Family Stories from Dirty Laundry

Huh, I’m 31 years old, and I think this is the first time I’ve ever used a Laundromat! Funny, that....

Anyway, waiting for my clothes to wash gives me a long (long!) overdue opportunity to update poor, sad little Happy Apathy. Where to start? I think I’ll take a step back in time to May of this year. The location, my hometown in western Cape Breton; the occasion, my Grandma Robie’s 90th birthday open house celebration.

Her kids and grandkids had decorated the town Arts Centre with Grandma’s own handiwork. Hand-sewn quilts were draped on walls, and any remaining free space was taken up by her paintings (mostly local landscapes), all borrowed from the family members and friends she’d so lovingly made them for. My contribution? An amazing all-white cotton quilt covered with an incredibly intricate pattern of stitches, a wedding gift made for us by my mom and grandma together. On the tables were bouquets of the wildflowers that Grandma Robie so cherished, and taught her grandkiddies so much about (is it any wonder two of us grew up to become biologists?).

Early in the afternoon, Grandma’s many friends and admirers in the community were invited to drop in and offer their best wishes. A mother of nine and a longtime nurse at the local hospital, Grandma is very well-known in our small town, so the open house was a happy blur of (mostly) familiar faces. It was especially adorable to see her with my mother-in-law’s Dutch neighbour and his wife—Pieter’s always admired my grandmother, often comparing her to the regal and much-loved late Queen Mother; likewise, Grandma has a real soft spot for the Dutch (ever since her days as a nurse working in Halifax during WW2), and for Pieter in particular.

Following the open house, the whole family gathered for dinner. The nine kids and sixteen grandkids were all gathered (for the first time ever!), along with their significant others and the church minister. My cousins came from as far as Vancouver and Toronto just for the occasion!

During dinner, we paid homage to the guest of honour, with almost everybody taking turns at the mike telling "grandma stories"--quite a feat, as we Camerons are NOT fans of the spotlight, as a rule.

Among the highlights:

My dad making wisecracks about poor Grandma’s driving habits. His favourite, the legendary time she picked up her older sister at her niece’s place, put the car in gear, and hit the gas…only to discover (after backing into a basement window) that she’d put the car in *reverse* gear. Aunt May fainted, poor Grandma thought she’d killed her…this was shortly before she gave up driving. I don’t imagine Grandma found it terribly funny at the time, but she had the grace and good humour to laugh along with the rest of us!

Grandma’s oldest son and his oldest son, the musically gifted members of the family, performing a duet on piano and guitar. No, I don’t remember what they played, but it was lovely.

My painfully shy and frustratingly self-conscious little brother getting up to speak, much to the surprise of all of us. He told the story of Grandma taking the time to teach him to paint. It didn’t spark a lifelong hobby, but with her help he created a lovely painting of an autumn scene that hangs in my parents’ place with pride even now. I don’t know if Aaron even knows how proud he made my dad that night!

Many of the older cousins reminisced about our childhood sleepovers at Grandma's. The excitement we all shared when our cousins from out of town came to visit; getting together to play earnest, rousing games of "Court" (oddly, none of us grew up to be lawyers, and very few of us have ever actually been to court); waking up to Grandma’s amazing pancakes (and, of course, partaking in pancake-eating contests)…these were things I hadn’t thought about in ages, and recalling the memory gives me the warm fuzzies even now.

And with that, my poor abused hiking boots have finished tumbling in the dryer, and I have finished rambling in the laundromat. Sorry for the long and somewhat scattered post, but I was looking for a place to record and preserve the memory of that lovely celebration of my wonderful grandmother, and this seemed like as good a place as any. 'Til next time!