Grandparents’ Day seems to scroll through social media as quickly as a bunch of hens running after a rooster.
We celebrate or pay homage to all sorts of things – National Hamburger Day, Take Your Dog To Work Day, Talk Like A Pirate Day, and even, National Ice Cream Day.
Grandparents’ Day when I was growing up meant taking the grandparents a present or making them a card or going to take them out to eat. It was one Sunday a year – but it happened.
Now, on the rare occasion that there is time – there might be a school activity – like Breakfast or Lunch with Grandparents.
But it gets outshined by other events – including Sept. 11, as we pay tribute to victims and heroes from the 9/11 attacks.
Not saying we shouldn’t NOT pay tribute and remind ourselves about 9/11, but I think we need to give our grandparents a little more respect.
Without my grandparents, James and Frances Madison (pictured here) or Tullie and Lois Holland, the family that I know – the blood connections I have, wouldn’t be who and what they are.
Grandpa Holland was the oldest. He was a good man – loved working outside and had a great green thumb. He grew peanuts, corn, blueberries and scuppernogs, oh and sweet potatoes. Grandpa used to talk to himself a lot. He introduced me to coffee (Sanka with a little canned milk) and the principle of hard work.
Grandma Holland lived longer than the rest of my grandparents. She was raised ‘old-school’ – the woman was meant to be in the kitchen, and skills the woman had learned – housekeeping and sewing. There were certain protocols that Grandma believed in holding on too – and that is what I learned from her – routine.
Grandpa Madison – with his big ears and bald head and goofy smile was the best. He was a minister and he loved the Lord and loved people. He was the one who could talk to anyone, show care and compassion and his prayers – they were sermons within themselves. From Grandpa, I think I got my ability to talk and listen.
Grandma Madison – now she was my best friend. She loved so unconditionally. Now mind you, she was honest and spoke her mind. She knew how to listen from her heart. Grandma was the fixer. She knew how to fix a boo boo and a broken heart. From Grandma, I learned love.
Though my grandparents are not here, and I was there when three of four died, (In fact, I was in the ER room as they pronounced my Grandma Madison as passing. ) I still to this day celebrate what they gave us – more than our names – they gave us pride, strength, and different character qualities.
So happy Grandparents Day in Heaven! I love you all to the moon and back.
Becky Holland/TCM INK