Today would have been Margaret Clara Melley’s 100th birthday. She died 4 years ago. She always wanted to make it to 100 so she could get a letter from the President. This is my tribute to my grandma (a.k.a Gram or G.G.) for Kevin and my family. I know it’s too long to be a blog and too short to be a book. But I wanted you to have something in writing about her so it’s a ‘blook’. :-D
My Grandmother Melley was extraordinary to me. She would have considered herself ordinary by any standards. She was born on March 15th 1912 (the year the Titanic sank, as she always reminded me). Her mother, Clara Amelia Baening (Boening) was German, and her father Walter Weir Rayburn was Scottish and French. Gram had two brothers and one sister. Her father worked as an engineer for the Illinois Central Railroad. He fell off the top of an icy engine during the winter and fell into a grease pit. He became a paraplegic and died a few years later. Gram was too young to remember him. If asked “was it hard to grow up without a father”, she would say, “it’s all I knew.” Gram would tell me her mother was a ‘Saint’ for taking loving care of her husband and children with no help. They grew up in an era that is soon to be forgotten, except by Internet searches and history books. Their spirit of forging a humble life through the most modest means with little distractions has passed. Gram saw it all through the 20th century.
I loved listening to her stories. She remembers when the World War I soldiers passed by on the trains. The soldiers would hang out the windows during the switching of the freight trains. Gram would say, “Nothing was too good for our boys.” So they would run to the house or little store to get the soldiers candy or cookies. And when the war was over, paperboys ran through the neighborhood streets yelling, “Extra, extra read all about it. The war is over!” She used to say that people were more excited by news back then because they were not saturated with news all day and night. She sang little ditty’s that I never heard before but meant something to her: My Buddy (a war song), Let the Rest Of The World Go By, Daisy, Daisy. But the one I loved the most was, I Love You A Bushel and a Peck.
Gram married William Robert Melley. They had three children (Janet, Jean (my mother) and Bobby). When they got married they observed an old world tradition called ‘Shivarie’. When couples got married they returned home from the church to be greeted by the neighbors on the front porch. The kids would bang pots and pans and the married couple would throw out handfuls of dimes to the children. It was nostalgic for her. Gram became a widow after my grandfather died of a sudden heart attack in the late 1950’s at Greyhound Bus where he worked. Left to raise three children on her own (just like her mother before her) my Gram worked two jobs and persevered and ‘did the best she could.’ I used to say she was the original single mother. Taking care of herself and her children taught her a few things: “I just had to get up and do it or it wouldn’t get done. And I always had $5000 saved for emergency.”
She was so intelligent—well read in all the classic literature, art, history, and some politics and religion (though religious she was not). She traveled all over the world beginning in her sixties. When she was in grade school there was a painting on the wall called the ‘Angelus’ by Jean Francois Millet. With passion she would say, “I loved that painting and felt so connected to it” It showed two peasants, a man and a woman, standing in the field with bowed heads in prayer over their basket of food. Many years later Gram went to Paris and went to the Louvre to see the ‘Angelus’ in person. She said, “I gazed at the original and studied the brush stokes and felt a wondrous fulfillment-so satisfied to see my beloved painting again.” When she was in her early eighties, she went to Russia all by herself. I used to spend hours listening to her recount her trips in detail and looking through her travel log albums of each trip. She worked hard and saved all her money so she could travel. She even took me to Washington D.C. for a week so we could take our time taking in all the history of our National Capitol.
Gram was extremely patriotic. The 4th of July was her favorite holiday. She was proud that my brother Rich served in the Air Force during the Gulf War. He was often stationed all over the world, so they had traveling the world in common too.
Gram moved from Evergreen Park to the city (Chicago) in 1974 into a high-rise building affectionately called ‘Grandma’s Village’ by my brother Mike. Being suburban kids who lived in a 2-story Raised Ranch, looking out over Lake Michigan in a 20-story building seemed amazing. Mike wouldn’t look out the window but Richie and I would press our noses to the window and look out over the city in awe, trying to feel the building sway (just a little). As a little boy, Mike remembers when he slept over at G.G.’s apartment for the first time. She was tucking him into bed and then she turned around and walked over to her dresser and took off her wig. Mike was freaked out that she took off her hair. We all were a little ‘wigged out’ as kids when Gram would leave her hairpieces all over the place.
