An Ode to Nanny

Sadly, I’ve been finding myself writing far too many of these odes over the past 18 months. But I wanted to share this, which I wrote for the memorial service for my Nanny, which was held last weekend (and which I couldn’t attend in person due to the distance), in case anyone else in the family reads this and wasn’t able to attend. Nanny is the sister of my grandma – who also passed away this year, in January — and also a frequent commenter of this blog. She wasn’t never just a great-aunt, though; she was always Grandma No. 2:

Nanny, aka Donna Sue (Bennett) Gross
Sept. 12, 1940-July, 31, 2011*

Nanny, me, Uncle Tim, Cousin Drew, Grandma: 2005

My Nanny gave me the most meaningful gift I’ve ever received, an old book that once belonged to my great, great grandmother. Called 1000 Beautiful Things, it is a beautiful, old bound book full of poems, stories, plays and verses that is always one of the first things I pack up among my many moves. She gave it to me shortly after my birthday when my grandma was in the hospital in New Albany. To this day, I keep all my important mementoes tucked in the pages of that old book.

That gift was very emblematic of our Nanny. She was always giving. Saw a book at her house that looked interesting? Well then take it, she’d insist! Go out on a shopping trip with her and see some cute shoes? Well, you just have to have them then, she’d say, passing her credit card to the front amid your protests to the contrary. She never scolded. She’d let us stay up as late as we pleased, watch whatever movie we wanted. She’d hang out and watch us dye our hair a multitude of colors under the rainbow (which Carrie would inevitably have to fix the next day). She laughed at our jokes and just seemed to “get” it and understand us in a way that no adult of our parents’ generation ever seemed to be able to do. I could seek her out for advice and talk to her honestly in a way I couldn’t with many others. I always felt that was part of what made Nanny so extra special. She wasn’t just a relative, an elder, an aunt or a grandmother: She truly was also my friend.

The book Nanny gave me on bottom -- second in importance only to one other Book, on top.

Our Nanny was always the coolest grandmother  in town. All of our friends wanted to hang out with her, and when we were all together with her, you would always forget that she counted a good 50 years on us all — of course, until we needed advice, which she could always give. We (and when I say we, I’m almost always referring here to Michelle and myself) would always stay up late when we stayed at Nan’s. She could stay up later than anyone hanging out with us!

It may have been a bit confusing to outsiders who didn’t understand our incredibly close-knit family, but I know that I — all of us grandkids — were incredibly lucky to have not one but two grandmothers to love and support us. I always thought of Nanny as simply another grandma. Losing both of them in a six-month span is certainly not easy for our family, but I think we can all take a little bit of comfort in knowing that the two of them are back together now, along with Marcia, Mike, Tom, Uncle Robert, Granny and Pop, Little brother Jimmy ((is that name right)), Schultz, and the rest of the gang, and I’m sure they’re preparing the party for the rest of us when we join.

So today to thank Nanny for always giving to me, for loving me, inspiring me, encouraging me to be strong and independent, and to honor Nanny’s love for words and wisdom and poetry and all things beautiful,  I’d like to share with you one of those 1,000 beautiful things from that book. It’s a poem that is oddly referenced in the front inside cover of the book without explanation — handwritten, it simply says ‘page 467′ — most likely by my great-great grandmother.

Idyll by Siegfried Sassoon

In the grey summer garden I shall find you
With day-break and the morning hills behind you.
There will be rain-wet roses; stir of wings;
And down the wood a thrush that wakes and sings.

Not from the past you’ll come, but from that deep
Where beauty murmurs to the soul asleep:
And I shall know the sense of life re-born
From dreams into the mystery of morn

Where gloom and brightness meet. And standing there
Till that calm song is done, at last we’ll share
The league-spread, quiring symphonies that are
Joy in the world, and peace, and dawn’s one star.

*someone please tell me if I got those dates wrong, those were the best I could remember.

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