Circumspencing the Globe

Sad news from home prompts me to use this blog again for a purpose unrelated to travel…

My only remaining grandparent, Leah Cowdroy, died Thursday morning on her birthday, November 1. She was 95 to the day.

Like a lioness, Grandma Lily, strong in character and faith, functioned as a family matriarch of sorts. Her inner strength derived from her deep-rooted spiritual belief in, and relationship with, the living God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.

Born in London in 1912, Grandma Lily lived through two wars, raised two boys and outlived two husbands and all of her sibblings, all four of whom were her juniors in age.

She often spoke of the “war years,” of food rations and black-outs and sirens, of evacuations into the London Underground. One time, when Grandma had a baby (my dad) in her arms, she spotted a low-flying Nazi plane approaching. No time to find cover, she dropped to the ground and covered my dad with her body. A line of rapid-fire bullets tore through the concrete, narrowly missing the place where she and her child lay.

Grandma Lily could never be found without her Magen David dangling on a necklace over her bosom. She was very proud of her Jewish heritage and suffered her share of anti-Semitism growing up. She raised her family in an Orthodox Jewish area and sent my dad to Talmud Torah.

Grandma had no tolerance for racial prejudice and spoke up when she encountered it. During World War II, when American servicemen filled the pubs of London, Grandma made it a point to interact with those of color. She could not comprehend how many American soldiers could shun and mistreat their fellow countrymen, men who were also sacrificing their lives in the war effort, merely because their skin was a different color. She and her sister, Anna, caused a stir at a social function when they deigned to dance with two Black soldiers. These convictions remained strong in Grandma’s later life. She recounted not a few incidents in which she upbraided fellow bus passengers for making racially derogatory remarks. Grandma was bold like that in doing the right thing or saying the right thing.

But when Grandma Lily confronted someone, she did so diplomatically. In fact, two of the hallmarks of her character were her tact and sensitivity to others. As a lifestyle, she placed others ahead of herself. And Grandma hated to think of ever being a bother to anyone. As an everyday example, if Grandma had an inkling that a proposed plan might pose an inconvenience, she would instantly insist that the plan be scrapped, no matter how much she had been looking forward to it. This made planning things with Grandma quite a challenge. If she said she didn’t want to do something, you could never be sure whether she really didn’t want to do it or whether, instead, she did want to do it but believed if it were done she would be a bother.

And Grandma thought others were doing the same thing. This led to conversations tantamount to verbal chess matches. When the matter in question involved food, Grandma Lily made a formidable opponent. “Have some more,” she would insist. “Grandma, thanks, but, really, I’ve had enough,” I would say. Now there was no way that statement would satisfy Grandma. She just assumed I had said that only to not be a bother to her. And so, unconvinced, she would press. “Go on, you’ve hardly eaten a thing.” “No, really, Grandma, I’m full.” If I held my ground, itemized bargaining would ensue. “At least have some mashed potatoes.” The earnestness in her kind, brown eyes would cause me to engage in a split-second mental calculation, weighing the degree of pleasure I believed Grandma would derive by my eating more against the degree of displeasure I would suffer from overeating. Usually, Grandma would win. “Okay,” I’d relent, “a bit more mash. Thanks.” Gleefully, Grandma would heap a pile onto my plate and then slightly change the subject. “Wait ’til you see what I’ve got for dessert.”

Grandma Lily’s bargaining skills extended to the world of commerce. She had a bloodhound’s nose for a good deal. On her bookshelf, for example, although one could not find an entire encyclopedia set, one would find several different first volumes from different publishers because the first volumes could always be kept if the customer were “not completely satisfied.” Grandma was a very hard customer to completely satisfy. And she knew a lot about things that began with the letter “A.”

Along with Grandma Lily’s reluctance to pass up a bargain came a reluctance to part with unneeded possessions. Under no circumstance could any object be discarded outright. That would constitute wastefulness. This was true even if the object itself was just a container of, or receptacle for, other objects. Because of this, Grandma always seemed to have in her handbag various items she had finally become prepared to part with but only on the condition that she could find a new home for them. Consequently, family members would find themselves on the receiving end of things like promotional ball-point pens, clipped coupons, make-up samples, drawstring pouches and plastic boxes. These gifts, which Grandma thought might “come in handy some day,” would be offered with suggestions for their use. “Maybe you could keep your loose change inside,” Grandma might say. And she’d always seal the deal with the same irrefutable line: “You never know.”

