I am a very fortunate person to have known my grandparents on both sides of my family. As a kid I always looked forward to going to my paternal grandparents (Oma and Papa) because I got spoiled rotten. I got cookies and candy and their house had all sorts of neat things from my grandparent's history that was really cool for a kid to figure out. It also helped they had a jacuuzi and a beautiful view.
Contrast this to what I experienced on the maternal side, looking back at my kid self I understand why I didn't look forwards to visiting my maternal grandmother "Ama." Where my paternal grandparents had a very inviting house with warm colors and a nice atmosphere Ama's house was stark white with lots of what I would call "fussy" things decorating it. I didn't get cookies or candy here, at least not the kind I liked, and my maternal grandmother while very loving was more strict and stern than my other grandparents.
Perhaps too was the nagging memory of the death of my maternal grandfather Howard when I was only five. The sorrow and lack of understanding I had of that time haunted me for many years.
Yet my grandmother was a remarkable person, and I think she is the one I owe most of my life as a writer to now. You see, my grandmother taught me to read, she taught me math, and she worked with me diligently on these things right up until she was diagnosed with Alzeimer's disease. I have memories of me sitting at a white table in her white kitchen, staring at a white wall and her drilling me on letters and numbers.
You can imagine what this was like for little me. I had to do "boring" stuff, school stuff. Yet my grandmother was patient with me, and she was smart. She knew I didn't like having to learn stuff, so she bribed me with stickers. I remember she had a little chart and whenever I got something done, I got a sticker. (My parents did the same thing with books.)
Ama loved me in a way I didn't recognize until I grew up. She instilled in me the discipline to do things, to work through things. While I still struggle today with a tendency to get things done really fast just so I can have free time, I still use her lessons today.
I still read the way she taught me to read and learned love of books from her lessons. I could not be a writer if I did not read, and I could not read if she did not help teach me.
There are many stories I could share about "Ama" like how she got her name, but I suppose I could share them another time. Thinking about her now, I miss her dearly. I remember the way she looked ,the perfume she wore, the kinds of coats and her other senses of style. Ama did many things that helped make me the man I am today, and for that I thank her. I only hope she looks down on me and is proud of her accomplishment in her grandson.