My Nanna Amongst Other Things....

My cousin Cathleen who is an extraordinarily gifted writer shared memories of Benson Lake -- a lake she spent time at with her father, (My Uncle Charlie) and her step mother, (My Aunt Dawn)at their weekend cabin. This got me to thinking about the lake I spent a lot of my childhood at, and lived at the last four years of high school.




Nanna (my mother's mother) originally bought this little cabin on this amazing little lake way back in the 50's I do believe. Lake Deaveraux was the lake -- adjacent to this lake was a girl scout camp. After she bought the cabin Nanna and her husband added on to it, and lived there quite happily for many many years until my parents bought the place from them in 1977 I believe.

Up until that time we'd spend weekends, parts of the summer, and any time we could beg out of our parents -- it was a magical place. It really was. At night you could hear the symphony of bull frogs as they called to one another as well as the crickets who would add their melody to the mix. It was common to see deer (or actually run into them when we would take out the trash), or flying squirlls -- in fact, Nanna had two pet raccoons, "Babe and Pepper" that she hand fed quite regularly much to her husbands chargin.

I am not sure what made it magical -- the place itself, or Nanna.

Nanna, Nanna, Nanna.... If I sit here in the quiet of the house, and if I close my eyes, and just sit with myself and I think of Nanna I can almost hear her laughter. It was this rich, full, buttery, yummy, laugh. And when she laughed, she laughed -- oh my God. She's throw her head back, and it would just roll out of her, and her entire body would laugh.

"Stop! Stop! Stop it! You are going to make me wet my pants! Dammit you guys!" she would cry as she would belly laugh with a cigarette in one hand and a cup of lukewarm coffee in the other.

Her eyes were emerald green, her hair in her prime was red, she also had a widows peak -- she loved the fact that some wondered if she was mystical. That always made me laugh.

She sure loved her lake. The stories she would tell about the lake late at night as we would lay in bed on warm summer nights were fantastic. The windows would be open, the breeze would drift lazily across our faces, and we'd fall asleep to tales of those who would gather at the lake.

Nanna was a people person and had this ability to draw people to her. It was nothing to have a house full of people on any given night, regardless if she had to get up to work the next day. She was also impulsive. I can remember one night around 9:30 or so -- again it was summertime my sister and I were in our nightgowns and a commercial for McDonald's Big Mac came on. One of us smacked our lips and said "That looks good!" Before I knew it we were loaded in the car headed to Bremerton, 17 miles a way to the drive through at McDonald's -- for a Big Mac and a Coke!

And of course with her impulsiveness came drama -- and lots of it. Looking back all the drama just makes me laugh now - even though it probably wasn't funny at the time.

I can remember being so proud of myself the day I swam across that lake with Nanna. My Aunt Novell, and Nanna's best friend shouted from the shore encouragements. I remember being scared, and Nanna coaxing me along -- "You can do it sweetheart, you are half way there" She told me a story about Indians she saw one night that were apparitions -- and I asked her through my paddling if she wasn't sure she hadn't drunk too much wine. No, no, she was earnest she saw Indian spirits -- she took her spirituality very seriously. As I swam along side of her I thought that aside from doing something extraordinary, I was swimming with a grandmother, and not just any old grandmother -- my grandmother was swimming the width of what I thought was a pretty big lake. As we made it to shore we sat on a big log and hugged each other -- the praise she gave me was amazing. And then I worried I'd catch hell from my mother for swimming across the lake.

Nanna said "We just don't need to tell her" and we laughed and laughed and laughed.

There are so many stories I could tell about Nanna. In fact, one time I got so angry with her because she said to me during a serious conversation that I shouldn't prostitute myself. I was appalled -- and thankfully my Mom interviened and referreed rather and explained that the term her mother was using wasn't being used in the context to which I interprated it as.

I think what's sad for me about Nanna is when I talk about her I am reminded that Cathleen didn't share the same relationship with Nanna as I did. And that's a damn shame -- she was an amazing, quirky, funny, genuine woman that I am told I am a lot like.

And that makes me happy.