I was fortunate enough to spend the first 8 years of my life knowing my Great-Grandmother.  Not all children have this opportunity.  She was kind and I have a few fond memories of sitting on her lap in her rocking chair or beside her when she got older and couldn’t support my weight on her legs.  She passed away at age 93.  I was in third grade and as I got older I learned more and more about her from her grandson, my father. 

In recent days, with all of the economic turmoil our country is in, I’ve been thinking about her a lot and the “lessons” she taught me via my father’s recollections.  You see, my Great-Grandmother lived during the Great Depression.  It was a rough time for her and her family and it definitely shaped her world view.  Every Christmas, she bought me a new coat and shoes.  When she was too old to do it herself, she gave my parents or my Great-Aunt money to do so.  These were very important items for me to have in her opinion.  As we all heard in our history classes, people were homeless, cold, wearing shoes lined with newspaper.  I don’t know if my Great-Grandmother ever had to line her shoes with newspaper but she was always concerned about how I was dressed and if I had enough clothes. 

After my Great-Grandmother passed away, my father, mother and I went to her townhouse in Baltimore.  It was in a declining neighborhood near Eastern Avenue.  We walked in and the place looked like it had been robbed.  And in a way, it had.  Not by burgulars or strangers, but by our own relatives.

Due to my Great-Grandmother’s skepticism about banks and other financial institutions, she hid all of her “wealth” in her house.  Jewelry hidden around the house and more importantly, money in Jello boxes.  Lots of money apparently.  Enough for my other relatives to make a trip in the middle of the night to get the Jello boxes and other hidden items.  I remember my Dad going into the kitchen and the cupboards were all open.  There were open Jello boxes on the floor.  No money left in them.  Dad was angry and muttered a few words under his breath.  Apparently, that money was left to someone else in her will than the people who got it.  I’m not sure whatever happened with that money or if it was ever settled.  Maybe I’ll ask Dad about this sometime soon.

What I do remember was my father turning to me and asking, “Is there anything you would like to have?  To remember your Great-Grandmother?”  Since we were in the kitchen, I asked for a particular juice glass.  It was the glass she served me orange juice in every time we visited.  It was a small glass with yellow and orange flowers on it.  The other thing I wanted was the rocking chair.  Mom was hesitant about this one as my Great-Grandmother didn’t have much control of her bowel movements in her last year and that chair was in rough shape.  But we took it anyway.

We still have the rocking chair.  It’s in storage at my parent’s house and one day, Mom and I will recover it (again — Mom recovered it after we took it home) to match whatever decor I have at the time.  Unfortunately, the orange juice glass broke a few years later.  However, I think the one thing which will never break or deteriorate, is the memory of those Jello boxes.  And everything they symbolize.  Fear of the banks failure.  Ruthlessness of those close to you during a vulnerable time.

With the recent economic downturn, I’ve actually thought about putting a few bucks into Jello boxes.  We’re supposed to keep a couple hundred on hand in our ”readiness” bags anyway right?  Maybe she had the right idea.  Maybe I’ll put a few boxes of Jello into a readiness bag and stash some cash there as well.  That way, we can enjoy some orange Jello and have money to buy whatever it is we’ll need to get during armageddon.