I had the urge to sit down and enjoy something I haven't in quite a while; something I've been too busy to do for the past four years. I wanted to watch the only soap opera I've ever payed any attention to--
Days of Our Lives.
I haven't had the noon-1pm hour off in quite some time. In high school and college, on a sick day or vacation, I tried to watch my old fav; but, since motherhood hit I have not really followed any of the story line. Despite my long-running
relationship with
Days, we split ways about 10 years ago, only running into one another on some of my off-days. But before I explain our
relationship, let me tell you about the woman who started it all- my Mema.
My maternal grandmother was as stubborn as any old -time German/Irish mix woman is. She had an unbelievable sweet tooth (yes I know where I get mine) and a knack for making noodles. She baked fabulous and unique cookies. She sang old songs I'd never heard while she worked--especially in the kitchen. She was in grade school during WWI. Became a teacher during the Great Depression. Witnessed the dust storms. Wrote her husband love-letters while he was stationed in the Pacific. Gave birth to a son while her husband was at sea. Moved to a small town in Kansas after living in San Diego. Completed her family with a daughter. Taught students in many subjects--even shorthand. And loved her
grand kids family dearly.
Now, back to my
relationship with this daytime drama. It started when--well, I really can't remember when, but I know that if I was around my Mema this show was on. Seriously, I can remember comparing
Days to
Sesame Street- back when I watched
Sesame Street because I liked it and not because my kids liked it. And Mema was around a lot--probably more than most grandmothers.
She spent many winter months with my mom, sister and me. Since I didn't have a father in my life much, I always think of her as my second parent. She could be stern and mean business, but she was still my grandma; the one who spoiled me and loved me even more when I misbehaved. And I know that she'd often stick up for me to my mom after some of that misbehaving I did. Sorry mom, but I think now you understand that whole "grandma= protector of the grand kids" thing.
I also spent many summer hours with my Mema in her little town-- the kind of town where hot days are spent at the pool, riding a bike, or looking for just about anything to do. So much of my time there was unstructured free-play, but not the lunch hour.
As noon approached, Mema, my sister, and I walked across the street for our date at the Senior Center for lunch. When we walked into the building, the familiar cafeteria-smell greeted us. In all honesty, the food was usually pretty good-
mmmmm giant cinnamon rolls. We sat at a long table surrounded by Mema's friends-- and she had many of them. They'd talk to us as if we were also their grandchildren--friendly chat about our activities and the previous school year. And for the next 45 minutes, the three of us enjoyed the good company and good food.
By 1pm, our time at the Center was over with for the day. After saying our goodbyes, we'd join hands with Mema and walk across the street to home. We had to be home by 1-
that's when Days came on.
Mema would find her favorite recliner situated directly in front of the television while sis and I found a seat nearby. Soon after the t.v. was on, that same ol' hourglass appeared against the blue background. The same ol' man's voice came on to introduce our show while the same ol' music chimed away. And for the next hour we watched Mema's "program." That's what she called it.
Over the years,
Days always found its way onto our t.v. if Mema was around. I can remember asking her, "Are you going to watch your program today," and she'd reply that she didn't really care to watch "that silly show." Yes folks, "her program" had suddenly turned into "that silly show." She claimed to not care about it because it was so ridiculous (for any fans out there this was during the time when Marlena was possessed), but somehow she always managed to make sure she was watching despite its flaws.
She continued her fascination with this show until her mind didn't work the way it used to. By the time I was in college, she started having mini-strokes which could affect her personality at times. She was still our Mema, even when she wasn't being her
silly show- watching self. It was hard to watch the many moods of my grandma, some which I didn't recognize and some which I greeted with open arms. Though it was hard at times, I visited her in the nursing home where we'd talk about many things.
One of my favorite conversations with her at this time was about Shakespeare. I was in a Shakespeare class at KU and Mema loved her some Shakespeare. She read it in her youth. She taught it to her literature students. She memorized it for herself, or for the love it-- I'm not sure. She repeated it out loud to no one in particular. I think she may have even eaten it for desert a time or two. Just listening to her talk about one of her passions was a thrill to that 19-year old girl-- especially in hindsight.
Unfortunately, not long after that conversation, Mema passed away-- seven years ago today. I always like to remember my Mema on this day. I know I could go read Macbeth, make some noodles, or even sing an old song as I worked in the kitchen; but for some reason, all I want to do is watch our show. As silly as it may sound, I feel close to her when I do this-- I suppose it's because it became such a ritual for us.
A grandma is a very special gift that God gave us. I knew it then, but I hate that I didn't cherish it then. I was just living life and I didn't understand what taking someone or something for granted meant. Now, as an adult, I look back on our time together and understand just how fortunate I was to have her with me for 19 years. Even better, I get to watch my own children love and cherish their grandmas-- and vice versa, of course!
