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| Thanksgiving 1968, with "Grandma Lillie" |
My Mother’s Hands
By Judith Cullen
(c) 2014
When I was a little girl, family members of various
generations swore that I was the very image of my maternal Grandma. “That’s Lillie!” they would exclaim, and
reference her 8th grade graduation picture as proof of the likeness.
My Grandma was someone who appeared to be very much in
command of things. She was a strong
personality who always seemed to be the key decision
maker. My Grandpa, suffering
significantly from the onset of lung cancer when I knew him, was much softer
spoken. I remembered him best in his
recliner, and from the polished rocks he tumbled in his workshop.
I was proud to be likened to Grandma Lillie. For a long time I carried the image of that
sepia toned photo in my heart. If
Grandma was that strong and fierce, maybe I could be like that too. I didn’t see my individuality as threatened
by this connection. I loved my Grandma,
and looking like her was a confirmation that I belonged.
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| Grampa Cullen 1940s |
It also provided symmetry to our family. My sister was often likened to members of my
Dad’s family. So it seemed totally fair
in my young mind: Mom and Dad had not gotten
a boy and a girl, but they had still gotten “his” and “hers.”
I remember when my sister and I went to visit with our Aunt
Grace, my father’s sister. She commented
on Maura’s likeness to the “Cullen side” of the family. Then she turned to me and pointed out some
feature of mine that also harkened to that family. I was shocked! This did not align with my “his” and “hers”
composite of our visual lineage. I was
from the Bell-Betsinger side of things, wasn’t that apparent? What about that
sepia photo of Grandma Lillie at her 8th grade graduation?
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| Dad in the 1950s |
Years later, I wrote a series of stories based on tales my
father used to tell around the dinner table.
I published a photograph, a headshot of him in his Army uniform, as part
of promoting the book. The comparisons
were almost instant. “You look so much like your Dad.” Remarkably, I look at that photo and I see exactly
what they mean.
I have abandoned the concept of “his” and “hers.” I do know people whose appearance arrestingly
can stand comparison to a specific family member. However, for most of us I believe we are a
banquet of features, habits, gestures, and styles that reflect the diversity of
personalities that people our heritage.
I also have given up the idea that these things are static. I think we ebb and flow as time passes, and
that we respond to the roles that are required of us at any given moment.
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| Mom with Grandma and Grampa Bell |
When I was a child, and even a young woman, I was very much
like my Grandma Lillie. More so than I
even knew at the time. My grandma was a
hard worker and a passionate spirit who often let herself get worked up
emotionally. This was a side of her I had
never seen through my childlike view.
She and Grandpa were also a bit unconventional for their era. They
possessed a spontaneity that one does not often associate with ones own grandparents,
much less working class people from the mid-west. It turns out I was a lot more like Grandma
than I thought. As a young woman I too
had that same emotional amperage. I too worked with intensity.
Yet as I slog and skid my way through middle age, I find
that the comparison to my Father is completely apt for where I am now. Dad was a dreamer and had a poetic heart, for
an Engineer. He had a great capacity for
spatial problem solving, as do I. It is
a trait that has been passed along to his grandson, my sister’s child. I know
that Brandon ’s
natural smarts would make Dad so proud. He
also faced the enormous challenge of shifting careers and direction at middle
age. I know that particular parallel all
too well!
This connection also comes in the role I play in my own
family, especially now that I have moved back into the family home. I sit in the spot that was his at the kitchen
table. This was not a conscious choice,
yet it reflects some of the roles I now fulfill in my mother’s life and in the
household. I am very much like my Dad,
and very proud to be so. Grandma Lillie
has not entirely left me either.
We are the product of those we descended from – obvious,
latent. direct, oblique. That rich banquet of our heritage provides us with what
we need to face life when we need it, and we can become who we must be as a
result. The vast resources of
generations are pre-programmed into us - arming us for a world and a life we
cannot ever fully control.
When I embraced this idea, it changed my perspective and
opened my heart. I am still me, still a
unique blend of all those who came before me.
But now I sense them, standing with me – ready to offer me what they
can. They are mine. I am theirs. We face life together even
though most of them are long dead, and I don’t even know many of their names.
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| Mom and Me |
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Note: My Mother's Hands will
be published in my upcoming collection of Essays and Poems - Coffee
Shop Talk. Look for it on Amazon for Kindle and in Paperback.
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