Little Nana

This morning I decided to start my day with meditation, previously a daily practice that I have neglected during the last several years.

Before I began, I asked assistance from my ancestor guides to help me select a subject that my blog followers would enjoy.

Upon completion of my meditation , I had nothing. I went downstairs to my kitchen, dropped a tea bag into my favorite mug and filled the red and white polka dot kettle. While waiting for the water to boil, I checked my Facebook page.

To give a bit of background; although I have only one sibling, my mother was one of 13 children, my dad was the eldest of 6, therefore, I am multi-blessed to have dozens of cousins.

Years ago, when my youngest cousin, Danny was organizing a family reunion, I created a cousins' page on Facebook.

Recently, our cousin Suzanne posted a photo of an item she received after our grandmother died. She asked if any of us remembered it.

The group responses opened a floodgate of memories for me and others of nana's grandchildren as they commented on objects from our grandmother's home.

Among them were the porcelain horse and carriage that Suzanne lovingly cherishes; the statue of Michelangelo's Pieta for Tommy; Chrissy has a knick-knack of singing nuns. My sister treasures nana's sewing box, and for me, the holy card of the face of Jesus on Veronica's veil that she kept in her bible, and a red Buddha incense burner. In my mind's eye, they were all back where nana had placed them.

Lost in thought, I began to visualize my grandmother's immaculately clean and organized home. I could hear the mantle clock ticking away time that was long gone. I smelled the warm aroma of beef barley soup on nana's stove, watching as she reached for 2 tea cups. The high-pitched whistles of our harmonizing kettles shattered my reverie, catapulting me into the present, but leaving me with lingering thoughts of my grandmother as I sipped my tea.

Bertha Veronica Rodgers was an impeccably dressed, stylish woman. She designed and made much of what she wore. Her petite figure gave no hint that she had birthed a number of babies measuring a baker's dozen. She was soft spoken and carried herself with the demeanor of a queen. She was beautiful in every sense of the word. My sister and I referred to her as our Little Nana.

Little Nana appreciated and introduced me to opera. Immediately, I loved it. As a small girl, I enjoyed sitting with nana and listening to red demo records discarded by a neighborhood record store. Afterwards, I would go home and close all of the bedroom doors in the narrow upstairs hallway of our row house, creating an echo chamber amplify my rendition of the Italian arias sung by skilled and gifted sopranos. Rigoletto was my favorite. God knows what fractured lyrics I was belting out as I performed La donna e mobile in that hallway opera theatre. My apologies to the unfortunate ears they fell upon.

Nana's husband died suddenly at age 56, leaving her with four boys still living at home. Their life together was a love story that ended much too soon. Nana always referred to my grandfather as "my John." She never remarried.

Nana was not a woman of means, nor was she educated. To my knowledge, she never completed elementary school due to her family situation. She came from a home where her father was a physically abusive drunk; and, perhaps fortunately, remained absent from the home over long periods of time. With no money coming in, nana's 2 younger brothers were placed into an orphanage. Nana helped with the house and I believe, found a job to help her mother with finances. Her mother's story is a sad one and I will write about her in my book. Taking in laundry for a living, she died in her 40's collapsing in the street. She was delivering clean laundry to the male students at the University of Pennsylvania and Drexel. If only she could know that within four generations, women would also attend those institutions; two of which would be her 4x great-granddaughters.

Lacking a formal education, my grandmother became an avid reader. She educated herself, absorbing the classics and books covering many subjects. However, that was not sufficient for her to get a good job. Eventually, she was hired as a cleaning woman at Holy Ghost Seminary where four of her cousins were priests. Getting to and from her job required walking several blocks to the bus in all kinds of weather. She never complained.

I was certainly aware that nana lived on a limited budget. For her birthday on the 4th of July, there was always a big gathering at her house. I didn't see piles of gifts for her, but rather cards with money handed to her by her married children as they kissed her hello.

I do not ever remember receiving Christmas or birthday gifts from her, nor did I expect to. So, imagine my surprise when she came to visit on my 13th birthday with a gift in hand.

It was 1954 and I was filled with anticipation as I lifted the lid marked Goodman's of Mayfair to find a pair of white bobby sox within the carefully folded tissue in the box. My grandmother was acknowledging my rite of passage into my teens. I was a bobby soxer. I loved and appreciated that she did that for me. To this day, that pair of sox remains one of the most remembered and treasured of any gifts that I have ever received.

I'm happy to say that nana lived long enough for my children to also share fond memories of her. Kathy mentioned recently that she recalls my little nana taking her to a movie at the Mayfair Theatre. To my kids she was Nanny Rodgers.

When she suddenly took leave of the earth, this extraordinary lady left no jewels or riches. She died in her 80's leaving a legacy much more valuable. The inheritance we received from her was how she lived her life. Her kindness, generosity of spirit, her work ethic and most important of all, her deep love and appreciation of family. These are her gifts to all of the generations that will follow her.

I mentioned above that before my meditation I'd asked the ancestor guides to inspire me and they gave me nothing. Well, upon completion of today's blog story, looks like they changed their collective minds.

Until next time,

JaJa

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