We were excited and a little bit scared—my sister and I
openly, and my older brother secretly. He hated to let any kind of nervousness
show; it made him feel weak, even though he was only nine years old. I was six
and my sister was four. Grandma Eckman was coming to babysit, while our parents
went to the birthday party of one of my dad’s work colleagues.
Although we loved our great-grandmother, she was sterner
than the other adults with whom we spent time. While she was a regular part of
our lives—an afternoon every other Sunday at her apartment, regular family
dinners and activities and often when we stopped by our grandmother’s home a
few blocks away—this was the first time we would be alone with her for any
length of time.
Grandma Eckman didn’t drive, so while Mom finished getting
ready, Dad went to pick her up. As she finished her make up and jewelry, our
mother laid out the rules for the evening. They were her standard rules for
when she was away from us with a little more seriousness. As far as we were
concerned, Grandma Eckman was our oldest living relative, and she did require
some special treatment. Our behavior must be perfect. Actually, a stranger
would think that we were all going out the way our mother cleaned us up for our
evening with Grandma Eckman. She even styled my sister Missy’s unruly mass of
curls. Although my hair was just as curly and blonde, my parents kept it short.
My brother and I both had haircuts called squirrel tails—crew cuts with bangs—that
were very easy to maintain.
We were allowed pretzels and Kool-Aid as a snack, which we
liked. But we were not to fuss or be loud. Grandma was in charge of the
television, and we would watch what she wanted to watch. Whatever we played
with, we needed to put away when we finished. And when Grandma said it was time
for bed, we were to obey without complaining or negotiating.
“Promise me,” Mom said, stopping everything to look at all
of us individually and securing separate vocal promises from each of us.
“Good,” she concluded. “I know I can rely on all of you.”
The timing was perfect. Just as Mom finished dressing, we
heard the noise of Grandma’s arrival. I admit that we were excited and started
to bound down the stairs. My older brother Jeff was first, and part way, he remembered
his promise and slowed. Missy and I crashed into him, so he punched us each in
the arm. Jeff punched hard. What he didn’t know is that our mother was right
behind us, saw everything and gave each of us a stern look.
Grandma Eckman was chatting with our father about the lawn.
My dad took very good care of it, but as he was growing older, Jeff took on
more responsibility. Grandma told us that she always liked a nice-looking lawn.
She considered it a good indication of character. She was wearing a nice dress,
make-up and jewelry. We had seen her dress up before, but no other babysitter
had ever gone to such trouble to spend time with us.
While we greeted her with cheery greetings, we didn’t hug
her. She wasn’t a hugger. She beamed and responded with her own, “Hello, my
darlings. My! Don’t you look nice tonight.”
“You look beautiful, Grandma!” Missy exclaimed.
“Thank you, darling,” Grandma Eckman said. “I dressed up
just for you.”
A few moments later our parents were gone, and we were alone
with Grandma Eckman. Feeling a new sense of camaraderie with her, Missy and I
each took a hand and with Jeff in the lead, took her from the dining room where
she had laid her coat over a chair through the living room and into a small
room that served as our play room. We called it our back room. It was separated
from the living room by a set of french doors. If either of my parents required
an office, this would have been the room; however, as there were three
children, it became our playroom. Missy wanted to share with Grandma her Barbie
collection, and Jeff and I wanted to show her the floor mat of a village and
how we distributed our Matchbox cars among the various houses on it.
“This room is a disaster!” Grandma Eckman exclaimed, which
was not the response we anticipated, and simply expelled all of the sound from
the room, except for Jeff’s light wheezing. His asthma was acting up.
“I want you to clean it up right now,” Grandma ordered.
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