I often think about my Mom’s Mom, whom my cousins and I called Granny.

Granny was born in Austria and her husband, my Grandfather was born in Haiti. According to the story I heard, they met on a ferry via Ellis Island, New York. Their story always makes me smile.

Wow, talk about romantic. I am always in awe thinking about how two strangers who came from different countries, neither speaking English (neither sharing a common language) were able to find each other, fall in love, marry and raise a family in New York.

Her grand kids called her Granny. I recall my mom and her siblings, her older sister and my uncle the youngest, called Granny MAMA. Her son-in-laws called her Mrs Jones. My Dad said he called her Mom once.

According to Dad that exchange didn’t go well. Dad said she looked up straight up into his eyes and instructed him to call her Mrs Jones. My uncle’s wife didn’t ask, she always called Granny Mama.

My grandmother was a woman of few words. A stubborn, brave, pessimist who had faith in God and loved her family. Granny lived with us, Mom, Dad, my older sister, me and our fierce chihuahua Princess.

This is a family story that I wanted to share with friends.

 

Janet Cormier is a painter, writes prose and poetry, and performs comedy. Janet prefers different and original over pretty. She loves collecting stuff, but cleaning not so much. Janet also talks to strangers. A lot. Her column appears weekly on Oddball Magazine.