A Tale of Two Nanas

With grandparenthood coming closer all the time, I’ve been thinking about my own grandparents.  We always called our grandmothers “Nana.” I’m not sure why.  Everybody else we knew had grandmas.  When I was at the grade school stage of not wanting to be different, I wished I had grandmas, not Nanas, but by then it was too late.

I was lucky enough to have my two Nanas living close by all the while I was growing up so I spent a lot of time with them.  They were good friends but very different personalities, so they taught me different things about the world and about Nanas.  Nana A. was a sweet, thoughtful, quiet person, mostly a homebody who dressed in the house dresses of the 50’s, generally blue.  She was the cautious type who wore rubbers when she took us swimming in Lake Erie, put down cushions so you didn’t have to sit on the cold ground and worried that you might get sick if you bathed too frequently. 

Nana K. was just as loving but more worldly and flamboyant.  She was famous for her hats, (see the January post “One Picture is Worth . . .”) always wore tons of jewelry, and, even at 90, never traded in her high heels for old lady shoes.  She loved places like New York and Las Vegas (left.)  She worked her whole adult life and, after retiring at 60 something (she finally had to tell the truth about her age when she wanted to collect Social Security), she started a second career selling subscriptions to the Broadway series in town.  That put her front and center for avant garde productions of the 70’s like “Hair” and “Oh!Calcutta!” when she wasn’t at the race track, the card table or The Cricket with her many friends.

Nana K. drove a sporty blue and white Chevy convertible while Nana A. never learned to drive.  Her main experience with cars was in secretly emptying the Cadillac’s ashtrays because Grandpa always said that, once the ashtrays were full, it was time to get a new car.  Both Nanas were avid card players, enjoying bridge, 500 and poker. They were particularly good at poker.  From Nana K., I learned to play my cards “close to the vest.”  From Nana A., I learned that, if I hung around the poker table, I was likely to take home a share of her winnings.

I learned that Nanas did special things your parents didn’t have the time or the budget to do.  If they were like Nana A., they sectioned your grapefruit, served real butter not disgust-o margarine and bought the big Delicious apples you liked, cut them in quarters and cored them.  They kept large, fancy tins full of assorted cookies arranged in little paper cupcake cups. Their idea of a picnic was different shaped crackers and jars of Kraft cheese, not baloney sandwiches. They NEVER served hamburger casseroles.  If they were like Nana K., they took you to the theater to see “The Sound of Music” and John Raitt in “Carousel.” They took you to movies like the Cinerama production of “Windjammer,” and they didn’t give you a hard time when it made you motion sick. 

Nanas also took you out to eat at fancy places like the Cincinnati Club where you were treated royally and had grown-up food like shrimp cocktail and deviled crab.  Depending on which one you sat beside when you went out to dinner, you could expect to have either a manhattan-soaked cherry (from Nana A.) or a martini-soaked olive (from Nana K.) with your Shirley Temple.

Nanas had interesting things in their houses that you could play with even though they
weren’t really toys.  Nana A. kept gumdrop rings in a delicate porcelain candy dish with a lid that had a rose on it.  You developed manual dexterity and hand-eye coordination not with video games but by learning to remove the lid and take a gumdrop without your parents hearing the tell tale clink from the next room.  Nana K. always got out her beautiful mah jongg set for us.  The smooth, shiny tiles felt cool in your hands.  Each tile had one jet black side and one delicate white side with intricate Chinese drawings in pale red and green. They made magical houses and castles.

I guess Nana A. and Nana K. were somewhat unconventional, as grandmothers go. They never went in for baking or knitting or other normal grandma things.  Maybe it was the name. The only things I remember Nana A. cooking were standing rib roast and rice pudding, both of which she did very well.  My dad, however, said he was the only guy who missed army food after he got home.  As a working woman, Nana K. rarely cooked; but she could arrange cocktail snacks like pickles, olives, nuts and cheese wedges nicely.  The one time she tried to bake a pie, it came out in a square pan and we ate it with spoons.  When I married Paul, I was lucky enough to acquire an actual Grandma .  I think of Grandma every time I use her sour cream apple pie recipe or unpack the ceramic Christmas decorations she made for us.  With two Nanas and a Grandma, I have a wide range of examples to follow.

The best summation of Nanas (and grandmothers by any name) that I’ve read was written by a five-year-old named Nathan.  During the 10 years I edited a student literary magazine at an elementary school, this piece of work was one of my favorites.  Here’s what Nathan wrote: “I call her Nana but her name is Joyce.  She’s my grandma.  You have grandmas around you, and they are a great hope.”  To that, I say, “Amen.”

P.S. In October, when David and Megan told us about the baby, they asked what we wanted to be called.  I’ve been thinking it over; and, if it’s all the same to the baby, I think I’d like to be “Nana.”