Gram was a self described ‘women’s libber’. She admired strong women like Helen Keller, Amelia Earhart, or Eleanor Roosevelt. She remembers when women and children didn’t have rights. And if she thought a child was being abused or a man was being a ‘jackass’ for keeping a woman in her place, she’d give you her two-cents. When she lived on the north side of Chicago she worked as a secretary until she was 77 years old for Quaker Oats. On her days off she would try to help rehab the Edgewood Community and clean it up. When she moved in there were drug dealers in the neighborhood and the elderly would get mugged. There was no police protection or street cleaning. She would go down every week to the City Counsel to represent her neighborhood (i.e., to complain) about absentee landlords. I laughed when she told me that one of the police had the ‘nerve’ to ask her why she was living there. “I told him!” I bet he got an ear full. Over time, the community was improved. If Gram was younger, I could have seen her running for alderman.
Having the opportunity to go visit Gram in the city was thrilling. My two brothers and I were put on the train (all by ourselves) and sent to the city where our grandmother met us at Union Station with jovial laughter and hugs. We would spend time going to the beach, the zoo, all the museums, gorging on oatmeal raisin cookies and deep-dish pizza at Ginos.
She always wanted to inspire and educate her grandchildren. For the Bicentennial celebration in 1976 she took us to see the tall ship called the ‘Christian Radich’ (I think because it was in the movie ‘The Windjammer’). We stood in line for 5 blazing hot summer hours to walk on a ship for 5 minutes. She always spent time with us one on one. My brother Rich got to see the Air & Water show. Mike was taken to the Museum of Science and Industry (Gram did a lot of sitting and watching Mike). Becky was taken to Lincoln Park Zoo. And I was taken to the Art Institute. We all were taken to the theater.
Because Gram worked for Quaker Oats she would say, “Eat all your oatmeal and grandma will get a raise!” So we ate every bite of oatmeal (including her famous ‘secret’ oatmeal cookies. Which we learned as adults was only the recipe on the back of the oatmeal box). If we were good, she would perform her rendition of the ‘Can Can’ while eating breakfast. We always were good. There is nothing more hilarious than seeing your grandmother kicking her legs up as high as she’s able then shaking her skirt like she was in Vaudeville.
The first week Kevin was born, Grandma Melley was there to help me take care of us once I got out of the hospital. I was so blessed and calmed to have her there with me. She delighted over Kevin from the moment she held him in her arms. From that day forward, she became affectionately known as G.G. (great grandmother). Later after I remarried, she enjoyed Adam, Sarah, and April and thought they were such delightful children—which they were. She thought April was the funniest monkey, hanging all over her and making G.G. laugh. Sarah was living G.G.’s dream teaching high school English and Theater. When Adam’s son, Tyler, was born, she loved hearing all the ‘baby’ updates (since her eye sight was going).
Kevin was privileged to know his great grandma for two decades. In past generations, most people never had the opportunity to know their grandparents because they didn’t live that long-let alone their great grandparents. I felt special to know my grandmother all of my life, and I’m thankful that Kevin got to know her too. Not many people get to learn the historical past in their own biological family. Since G.G. was born in 1912, she saw every innovation of the 20th century. She told us about the first time she listened to the radio, ate pizza, saw a ‘talkie’ motion picture, took a ride up in a bi-wing barnstormer plane, used penicillin, watched TV, used a typewriter, a calculator, electric wash machine and dryer, drove a car, and flew in a jet all for the first time. G.G marveled at everything. She always told me, “Life is what you make it. What’s the alternative?”
We would go see my grandma once a month when she lived in the city (later every two weeks after she got sick and lost her short term memory). We brought her flowers each time we came to visit because she told us once that she didn’t want anyone to bring her flowers when she died. “If you couldn’t give flowers to the person when they were alive, why bother when they are dead.” Gram had a point. She always had a point.
