grandchildren to the parade and anywhere else.

For us, it is not just about the parade but about the memories we are creating to store in our hearts and theirs. Ours, to remember on those days that will come along sooner than we can even imagine when we will be sitting in a favorite chair with little more than our memories to keep us smiling. Theirs, to remember and make them smile when we are no longer around.
It has been so important to me to have this warehouse of memories for my grandchildren because of my own grandparent memories.

The youngest of six children, I was born to parents who were well into middle age when I came along. The only grandparent that I knew was in her late 70s when I was born and my memories are mostly of her sitting in her rocking chair speaking French to my mom.

Although I adored my grandmother, I don’t have a lot of memories of her and I wish I did. Of course I understand that it was because by the time I was born (the second youngest of her 20 something grandchildren) she was, well, tired.

On the other hand, when my first grandchild was born, I was only 44. When the last grandchild was born I was 54. I vowed that I would try and do as much with them as possible so they would have a bucketful of memories of us. Memories to store in their hearts, to make them smile when memories are all that remains.

So when my granddaughter uttered those words, that she didn’t remember going to the parade, my heart sank. Of course I quickly came to my senses, and realized that she doesn’t remember going to the parade because she was only a toddler. I know that she does have many other memories she can look back on – picking raspberries in our yard, sleepovers, Christmas cookies, our trips to New York City and New Hampshire.

It’s not the actual events that I need her to remember. What I want her to remember is the laughter and the love. Always the love. After all, even though I don’t remember a lot about my grandmother I do remember the love.

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