Today I have a few shots of my grandmothers on my mother’s side – my genetic grandparents divorced and each re-married, giving me a double set of grandparents on my mother’s side, which was pretty awesome for a first grandchild (double birthday presents, double Christmas presents). The first picture is my grandma Bev, who was my grandfather John’s second wife, and who lavished gifts on me and my sister at Christmas and who lived in Fremont with my grandfather John, but frankly our relationship often felt strained for some reason. I would spend the night with my grandpa John and grandma Bev, but I never felt a good deal of warmth from them. I’m sure there was lots of love, but I think there was perhaps some difficulty in expressing it. To put it bluntly, I just never really knew my grandma Bev, and I tried to love her and get her to love me back, but I always felt a stoic coldness, a standoffish energy that quickly discouraged me from trying.
The Second shot, ironically I believe at my grandpa John’s house, was with my grandma Valma, my mom’s mom. Grandma Val and I were always close, and she knew how to connect with me from the start. We haven’t always agreed on politics or paths of life, but we’ve always loved each other, and she shared a spirit of adventure, of taste, and of a frankness of expression that my mother inherited, and hopefully I manifest from time to time. I love both my grandmas, and it may be horrible to say this, but I do have a favorite.