Her name was Helen Higgins but everybody called her Granny Hig. My dad called her simply, “Hig.” To many of us, she was Granny or Gran.

My grandmother lived in an apartment on the lower level of my Aunt Joan’s house. My memory of that apartment has begun to fade. I recall a blue room, a white chenille bedspread and the view from her window. In the livingroom hung pictures of the men in her life; John Wayne, large, and Jesus Christ, small.

In later years she recovered her couch with a wild animal print and by that I do not mean leopard or zebra, rather a print with lions and tigers on it. I like to think it reflected her wild streak.

She liked to drive and had a particular habit of clicking the fingernails on her left hand together as she steered. She named her cars; Flash is one I remember. Her purse, which she called a pocketbook, was huge and white and contained tissues, lipstick and Lifesavers. An overloaded passenger, it sat beside her on the seat of the car.

When she scolded us, which wasn’t often, she used our middle names; “Jaimee Lynn! Jan Elizabeth! Brock Matthew!” The more often I got in trouble alongside a particular cousin, the more likely I am to remember or know his or her middle name.

In the summers, she would don a swimsuit with a skirt, a swimcap and drugstore flipflops to walk to the backyard pool. Her toenails were painted red. She swam laps before the young kids were up and about. For three winters in a row, my family brought her to Florida with us and it was there my Granny taught me how to swim. We’d float on our backs, I in my Winnie-the-Pooh or Snoopy swimsuit and she in her swimcap, basking in the tropical sun. She was unendingly patient, and is the reason I know how to swim.

Christmas was her season. Her apartment became a Christmas village and Santa’s workshop all together. She shopped the year ’round and by the time the holidays arrived her apartment was heaped high with wrapped gifts, some of them from Santa. There were gifts for her three daughters, her son and their spouses, many grandchildren and a few great-grandchildren.

She didn’t have much, but always made us feel spoiled. She was resourceful, saving holiday cards from one year to cut up and create gift tags for the next. When she shopped, if she found something she liked for one of us, all the girls would get one. I know for a fact that at least two of my cousins and I have the same jewelry box to this day.

It is of my Granny that I think each year as I pack boxes to ship, wrap gifts and make out cards. She was so kind, generous and thoughtful, giving everyone a bit of herself in each gift.

So this year, my gift to you is a glimpse of my Granny. She was as much Santa as there ever was, and we all miss her this holiday season.

This entry was posted on Monday, December 11th, 2006 at 11:15 am and is filed under Family. 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.