We all have people in our lives that hold a key to our heart. My Nana is one of those special people to me. Throughout my childhood I was lucky to live within a mile of my grandparents and see them on a regular basis. Now that I am a grown adult and live further away I try my best to make plans to go to Quincy to see my Nana every other week.
My Nana and Papa came to the United States in 1956 from Hungary to escape the revolution and communism. At the time neither of them knew a soul nor spoke a word of English. My Nana was twenty-two years of age at the time when her and my Papa arrived to the United States with their two small children who were ages six and five. Over time they learned the English language and became familiar with American culture through their children. Picking out items in the grocery store, learning how to drive a car, and getting work was a struggle for some time. It was hard but they did it. Life was no means perfect and they encountered many rough patches but overall my grandparents lived the American Dream.
My nana stands about 5’2 125 lbs. She colors her hair, has a thick Hungarian accent, is an excellent cook, keeps her house spotless, and dresses fashionable. My Nana is fortunate enough to be in excellent health and great shape thanks to eating healthy and Jane Fonda over the years. As a young girl I would always watch her do her Jane Fonda VHS workout tape when she babysat me. She has been doing this same workout routine since 1983. I think she can count on one hand the days she has missed this workout routine since she started doing it 28 years ago. The only difference now, is that she has the whole routine memorized and no longer uses the VHS tape. Leotard, tights, and leg warmers…they are still in action.
When we send time together I often ask her many questions about what life was like living in Hungary and what it was like to start over in America. I can’t imagine what it would be like to move to a foreign country with a young family, not know the language, not being able to tell my family I was leaving until I got to my destination across the globe, and crossing over the border to escape my own country in the middle of the night while risking my life. My Nana tells me how she grew up in a small two-room house with a dirt floor and an outhouse with her parents, brother, and sisters. They raised their own livestock and grew their own plants to put food on the table. They walked to a well up a hill like Jack and Jill to fetch their drinking and bath water. She tells me her memories of what it was like to be a young child during WWII. My Nana saw the horrors of her Jewish neighbors and classmates “disappear” and their shoes and belongings piled up in a community shed. She explains to me with a stoic face how Russian soldiers invaded her childhood home during the war and made themselves at home for about two weeks while what seemed an endless supply of ammunition occupied their front lawn. The soldiers took over the household beds while my Nana and her family slept on the floor. My Nana’s parents decided to hide the oldest sister who was in her late teens in the family barn during this time because in nearby villages it was heard that soldiers were raping young women. The soldiers knew my Nana’s sister was hiding in the barn and relayed this information to my Nana’s family by drawing a picture of a barn in the dirt with a girl stick figure in the barn. Luckily they were respectful and they never hurt anyone. Bombs went off nearby, tanks strolled the streets, and gunshots were a common sound. She has seen the good and the bad throughout the course of her life.
In addition to experiencing war my Nana is a book of knowledge. She knows how to spin wool off a sheep to make yarn, knit, crochet, sew just about anything without a pattern, cook from scratch, wrap a present that will look more beautiful than anything Martha Stewart can crank out, pluck a chicken, make a comforter out of goose feathers, do a mean Jane Fonda workout, love, and most importantly survive. She tried to teach me to knit but all I was able to make was a lousy amorphous patch. However, I was able to learn how to make her chocolate chip cookies.
So whoever the special people are in your life take some time to learn from them, hear their stories, and cherish these moments in your heart forever. The holidays are always a nice time of year to spend with loved ones. But make sure you see those special people throughout the year and not only during holidays because they may not be around forever. Older people are full of life experiences. They didn’t become seniors by sitting in a rocking chair. Think about that the next time you see an elderly person in the grocery store of walking down the street. Everyone has a story.
Merry Christmas to All!
Nice! Absolutely. Hearing stories from grandparents is fascinating. Living history. One of my grandfathers was wounded in the Battle of the Bulge. Hearing about it from him over lunch beats the heck out of the History channel.
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