Grandma’s careful stewardship over what little she had was a trait borne out of her humble beginnings. She grew up poor and never came into wealth. But Grandma’s dignity and propriety overshadowed her humility and simplicity. She had to bear substantial responsibility at a young age. As the oldest among her brothers and sisters, Grandma had to take care of the younger ones. She had dreams of writing and mastering the piano, but there was no time for such indulgences. Upon returning home from school one day, Grandma’s heart sank when she discovered her father had sold the piano. To help the family make ends meet, she had to work in a laundry shop, a job she detested, and one of the many examples of self-sacrifice that would typify her life.

Grandma was generous with what she did have. She would be the first to tell you that her biggest treasure was her religious faith. And she was generous in sharing it with others, wanting them to experience what she’d experienced. She explained the origins of her faith as follows. After her husband died, she and her son David, her sister Anna, and Anna’s daugher Jackie moved from London to Los Angeles to reunite with my father who had already made the move. In Los Angeles, Grandma and Auntie Anna became friends with an engaging group of Jewish people who made unique claims about the Messiah and the Hebrew prophets and how Yeshua (the Hebrew name for Jesus) fit into the picture. Grandma didn’t know much about such things but was impressed with their warmth and peace and joy. As she learned more about the Hebrew Scriptures and the New Testament, she grew intrigued.

Grandma has said that what ultimately captured her heart and led her to embrace this “messianic faith” as her own was its implications for reconciliation between Jews and Gentiles. She was especially moved by the notion that this Yeshua (Jesus), as the Jewish Messiah and atoning “Lamb of God,” by his death-sacrifice broke down the barrier dividing Jews and Gentiles and made it possible for the two groups to be spiritually united into one body of believers with equal access to a holy God. Grandma’s Magen David has in its center a tiny cross, which has spawned many interesting and sometimes impassioned discussions. Still, as a Jewish “believer,” Grandma Lily retained her Jewish identity and honored her heritage and the Jewish holidays, which she made a priority to impart to the children in the family.

Grandma Lily had a remarkable knack with kids. Perhaps it stemmed from the many years she spent taking care of her young sibblings. She used to make money taking care of children and had a great reputation for doing so. Grandma was actually something of a “child whisperer” and could “break” an unruly kid like the best of those TV nannies. This is because she deeply loved children. Her heart broke whenever she heard about incidents of child abuse and she could not watch footage of starving children without getting choked up.

As one of her very own grandchildren, I was awash in Grandma’s ocean of love. It would take eons for me, my sister Andrea, my brother Daniel or my cousin Stephanie to chronicle the many ways Grandma showered us with her lovingkindness. She loved having us over, taking us on outings, equipping us to perform creative projects, buying us gifts and, of course, feeding us. (She could make a mean matzoh-ball soup, by the way, on par with the best delis’.) And Grandma made us feel special. For as far back as I can remember, Grandma Lily greeted each and every little home-made gift I gave her, no matter how crude or insubstantial, with lavish gratitude, a very convincing gasp of astonishment, and the exact same words of incredulity: “You didn’t make that!?!”

Grandma Lily was fun to be with because she had such a terrific sense of humor. She was quick to engage in banter and laughed heartily and often, as much about her own foibles as at comical situations. She also had a suggestive way of saying “Don’t do anything Grandma wouldn’t do” that communicated that there wasn’t much at all Grandma wouldn’t do. She retained her wit until the end, remaining mentally sharp even as her body declined.

And Grandma refused to complain. She faced many hardships in her life and, in her later years, accepted her declining health in stride. She would even make light of it. “Poor old Grandma,” she’d say, facetiously pitying herself. As she became increasingly homebound, she contented herself with simple pleasures, like watching videos with her special friend Gennady or reading yet another murder mystery.

Grandma Lily used her wit as well as her abundant tact to defuse awkward predicaments and resolve conflict. She was surely the biggest repository of family secrets in the family. Her devotion to family could not have been greater. She loved spending time with us all and let us know it. For example, Grandma often said she cherished my mom as her very own daughter. She also relished her relationship with Gennady as if he were family. Grandma always had a word of encouragement. My favorite is this one: “A disappointment is an appointment God didn’t want you to keep.”

Grandma, I miss you. The loss of you is a very big one, indeed. A huge “disappointment.” But I know that our loss is your gain because, as the Bible says of those God has redeemed, to be absent from the body is to be present with God. You made it home. All of your bodily limitations and discomforts are gone forever. Dad and I bet you’re probably up there now doing silly dances with Auntie Anna and listening to Uncle Denny’s (now somewhat less off-color) jokes. I thank God for your longevity, for giving me and all of us so many years of your love and humor and wisdom and encouragement and example of faithfulness to God. How blessed this family has been to have had you in it–not just in it, but at its core. And Grandma, one last thing. Yes, I did write this.

Bye, Grandma.

Tags: Travel

This entry was posted on Friday, November 2nd, 2007 at 12:54 pm and is filed under Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.