Born July 4 1878-Died April 14, 1971 93yrs
Prudence, my mother, sometimes took me along to visit Nana, a tiny old lady, no bigger than me, at seven or eight years old. Hard of hearing, she did not talk much, but she was very smiley and sweet. We went by bus to the South End of Boston, where she lived in the middle of a long line of brownstones on the 2nd floor, of a dead-end street. If we took her on an outing, I was mom’s little helper and assisted Nana along by hooking my arm through hers. Delightfully, we were just the right size for each other, we fit perfectly. I remember sitting with her in the back seat of the car, she would pretend to be enjoying my chatter, though I figured out she was pretty deaf. On one unannounced visit to her two-room apartment, we find her in a see-through nighty standing in the bright sunlight streaming through the window. Not a care in the world, she greeted us with delight and swinging breasts as mom quickly scooped her up to put some clothes on. I think my brother might have been with us too.
She never visited with us for long and was never at any family gatherings. I did not think too much about who she may be, questions did not come naturally to me, I was in my own little world of thoughts and daydreams. At most, Mom may have said she is Grammy T’s relative. I did not question why Mom became quite the caregiver of Nana and eventually, she arranged for her to enter a nursing home. We visited her there, as well, and Mom brought her yarn, starting her on a marathon of crocheted ‘Granny’ squares. She bought thick wool of green, yellow and orange. Before long, Nana had an enormous stockpile of squares to the extent that the staff thought she was senile. So Mom took the massive heap home, sewed them together and then presented a queen-sized and extraordinarily heavy afghan blanket, back to the home and laid it upon Nana’s little bed for all the world to see, to show that Nana was not nut’s!
I liked to explore in Mom’s closet and try on her fancy shoes and sandals and found a box stuffed in the back. I pulled out a pair of shiny black patten-leather highheel shoes and tried them on. They fit my small child’s feet. I asked my mother, why do these grown-up shoes fit my feet. She said they were Nana’s.
When I was old enough to ask the right questions, I find out that Nana was Lora’s mother-in-law, my Mom’s grandmother and my great grandmother. Prudence’s middle name is Mary. I figure she may have been around 87 years old during those days.