So Long, Grandma Red

I suppose it's not too many people who turn 50 with a grandparent still alive. That was the case for me, but sadly no more, as on April 30 at 4 a.m. by last grandparent, my maternal grandmother Dorothy, passed away. She was a few weeks short of her 92nd birthday and it was not unexpected, and she experienced a sad decline, including dementia and cancer in her jaw. As Shakespeare wrote in his Seven Ages of Man speech, the last role played is "second childhood."

This was particularly sad because Grandma Red (as she was known to the family, both as a shortening of her last name and her ever-present copper rinse--I never saw the woman with gray hair) was a vital woman. She and my grandfather, who died nine years ago, lived life with gusto. In many ways they were typical Midwestern suburbanites, but they enjoyed an adventurous life together, taking many trips abroad and having a variety of hobbies. I remember my grandmother collecting Hummel plates, some of them worth a pretty penny today.

When they lived in Dearborn, Michigan (they were both born and raised in Jackson, Michigan) their basement was a place of wonder for me as a small child. It was full of souvenirs of their trips, knick-knacks, curious, and tchotchkes that were fascinating to a little kid. They had a pool table, a built-in bar, and one of those rock fountains. It all bordered on the kitschy, but was marvelous to explore.

My grandparents also loved their four o'clock ritual of having martinis. It got to be something of a joke as the years wore on. At family gatherings Grandma made sure that there was plenty of vodka on hand. In the picture above, taken at her 90th birthday party, note the glass on the table with the tell-tale olive. When her health started to decline she was urged to give up the alcohol. She really missed having those martinis.

Dorothy was a registered nurse, in an era when there weren't too many working women. She worked at Oakwood Hospital in Dearborn, and passed the legacy on to both her daughters--my mother and her sister, who also became nurses (my aunt is still a nurse).

In their retirement they lived in Bradenton, Florida for thirty years, where they enjoyed their golden years and made the dutiful trips to DisneyWorld with the grandkids. A few years ago, though, my grandmother made the return to Michigan, too feeble to live on her own. My aunt, who still lives in the Detroit area, became her de facto caretaker, and she and her husband and daughter logged in many hours of care and attention that are much appreciated by the rest of the family. I was fortunate enough to pay her a last visit just at the beginning of this month on a visit to Michigan. She was frail and forgetful (although she seemed to recognize me), and in good spirits. It was a good last visit to remember her by.

When I was a little kid, I thought my grandparents were rich, because they took all those trips to Europe and Asia and they had so much stuff. They really weren't rich in that sense--they were working people (my grandfather worked for Chrysler and was unceremoniously forced into retirement into retirement in his fifties). But in another sense they were extremely rich, richer than the people on the Forbes list. They loved each deeply, and that showed to even a little kid like me. They loved and were loved by their family, and they were cheerful, gracious people.

Dorothy leaves behind three children, nine grandchildren, and seventeen great-grandchildren, who all will miss her very much.