Roger Pires August 20, 2009
When he's not offering his take on daily life, Roger Pires spends his days as a computer systems analyst. It's not exactly a glamorous calling but hey, it pays the bills. He enjoys hockey, canoeing, snowshoeing, and spending as much time as he possibly can outdoors. He lives in Udora with his wife and two kids, who are his prime inspiration for Ravenshoe Ramblings.
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Lessons from Granma
Monday mornings are usually slow at Our Lady of Fatima Catholic Church. With summer in Elliot Lake being short and elusive, Father Paul would normally welcome a dozen or so parishioners to a quiet weekday mass. But on this particular Monday, the pews would be full almost to capacity. Quiet conversations fluttered up from the foyer as people arrived; some in small groups, some alone. They had come to celebrate a life fully lived. Helena Martins - a member of the congregation, close friend, and my grandmother – had passed away in her 94th year.
Everyone who knew her had a favourite story about Grandma. They talked about her feistiness and how, even at 93, she could still deliver a punch line with the best of them. They remembered her smile, her warmth, the way she always made you feel welcome in her home. But it was her casual wisdom that topped the list of tributes to her. Grandma had a way of imparting a lesson that didn’t leave you feeling as if you’d been chewed out by the school principal. Life’s experiences simply flowed from her: in tales of her childhood; of life in the Depression; even in her trip to the mall that day.
She always had a story to tell. And her favourite was how she met my grandfather. Things between them didn’t exactly get off to a flying start. Grandpa had just returned to Portugal after spending several years in a far-off, magical land called England. He would walk to the café in the central square every morning dressed in a fedora and an overcoat with gigantic lapels. It was the height of fashion in Liverpool. In the small Portuguese town in which they both lived, this would’ve been the modern day equivalent of a rainbow Mohawk and knee-high, leather boots. Still, there was something charming about this gaudy “foreigner”. He always seemed to know where she would be on her mid-day break. They struck up a friendship and several short weeks later, they went out on a fully chaperoned date. Handholding was verboten in those days.
Yes, Grandma loved to tell a story. She must’ve often wondered though, if anything of value would get through to that bratty grandson of hers. I’m sure there were times when she was tempted to deliver her message of wisdom with something a little more forceful than kind words. But she never did. She knew patience was far more effective than a yardstick. She also knew that one day it would all click.
Grandma taught me a lot of valuable lessons. But there is one in particular that stands out amongst all the others. It’s one that, I think, best sums up what she was all about.
It happened many years ago when I had a lot more hair and none of it was gray. I had been visiting my parents and grandmother in Windsor. Grandma had an engagement in Toronto so she decided to accompany me on my trip back to the city where I lived at the time. Anyone who has driven that stretch of Highway 401, knows it’s like driving past the same farmer’s field for four hours. Good conversation is a valuable commodity on such a long trek. So Grandma and I had a lot of time to catch up.
We talked about many subjects, most of which are long forgotten. But there is one thing she told me that I never forgot, a piece of advice that I continue to live by today. And that is: value your relationships with others. She had her Tony, my grandfather and her husband of many years. They had a wonderful life together because they valued each other’s company. And after he passed, my grandmother valued the relationship she had with her daughter – my mother. Helena made many friends over the years and cherished them all.
Being 21 or whatever and with wild oats yet to sow, I filed our conversation in the back of the vault and forgot about it. Several years later, I was dating this wonderful lady and things were going well. But I wasn’t sure what to do next. The path forward was unclear and full of distractions. One sleepless night, I remembered that conversation I had with Grandma on a lonely stretch of highway many years ago. I pulled it out of the vault and dusted it off. I thought long and hard about her and Grandpa and how much they valued each other.
I made up my mind. I knew what to do.
That wonderful lady is now my wife, Brenda, and fifteen years later we have a son and daughter and our own relationships – with each other, with our kids, with our friends – are all a testament to my grandmother’s wisdom.
Relationships. They are our most treasured possessions. My grandmother taught me that. Thanks Grandma.
