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| Dewey and Lena Battistelli, better known to me as Gramps & Gram, ca. 1970-something |
It was 1977 and I was 14 years old (Disclaimer: DO NOT DO THE MATH.)
I was backstage in the auditorium at Stevenson Junior High School, preparing to go stand on those uncomfortable little wooden stage bleachers alongside my choir mates, most of whom I'd sung with since I was knee-high. By then, choir was my LIFE. My music teacher, Miss Wendy Wheaton, had bestowed upon me a very important honor.... I'd been selected to perform a solo for the mid-winter concert. The song she selected for me was a very popular song of the day, Evergreen, sung by none other than the incomparable Ms. Barbra Streisand. (No pressure there.)
Even though he worked afternoons, my dad arranged to go into work later that evening so he would not miss my "debut." I peeked from behind the stage curtains to see where he, my mom and my little brother were sitting in the audience. Good. They were in the second row. Beside them were two empty seats with my mother's purse placed on one and my brother's coat on the other. Those seats were reserved for my grandparents. In fact, two chairs were always reserved for Dewey and Lena Battistelli, who had attended every choir concert, dance recital and school play or musical production I'd been a part of dating back to my first school play in Kindergarten, where I'd played a pilgrim's wife and even had a speaking line which I still remember ("Oh, mercy me!")
Understand that to them, we lived waaay "out there" in the suburbs and making that drive from their lifelong bungalow in Detroit was considered no small feat.
I was a bundle of nerves, understandably. All the backstage chattering about who will go where and which order our songs were to be performed was nothing more than white noise to me as I obsessively peeked out from the curtains three more times to see those empty chairs still unfilled. There had been a winter storm with at least 6 " of snow the day before and Mom worried Gramps and Gram might not be able to drive in for my concert. She'd prepared me not to be too disappointed if they did not show up.
The lights flickered and went dim. Onto the darkened stage we all filtered one-by-one. We did our opening number, my stomach churning inside, NOT because of my impending first time in the spotlight but because it felt unnatural to NOT see my grandparents out there. Mom later told me she was even given some nasty looks for "poaching," a practice still frowned upon today....
After the third song was to be my solo. We were already through the second stanza when I'd realized they would, indeed, not be there to catch my first solo. This was before technology, folks. There were no iPhones or even the bulky camcorders of the 80s that preceeded them....
Finally Ms. Wheaton gave me the nod to approach the microphone next to her piano. As I stepped toward the mic, I saw the auditorium door swing open and in rushed my two favorite people in the world, my GRANDPARENTS, who made no attempts to be subtle as they raced toward their seats way up front. Now here's your visual: Picture a short, stocky balding man, as outgoing as they come, wearing a wide smile showing the gap in his two front teeth and as always, his signature hat in hand as he waves to folks glaring at him with mild annoyance. As per usual, he was rushing way ahead of his wife, my poor Gramma, wearing a winter coat over her usual house dress, practical black shoes with the inner toe cut out to accommodate her aching bunions (even in 6" of snow!) and a bright ORANGE... babushka... < cringing >.
Taking no notice that there was a concert already in progress, they loudly bickered back and forth in Italian, their entrance making such a bustle that Ms. Wheaton paused and coached me for a few moments to give them a moment to settle in. I made eye contact with Gramps who's sparkly smile and knowing wink lit up my world. Suddenly, all pre-performance jitters melted away. As Ms. Wheaton turned away from the audience to play the first piano chord, Gramps stood up and, as my mother hid her face in her hands, pointed directly at me, informing audience members within earshot exactly how he was related to "that little girl at the microphone." Any other teenager would have been mortified. Instead, I felt FORTIFIED and I went on to perform the song to the best of my abillity. It would not be my last solo performance but it certainly made for my most memorable one.
I am reminded of that evening today because this Friday, my daughter's school will mark Grandparents' Day with much fanfare. There should have been a Grandparents' day when I was a kid. Especially now, given the amount of hands-on help today's grandparents give to their offspring throughout the year. I see grandparents at drop-off and in the carpool line, I see them volunteering at school and serving at masses. I see them in attendance at events during which a parent must be at the office. This is definitely a well deserved day for Grandparents.
This year, I am also reminded of the void I feel living so far from my only living parent, my father in Michigan who will, sadly, not be in attenance on Friday. Given the fact that his granddaughter will be singing a small solo, I couldn't help but draw a parallel with my own story about waiting for Grampa & Gramma to come. My father loves his grandchildren. He just happens to be that dad who simply doesn't travel, whether he's feeling well or not.....so I've resigned myself to it. My mom's brother and his wife, Uncle Gene and Aunt Shirley Battistelli, had planned to step up in Dad's absence but emergency back surgery on my uncle put a halt to that. All the same, the gesture is appreciated more than they can ever know. And so, rather than stew over Dad's absence I'll focus on the fact that my in-laws, now 81, will once again make the 12-hour trek from Chatham, Ontario, along with their son, my brother-in-law, to see their youngest granddaughter proudly show off her school, her work and her teacher to Oma and Opa. I can predict that, as was the case last year, they will love it.
But that day, as I help other parents set up and serve food to our visiting grandparents and stand in back to watch the show, I cannot lie. I'll likely fight back pangs of sadness. I always miss my mom, that's nothing new, but days like this just magnify her absence, making it bittersweet for me as I silently wish she'd lived long enough to see my brother and me become parents. Even knowing she's in a better place, selfishly, I'd prefer to see her wheelchair parked next to other grandparents, not only to watch her granddaughter that day, but to introduce her to the amazing group of moms with whom I've become very close, down here in Chattanooga. Maybe to tell Mom I now understand what she did all those years as she carted me from activity to activity and to show her I am trying, every single day, to become all she hoped I'd someday become as a mommy.
Sadness aside, this week is about the Grandparents and the kids. So Friday, I'll give my daughter two flowers representing the seats left empty by her "maternal" grandparents and remind her that actually, Gramma Mary has the best seat in the house, and I'll urge her to belt out that solo loud enough for the Heavens to hear.
In closing....to all of the Pop-pops, Nanas, Oma & Opas, Mimi and Poppy's here at Our Lady of Perpetual Help and to ALL grandparents across the country who love your grandchildren all year long, I bid you a heartfelt, Happy Grandparents' Day! It should go without saying just how deeply you are loved by your children and their own children. ENJOY YOUR DAY!
