a visit to my nan
on hand me down wisdom
I stopped in to see my Nanny yesterday.
She was there in her big yellow house on the hill at the end of the road.
They recorded me at Memory Lane telling these very stories don’t cha know.
Her face went from pleased to beaming when I told her this:
I know. I’ve listened to the interview.
He face was glowing.
It’s funny how your voice changed. Even funnier? Your voice in your early seventies and my moms in her early seventies are so similar it’s really tough to tell them apart. I guess it’s true what they say about apples and trees.
Nanny nodded and laughed.
Who says you can’t surprise and delight someone in their nineties. I continued:
My son had just finished showing up and applying for a job for the first time. I’m proud of him. Instead of merely sending his application by email, he printed his resume, brought it to the community centre and asked for the person doing the hiring.
My nanny sat and nodded, Good to hear, she told me.
He has plans to go back and follow up with the hiring person. It’s all because of you.
She looked perplexed.
When I first applied for a job in town you told me to follow up in person rather than call. You taught me to persist. You said: The squeaky wheel gets the grease.
That’s right she said, the squeaky wheel gets the grease.
Well, you taught me that the summer after grandad died thirty five years agao. Now, the same thing you taught me, I taught him. You’d better be careful what you do Nanny.
Her eyes were tearing up.
Nanny, you have to be careful because the impacts of you being here are felt far beyond anything you’ll ever know or see.
It’s really fun making my nanny cry by letting her know how much she matters.