She loved us all ‘a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck’. G.G. would greet us with an enveloping hug like you just came home from a long safari and she couldn’t wait to hear all about your adventures. She blessed us with praise whenever she saw something worthy. She would always remind me during Kevin’s teenage years, “He has goodness in him, I know goodness when I see it”. What was amazing to me was how relaxed she was around young people. I’d wonder what this proper lady would say the times Kevin or April would dye their hair, or when he pierced his ear, or got a tattoo, or wore baggy clothes. As long as you were polite, respectful, and clean, she loved the ‘young kids’. In fact, she got a kick out of them.
We often went to Shakespeare plays together-Gram’s treat. We usually had front row tickets for Hamlet (because G.G. was hard of hearing). Once the actors pulled Kevin up on stage and he hammed it up for a minute. G.G. loved it because she was the biggest ham of them all-staring in many plays at the Admiral On the Lake (a residence for seniors). There is a scene where the ghost of Hamlet’s father appears to him to tell him that he’s been murdered. The kings parting words to his son, Hamlet, were “Remember me!” After G.G. died, Kevin put the letters G.G. in the eyes of his koi-fish tattoo (which is on his arm) to remember her.
Kevin says that in many ways he’s who he is today because of G.G. When she moved from Grandmas’ Village to the Admiral On the Lake (which was just across the street), Kevin became a soup aficionado because of eating at the Admiral dining room with GG. Her pet name for him was Soup Kid or The Kid—it must have been a generational recognition. If we talked on the phone she’d ask, “How’s the Kid?” If we were at her apartment she’d say, “Make yourself at home and get yourself a pop Kid. Do you want a piece of milk chocolate Kid? Turn on the television Kid and watch something you’re interested in.”). Kev learned to get along with people older than himself and would have unique conversations with people 6x his age. He said, “G.G. always made me feel like her equal in her presence.” She trusted him. He didn’t need to be watched every second or corrected. However, if we went out to eat, manners were important to G.G: chew with your mouth closed, napkin on your lap, be polite to the waiters or bus boys. Kevin was always apart of the conversation, but he must wait his turn to speak and not interrupt. Even Kevin could see she was a strong, independent woman, well traveled, full of fun, and loving towards her friends and family.
Her boisterous laugh and great sense of humor is a genetic trait. Her trademark was how she could be the life of the party and the audience all in one. At lunch, she sat with the fun crowd and you could always hear G.G. throughout the dining room. I have the same genetic loud laughter (I catch myself sometimes, including slapping my knee or someone else’s knee). Gram called my sister Becky ‘giggle puss’ because she was always laughing too. But Becky was laughing at Gram (we all laughed with Gram). If I had to pick what I miss most about my grandma, I’d say it’s her laughter (luckily I recorded her on tape and in video so I’ll always have it to remember).
My husband Rich always says that she never lost the joy or wonder of being a little child. She was the oldest little girl we knew. The way she would eat a cheeseburger, or drink a strawberry shake, or eat pie—like it was the first time she had ever tasted one, enjoying every morsel and drop. She was always grateful for food. Maybe that’s because she had so little as a child. Getting an orange in your Christmas stocking was a big deal to her (I always felt humbled knowing I asked for a stereo for Christmas). If you gave her a present, she would carefully unwrap it and screech with delight at whatever you got her, “Oh, how did you know? You always pick the perfect gift! You really know me.” She loved parades, the zoo, and the movies. She loved hats and dressing up for parties. I love all those things too because of her. Gram loved my husband Rich. I think she had a schoolgirl crush on him because he paid such doting attention to her and they had such interesting conversations together.
Gram had the conscience of a child. If she did something wrong, or even told a story about something she had done wrong decades ago, she did so with a genuine sense of shame and candid admission of her faults. Yet she’d state, “It’s just easier to be good than bad. I could never be bad because I’m not that smart. You have to have your wits about you to be bad. It’s not worth it.”
