There a lot of traditions and rituals that we have with the twins. Bluebells being the most obvious one. We have smaller ones – the twins eat a big cooked breakfast every Saturday and Sunday. In the evening we watch Abney and Teal together. I put together an unashamedly sentimental slide show for their birthdays. And we have our bedtime rituals which include singing a refrain of “Goodnight, Sweetheart” (yes really) and me constantly checking on them once their asleep.
Sometimes I wonder if my desire for traditions falls in line with the near-desperate feeling to keep things as stable and secure for the twins as possible. Their life is a bastion of security and warmth. There is no need to be so, well…religious about wanting normalcy for them. First of all, their life is normal. Secondly, there is no such thing as normal.
When I was a kid, we’d visit my great-grandparents in Des Moines. My great-grandparents lived in a little house in the city, although when they’d moved in as newlyweds it was to a house set in the countryside (which reminds me so much of this book that it’s unreal). They were giving and loving people, and as I age my memories fade of them. Some things I will always remember – there was a doorframe in their home that had the measurement heights and ages of their children, grand-children, and great-children as we all aged. My great-grandma had a perpetual and dizzying array of condiments in the middle of their kitchen table at all times.
And my great-grandma had a dresser in the kitchen, with drawers filled to the brim with jewelry.
She would let us play with it, strange and marvelous things, costume jewelry, real pieces, you name it. I don’t remember anything being off limits, and there was any number of things to tuck on fingers, drape on your wrists, and clip over your ears.
One thing always stuck out, though.
My great-grandma had lots of strings of what we called pop beads. They were brightly colored and ridiculously long in my memory, however my memory is of course stuck at a young age with these memories. Maybe they’re regular length. Regardless, all of the grandchildren and great-grandchildren had photos taken of them positively swimming in said necklaces. I don’t have a photo of them, and as a result of things being the way they are, they’ll always be a snapshot in my mind – me wearing layers upon layers of pop beads in peacock layers of purple, blue and green.
When my great-grandma died she was survived by my great-grandpa. He wasn’t really altogether in those years and their possessions were set upon by greedy survivors who lived in the area, as it the usual in most families. I know my side of the family made it there, and I know that they managed to save a few items from the hordes. Those pop beads were rescued, I know.
Last year while in the States I asked for the pop beads to be sent to my Dad’s house, just so that I could let the twins see them, let them hold them, let them try them on. I wouldn’t have kept them, I swore it (and I meant it). I even offered a deposit. My requests were met with deaf ears and I guess to some extent I get that. Why trust me with them?
But of all the traditions out there that I would want for the twins from traditions I knew, the pop beads were amongst them.
It’s ok. It is. We make new traditions, and it’s good. New things are good, as long as they’re happy, secure, stable things.
Sometimes, I just wish they could know a moment of my great-grandma.
And maybe someday, they’ll understand her through my eyes and the handful of photos I have of her.
-S
361 days.
PS – tomorrow, a new post is up here from me.
My great-grandmother was one in a million. Even in her 80′s, she never left her room in the early morning without dressing and putting on her jewelry, and doing her hair. They lived in the country on a working farm, so it wasn’t as if she had to dress every day. I wish I had something of hers and I wish my children could have known her and my grandmother too. They were very strong women; survivors in every sense of the word – and I really wish the women and girls in my family today could know and be proud of that.
Things were…slightly contentious when my mom’s mom died. There are 3 children and 9 grandchildren, and splitting things up became difficult. We had grown up using some awesome smiley-face glasses for drinking at Grandma’s house (among other things, milk and Pepsi). I asked my aunt for one of those because it held memories for me. My aunt said that since there weren’t enough glasses for everyone (there are only 6), I could have the whole set. I don’t know if anyone else knows I have them.
I’m only a few hours from Iowa…do you need me to stage a raid? :)
“a” just reminded me of how I got my husbands grandfather’s jazz records. When my husband and I first started dating I found a kindred spirit in his grandfather who loved big bands, smoking (I’ve long since quit) and good scotch. My husband would often drop me off there on Saturday afternoons in winter on his way to work and then come back to fight through a smoke filled room (with Glenn Miller playing full blast) to pour me into his car and take me home. When it became clear Pop was dying he asked me to take the records home with me. To this day I assume the extended family presumt they were thrown out or sold long ago. On rainy afternoons I’ll still occassionally put a record on and sip a glass of scotch and I know who’s listening too.
Thanx for sharing. Beautiful and touching.
That was a really lovely tribute to your great-grandparents. I’m sure wherever they are, they are smiling. Your post brought back some memories of my own mom’s jewelry box and how we’d dress up in her jewelry (as well as her old dresses from the 60′s) when we were kids. Nice memories, those.
no great-grandparents in my family… And no more grandmothers after I was twelve. However when my grandfather died (97!) there were still pretty dresses in her wardrobe. 50s-60s.
Sometimes I wear one of them still. And I believe the cotton is of such quality it will outlive any other dresses I have. Who knows, might outlive me too…
Sorry about the beads. I’ll keep them in the back of my mind….
http://www.ebay.com/itm/40-FEET-of-Pastel-POP-BEADS-Hours-of-Fun-/140268457895?pt=LH_DefaultDomain_0&hash=item20a8a6cfa7
These right? I remember them from my childhood. Mine weren’t pastel, they were bright colors but the concept is the same.
I currently live outside of Des Moines, I have been here my whole life, so it is odd to hear you talk about it from so far away but the stories you tell, remind me so much of what it has been like to live here. I currently live in my grandparents house and I can still remember playing dressup with my grandma’s old jewlery & clothes.
Though I was young when my grandparents died, I had a very clear concept of what I wanted to remember them by: the Picasso print, the hideous brown blankets, and the recipes. Though they nearly met their demise at the hands of certain pragmatic family members, I was finally reunited with all of them, and to this day, despite many washes, the blankets still smell like my grandmother and retain their magical powers of repelling monsters, ghosts, and icky things.
I hope the pop beads eventually make their way to you. I have to tell you, though, in my imagination, they’re like those strands of seaweed with the little pockets you can pop, but shiny and not all slimy. I’m guessing that is not the case, but I am now dying to pop some seaweed. Or bubble wrap.
I so remeber pop beads.My daughters LOVED them. And when they did thier POP thing beads beads went everywhere.
Thanx for the memories of two very loved daughters loving thier pop beads.