Fabulous Grandmothers

I recently had lunch with my dear friend Jill, a fellow Omaha transplant in New York (how I met her is a whole nother wonderful tale - thank you Thomas!) . We enjoyed a fantastic lunch at Balthazar, which, though appallingly trendy, is just a spectacularly wonderful French bistro in Soho. Off topic, but I highly recommend it! Actually, their chef does a very good deed every time he makes those pork medallions with polenta... but... I digress.

Anyway, over lunch my friend Jill and I were discussing our holiday plans, and I told her about how much I was looking forward to seeing my wonderful grandmother in Omaha.

My Gramma Peg is 87 and is a complete superstar. She is beautiful, wise, funny as hell, strong, generous, practical, loving, and immensely charming; basically, along with my mother, she is one of the heroines of my life. She is passionately anti-war, and spends her time and considerable energy running around protesting the war, handing out leaflets at college campuses, getting herself arrested at Strategic Air Command, and organizing the various religious leaders in Omaha for peace prayer services. She and my mother (who was 73 at the time) spent the millenium New Year's Eve protesting for peace at the Nevada nuclear test site, and sleeping on a high school gym floor in sleeping bags. In addition, she manages to keep track of her immense family, including a gazillion grandchildren and great-grandchildren; my son receives a funny, loving, handwritten note from her on his birthday every year, and I don't know how she does it. She came to the family Christmas party this year beaming, wearing a red apron, a Christmas tree hat and a natty tie festooned with blinking green and red lights. She is AWESOME.

Her whole life is a good deed!

So I was raving to Jill about Gramma Peg, and she laughed and said "Your grandmother should meet MY grandmother!" -- and she proceeded to tell me her grandmother's story.

Jill's grandmother worked for many years at Boys Town, which I grew up thinking of as the home for "wayward youth" in Omaha. Their website describes the place as "offering help, hope, and healing to abused, abandoned, neglected, handicapped or otherwise troubled children throughout America."

Wow. I'm going to paste that again.

Offers help, hope, and healing to abused, abandoned, neglected, handicapped or otherwise troubled children throughout America.

Talk about a good deed!

So anyway, Jill's grandmother wanted to work there, but worried that they might not hire her because of her age. She was in her seventies, but no one would guess that, so - she fudged her age a bit on her application. She was hired and spent many years as the assistant to the director. She was the person who welcomed the new, scared, defiant, lonely, chip-on-the-shoulder kids who were shipped there as a last resort from all over the country. When they arrived at the Boys Town campus amidst the cornfields outside of Omaha, most of them had nothing but the clothes on their backs.

So Jill's grandmother had the idea that Boys Town should have a "store" for these kids. In fact, she was determined that they would. She went to local retailers, wouldn't take no for an answer, and obtained promises of continuous donations of new clothes, backpacks, school supplies, and toiletries. From then on every kid at Boys Town could "shop" for what they needed in her store, free of charge, and also (maybe more significantly) recieve her kind, loving attention and solicitude. She became the unofficial and beloved "grandma" of the school.

Many years later, Jill's grandmother decided to retire from her position as the director's assistant. Her colleagues were shocked to hear that she was actually in her eighties, not her late sixties as they had thought! However, she couldn't bear to give up the Store, so she still runs around getting businesses to donate money and goods, and still gets to help the kids pick out their things. Jill's fabulous grandmother is also 87, like my fabulous grandmother.

Our grandmothers really should meet each other; maybe they already have. I'm just profoundly glad that they exist. I've been blinking back tears as I've been writing this, simply overwhelmed by the majesty and courage of lives so well lived. I'm deeply grateful to be able to witness women like this. I hope I can be half as cool.

Happy New Year to all our readers! Let me know if you have a fabulous grandmother too.

~Joan