Mary B. Staley

I’ll never have the time, talent, or opportunity to fully describe the magical world Grandma created. As I get older, I sometimes have nostalgic visions and flashes from my childhood or adolescence, and while I might not exactly remember every detail, I will nevertheless experience a pleasant sense of being whenever I think of Grandma. These feelings involved pure joy and love, and I'll occasionally have this nesting urge to pull everything together to try and replicate it for my family, for my children. I know everyone here has a personal story, but I’d like to share mine by stepping away from my role as a highly privileged granddaughter, and first acknowledge her universally appealing qualities. Who Grandma was It was difficult to imagine Grandma had any casual acquaintances, since it seemed that anyone who met her felt comfortable and at ease upon introduction, and then would immediately see her as a friend. At my wedding, my mother-in-law announced she felt inclined to hug Grandma as soon as they met. In the eyes of everyone she was welcoming and sweet, approachable; she was a kindred spirit with a steady gaze and reassuring demeanor; she was a keenly observant and intelligent conversationalist, who, seemingly unbeknownst to her, had a penchant for what was politically progressive; she was a proud and extremely independent woman with a strong work ethic that was reflected in everything from her clerical work as a secretary, to her job arranging tableware at the antique gallery, or preparing and presenting a meal; she was a fastidious organizer with a meticulous eye for beauty and detail, that set an extremely high standard for tasks too numerous to count. These traits alone made for a unique and generous individual, but her family and close friends benefitted yet more from additional gifts including her calm, reliable strength that demonstrated sincere concern and affection, and was as much visible in her beautiful blue-green eyes, and her gentle caress as in her words. I called her on the phone weekly for over 30 years. Her phone number was probably the second one I ever memorized, and one of the only ones I still know today by heart. She was a loving guardian for all her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren; for her nieces, nephews, grand-nieces and grand-nephews, so on and so forth… She demonstrated unending patience and humor for their antics and predispositions. I remember when Elizabeth would say to her face: “Grandma, you’re on crack!”, and I’d see a wry smile, or a heard a gentle chuckle under a disapproving stare. She was a gentle teasing wit, who loved to laugh in fun and irony, and embraced self-effacing humor. A couple years ago, I remember she took clothes pins from her bathroom cabinet and pinched the folds of skin from over her eyes to her forehead. “Now I can finally see”, she said. “I don’t need surgery. I’ll just wear these all day.” She was a soothing refuge during time of conflict or pain, offering a listening ear to anyone in distress. I can’t count the number of times I spoke to her on the phone or in person, complaining, venting, or crying about some misfortune, and she not only listened and heard me out, but usually (not always), validated my feelings. She was a woman of strong but quiet faith, who did not feel the need to force her beliefs or practices on anyone, but rather chose to stay loyal to her own path. Her example proved most valuable in how my faith developed as an adult. She was a generous benefactor, giving the gifts she had until there was nothing left to give. My husband Neal started receiving his annual ten-dollar bill in his birthday card a couple of years ago. He was amazed by this unique demonstration of caring, which continued up into last week. She was a reconciler and a healer, who empathized (although didn’t necessarily agree) with different points of view and maintained her desire for peace above any petty or personal resentments. She was so accepting of us grandchildren in our imperfect totality, although the standards for her own behavior were so very high: so high I thought sometimes she needed to give herself a little break. George Meyers was the perfect companion for her…he is so clever, special, and loving in his own way; and his attention provided her some respite while she maintained her customary position under the guise of serving him. I remember when they first met, and she was about 80 years old at the time. Grandma told me how Aunt Patty had introduced them. I inquired how the first date had transpired, and she seemed less than enthusiastic. “Grandma”, I said. “I think it’s great that you can find someone to spend some time with!” "Carolyn, I couldn’t possibly go with him”, she scoffed. “Why, he doesn’t have a hair on his head!” Thankfully, for Grandma, for George, and for us, that wasn’t the last encounter. Grandma’s Legacy There are so many things about love Grandma taught me, that I try to remember to use, but I’ll never have the same natural talent she does. Nevertheless, I learned that children, young and old, have simple needs. They need completely unqualified, nurturing love, where they can feel safe but special; and they need instant gratification. It’s obvious where instant gratification came into play with Grandma. Her talent was, of course, an endless supply of sugar and cookies; which required three refrigerators full of ingredients, not to mention the edibles lining the bar in the basement. She demonstrated incredible devotion to this task…for decades she’d mailed out Christmas cookies to all the grandchildren and relatives, to the point that there was nothing sure but death, taxes, and cookies. In our second-to-last conversation, she declared she’d finally mailed my brother Pete his box of Christmas cookies. Even though he was in China before the holiday, she made a point of having them sent because she knew we expected and loved getting them. If there was anything you could count on in your Christmas wish list, it was a package of cookies. They always came! As if that wasn’t enough, she also found the time and opportunity to pass out a variety of small but heart-felt fascinations…whether they were dime store or estate sale trinkets, stickers, or hand written letters with sticks of gum. She taught us card games, and tricks with napkins. Her gentle touch and loving looks eased anxious fretting. As a young child, I remember sharing a bed with her, and us talking late into the night. She would scratch my back until I fell asleep. My daughter Naomi told me recently about doing the same thing when we visited last summer, and how they played: Who’s coming to Dinner? When all was wrong with the world, her most sincere attention, reflective listening and follow through in the following weeks was typical. She was the best confidant. From my earliest years up to this month I relied on her to tattle on my parents and every other person who happened to ruffle my feathers. Not that she could always do anything, but at least she indulged me. In so many ways, my life today could never be what it is without her. Her influence has shaped me from the inside out. Although I don’t always succeed as an adult or in my career; I seek to be the best at what I have chosen to do, like she did. I try to conduct myself in a way that is loyal and caring. I aspire to be true, not only to myself but also to my family, and carefully tend all relationships, having seen that no matter how busy we are, they require constant upkeep…realizing that the hand-written notes and cards might seem trivial, but are still powerful ways to help people feel significant. Her emotional support was unique and irreplaceable. I don’t yet know how I’ll fill the void now that now exists. She was the most faithful source of unconditional love. She lived her life and did everything according to her terms, and her death is no exception. Her labor is complete. She was a flowering vine that grew into many fruitful branches. I would sing that Bible song, “I am the Vine”, but I remember her singing another one, and I like it one too. Forgive me, I am not a professional. How Great Thou Art Oh Lord my God! When I in awesome wonder Consider all the world Thy hands have made. I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder, Thy power throughout the universe displayed. Then sings my soul, my Saviour God to Thee; How great Thou art, how great Thou art! Then sings my soul, my Saviour God to Thee: How great Thou art, how great Thou art! When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart! Then I shall bow in humble adoration, And there proclaim, my God, how great Thou art! Then sings my soul, my Saviour God to Thee; How great Thou art, how great Thou art! Then sings my soul, my Saviour God to Thee: How great Thou art, how great Thou art!