I know when people die, they often get promoted to ‘halo or saint status’. G.G. was not a saint. She had her faults. I saw them more as she got older and her short-term memory faded. Once Kevin and I saw her outright reject her friend Polly for not coming to visit her. “She’s not my friend. Not now, maybe later.” We had to tell her that Polly was just there for a visit, we saw her. But G.G. had already forgotten and it caused her many problems. She had a temper like a little child. If she got mad or upset (which was very rare) she would pout, and become stubborn (Hmm? I wonder where I got that trait?). She got hurt easily and didn’t have the skills to work through conflict and resolve issues—so she typically avoided conflict resolution altogether. I’m sure she saw our faults too, but loved us anyway. That’s what family does. Another time she completely turned her back on me when I told her she was being unfair and less than kind to someone in the family. It took a long time to coax her out of her sullen mood. We all have two sides of our personalities when we are triggered, insecure, jealous, fearful, or angry. The older I got, I saw those two-sided personality days. It impacted me deeply to see her be unkind or unfair once in a while. It actually rocked me to realize that my beloved grandmother had feet of clay.
In fact, before she lost her short-term memory, there were two years where I privately wrestled with how Gram’s flaws impacted our entire family (including me). For a couple of years I was secretly angry with her and wanted to have hard honest conversations about our family issues (and her part in them). And yet, not all of the family dynamics were her fault. I just didn’t know how I could make our family whole without her help. I was never going to hold a mirror up to G.G. and get her to look at herself. I knew she wasn’t open to discussing things that were broken. That is the family rule: You don’t disagree ‘or else’ (‘or else’ usually means people walk off into the sunset or you’re written off). I never understood that and that’s what made me mad. In my mind, if you have a problem, you process it fairly on both sides. That thinking was naive of me (I tend to think anything can be worked out with humility and love.) G.G. never knew I needed to process my feelings, or that I was angry with her for not being proactive as the matriarch of our family. I showed up every month anyway and was blessed when I learned to look past her faults. It taught me to choose to move forward when things get rough in any relationship. My mantra is talk it out and everyone be nice or just let it go ‘for Pete sake’.
G.G was the one person who invested in me and always made me feel like she wanted me around. Hours would pass in the garden, down by Lake Michigan, or in her little studio apartment talking about everything under the sun. The day my 80-something year old grandmother told me ‘I like sex’ I knew we were related (we laughed until we cried). No topic was taboo. We are so similar in many ways. She was spunky and outspoken. You’d get her opinion or advice even if you didn’t ask for it. And even though I didn’t get some defined religious legacy or blessing passed down to me. I learned how religious people could hurt people (so much so that they won’t trust religious people or institutions). She had the faith of a mustard seed, and my understanding is that this is all that is required in God’s mind.
Today (March 15, 2012) we had Rainbow Ice Cream shipped overnight from the Southside of Chicago. But not just any ole ice cream: Orange sherbet, pistachio, Palmer house vanilla w/cherries and walnuts, strawberry, and chocolate all in one. I still have the porch pad we used to sit on in Evergreen Park as we eat our ice cream (after we ate all of our dinner of course). Tonight--in your honor G.G.--Mike and I will eat cheeseburgers and devour our Rainbow ice cream tonight. I know that you’d laugh at me for singing the song you taught us as kids “I scream, you scream, we all cream for ice cream.”
In the last 4 years since my grandma has been gone, I miss those geyser eruptions of joy the moment you walked in the door. I miss Gram’s cackle laugh. I miss her lily of the valley scent. I miss her hands (they were soft and fragile). I miss her praise. I miss telling her about Kevin or my life. I miss her saying, “Kimmie, you are a treasure” (I heard her say that to everyone.) I miss all our talks about the historical past and the present. I miss her encouragement. I am beyond grateful to God that I got to be apart of her life for 44 years and how she influenced me.
“So Lord, tell G.G. Happy 100th Birthday from me. And that I love her a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck, and that I will always remember her.”
