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Note: nd friends, was the ideal grandmother. She was old, soft, fluffy, smelled wonderful, sang songs, told stories, baked tarts, made us take vitamins because she loved us, told us about the funny things our mom and aunts and uncles had done as kids, knitted us innumerable afghans, gently scolded us when we misbehaved and fussed over us when we were "good", and even used a cane, just like grandmas are supposed to do! She had a sweet quivery voice still tinged with a pretty strong Lancashire accent. She spoke with the unrefined grammar of her unschooled childhood: "Them's the ones I was lookin' for!" ("lookin'" rhymed with "Luke-in"). Or she might say, "He's the one as I tole you about." I was always charmed by the way Gramma spoke. I used to try to imitate her!
BIOGRAPHY: My favorite stories were the stories of her childhood in the industrial village of Preston, Lancashire, England. I wish I could remember more. I vividly remember her telling me about growing up and working in the velvet factories of Preston. She was very proud of the fact that by the time she was 12 years old, she was so proficient at her duties and so reliable that "they" put her in charge of one of the big looms -- a job that was normally reserved for women 16 years and older. I seem to remember her telling me that she began working in the mills at eight years of age.
BIOGRAPHY: She used to speak wonderingly of having lived to see gaslight come into use during her childhood, then watching the televised pictures of rocket ships being launched into space in her old age of growing up to the clip-clop of horses hooves, and growing old in an era of jets.
BIOGRAPHY: She had lots of superstitions that she clung to. Never was salt spilled that some wasn't tossed over her shoulder ("Always toss it over your LEFT shoulder, Susan!") She would take me through the litany: If your hand itches, you will receive money. If your ears burn, someone is talking about you, etc. She delighted to relate the family "ghost" stories with a little thrill of dread. Yet she had such a sweet and simple faith in the Living God, and was confident of His great care and concern over every facet of her life. No "fate" or "luck" could compete with Him! One of my sweetest childhood memories is that of listening to Gramma's gentle voice quavering through one of the old hymns as she bustled around the kitchen.
BIOGRAPHY: One of the "ghost" stories she loved to tell concerned her own mother. Great Gramma Marsden had been quite a prankster when her children were growing up. When they left something lying messily about, she would snatch it away when they weren't looking, and hide it. She would let them hunt frantically for a while ("I KNOW I had it just a moment ago -- right HERE!"), give them a little lecture about putting things away, and then surreptitiously put it in some unexpected place. Of course it would ultimately be discovered, and Great Gramma would reiterate her lecture about "A place for everything and everything in its place." So after Great Gramma died, any time something disappeared from its supposed resting place, the cry would go up, "She's at it again!" And though the aunts and uncles were only teasing, I always had the feeling that Gramma really meant it!
BIOGRAPHY: Gram's favorite story, and the one she told with the most spectral voice and the most frequent glances over her shoulder, was the story of her own husband's funeral. After the funeral, she and one of my uncles, Lester I believe, were driving past the cemetery with the radio turned off out of respect to Grampa. Just as they rounded the corner of the cemetery, the radio lights popped on and the radio suddenly came to life with a merry tune that Grampa had always loved. It continued playing until the very moment they passed the far corner of the cemetery, and then it just as suddenly turned back off again! Gramma was absolutely convinced that this was her playful husband's way of telling her that he was happy and content, and she took great comfort in it, while enjoying the mystery of it all.
BIOGRAPHY: When we talked to her, we called her "Gram." And she usually called me by my full name, even though the rest of the family called me Sue. In many ways Gramma was a true "lady" of the old school, despite her humble background. She was never loud or rushed, was always considerate and interested in others, listened carefully and with interest, and appreciated a good story. On the other hand, her rambunctious sister Jane could easily embarrass her. Aunt Jane would tell a bawdy joke or sing an old pub song, and Gramma would burst out with an exasperated "Jane! Really!" to which Aunt Jane would happily and quite off-handedly reply, "Aw, leave me be, Maggie! I'm just havin' a little fun!"
Note: BIOGRAPHY: Gramma, or "Maggie" as she was known to family a
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