I’m writing
about my grandparents this month.
(Please consider reading Grandpa: Work,Clean-Up, & Nails.)
The names for
my Dad’s parents were straight-up and easy; Grandpa
and Grandma. But we all know how it
goes and one set of grandparents has to be called something else so we call my
Mom’s parents Mere Mere and Pere Pere.
That’s what my older brother started calling them, he was the first
grand for everyone, they thought it was cute, end of story.
First off, Mere Mere was the one
who introduced me to concrete. It may sound odd, but it's true. Here's how it went. She was a
school teacher and Pere Pere was an electrician. They spent a lot of time
building together as a team and she knew everything from mixing mortar and
concrete to framing walls to hanging wallpaper.
I grew up in a house in the country that Mere Mere had built after Pere
Pere died. Like Garage #2 and The Fire House, this building was replacing one that was lost to a fire. Anyway, I remember going out to check on this
house with Mere Mere during its’ construction.
She held my hand firmly as we walked by a small section of freshly
poured concrete. She explained with
intriguing detail how concrete worked. I
remember being fascinated because she explained how it was wet and soft before
it would become hard like a sidewalk. For
a toddler, that was pretty cool. She explained
all of this like the teacher that she was as she held my hand and stood between me and the small wet pad.
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| Mere Mere loading the mixer, on-site with my grandpa in the 40's. |
But the most
important thing I got from my maternal grandmother is faith. Mustard seed-type faith that makes a person think
they can save a condemned or abandoned house that no one else wants. Norman Vincent Peale’s father was the
presiding minister at Mere Mere's parent’s wedding and she was a big fan of his
work for her entire life. She especially loved his book The Power of Positive
Thinking. Without Mere Mere and the
wisdom in that book, I would have never bought The Fire House. No way.
After we moved
into Mere Mere’s house, she designed and had a triplex built for herself that
had two apartments that she rented out.
When one of the block retaining walls needed to be replaced, she let me do it
for her. For me, this was just plain
fun. And even though she didn’t pay me,
I was in charge, she let me plan and figure it all out, so I always think of
this as one of my first jobs.
Twenty years
after stomping my foot in that little pad for the TV antennae, she let me form
up and build that wall for her. So
because of all this, I think of Mere Mere just about every time I’m working
with concrete… but more significantly I think of her every time I sign my name
to take ownership of a Pig's Ear that no one else wants. With faith of a mustard seed,
anything's possible. Thank you, Mere Mere.
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| Mere Mere had cataract surgery before our brother's wedding. When she showed up with sun glasses, we followed her lead and hammed it up for a photo. |
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