Ode to Step-Mothers and Grandmothers.

It has been an interesting week and got me reminiscing about my step grandmothers. Mike and I spent the last seven days working on his daughter’s new home in Columbia MO. It is the first time, really, that I have spent an appreciable amount of time with Stephanie and her adorable little boy Eli (it’s spelled with a “y”, why no it’s spelled with an “i”). We painted and painted. And I got to do a little art work for Eli myself. It felt good.. Good because he loved his new room. Good because I felt like it was a gift that I could give that showed a part of me. Good because it gave Stephanie and I a chance to bond and get to know one another. Here is my gift to Eli

Ethel the Elephant
Gilly the Giraffe and Harry the Hippo
Tommy the Toucan

Of course it has been a long time in coming, us meeting and all. Divorce for Mike and his family has been rather hard and as I know all too well, the kids are often in the middle, torn between the happiness of one parent and the sadness and despair of another. I too have been there. I watched my parents’ divorce, the repercussions of which still are felt today. I have a continued loving relationship with the happy parent and the tension, anger and regret with the unhappy one. Their separation and divorce was 20 years ago, with the failure of the marriage decades in the making. So, how does one become a step mom and not make the kids feel badly—badly for their mother and badly because they are happy for their father? Interestingly, I had two wonderful step grandmothers to serve as examples-Grandma Ginny and my Oma, Liesel.

When I was just a year old or so, my Grandfather remarried a lovely woman: Virginia (now that is the way to start a great relationship—a fabulous name after a fabulous state that is home to Mecca aka Monticello) Harris—known to me as Grandma Ginny. Apparently there was a bit of drama between Grandpa, Grandma Ginny and my Grandma Liz (my Mom’s mom). Something involving alcohol, claims of ownership over me, the baby granddaughter, storming in and out (you get the picture)…that ultimately resolved very well. Grandma Ginny was the dream grandma. She had this big house in Festus (what seemed like “over the river and through the woods” from South County) and when we went there she always cooked fried chicken, dumplings and homemade biscuits. They were like butter I tell you. Along with her, came her children (my new Aunts and Uncles) and their kids (my new cousins) and that was the best. I now had real live relatives. Fun, spunky. Those were great memories down there. Grandma Ginny was kind and she had the greatest laugh ever. She wrote me letters all the time even into adulthood until she passed away. She was the comfort food of Grandmothers. She even had pieced ears! Wow! And you know as a kid, she was just my Grandma. I didn’t know or even care that we were not blood related. I loved her and her family like they were my very own. And the funny thing is I think my Mom had a real connection with her and loved her more than her own mother. I’m not making a judgment about that because, my mom and her mother were never close or had a great relationship. So, I am glad that my mom had Grandma Ginny. I mean, really, is there anything wrong with having more people love you??? Is there anything wrong with have more family to enjoy and love and share life events with?

Grandma Ginny and Grandpa

And the really interesting part is that whenever we all got together over the years—my Grandpa, Grandma Ginny and Grandma Liz, the three of them acted like they were old chums. I mean, they really did get along just fine in the end. I thank Mom for making them come together for holidays. And I’m sure it was hard for my Grandma Liz at first, but she drank a few beers before hand and did it for us, for me and my brother. And after a while, Grandma Liz stopped caring about the hubbub and probably realized that she was happier without Grandpa. I mean she always thought he was a stick in the mud and so “good riddins” she used to say. She was a party animal and quite frankly he cramped her style. So, I thank them all for making it through. I thank God I had Grandma Ginny, the perfect step-mother and grandmother.

Yep that's my Grandma Liz in the center. Step Grandma Ginny on the right and Grandpa on the left.

And for the second step-grandma—or ”Oma” as they call them in Germany, I had Liesel. I had a completely different, but equally as good, relationship with my father’s step mother. My Dad’s mother, who I called “Omie”, died when I was only six years old. I loved her dearly. But, my grandfather, called “Opa”, was lost without her (at least as I saw it) and met a lovely lady, named Liesel. They got married in Kentucky just about 9 months after Omie died. Liesel brought with her, a son and family that lived in Kentucky. They too were cherished by me as I grew up. They welcomed me to their home and I spent many a summer day and night in my beloved Somerset, Kentucky. I went to state fairs, saw horse shows and met boys who were perfectly southern. My Aunt Jan introduced me to her family and they took us to the Lake Cumberland for unforgettable summer memories. I got all of that because Liesel was my step-grandmother.

Now she was not your typical Oma. She didn’t cook, so she always had fabulous Jewish deli food when we came over. And since she had been friends with my Omie, their friendships with other Holocaust survivors continued. Whenever they got together, whenever they didn’t want us kids to know what they were saying, they would start talking German! Yes, my Omie, Opa and Liesel (along with their friends) were Holocaust survivors. You have no idea the richness that their lives, their experiences, their losses and their stories have had on my life.
Oma and Ryan (circa 1983)

Liesel’s family I Germany, fearing the worst under Hitler, wrote a letter to a very distant relative in the states (in St Louis) and asked them to meet their 16 year old Liesel at the dock in New York. Not knowing whether anyone would greet her, Liesel bravely came to America, alone, speaking only German, fearing the worst for her family and fearing that her relatives wouldn’t be there to meet her. But they were. Liesel and ultimately her father came to America and they survived in St. Louis making noodles in their one room apartment. Wow! Can you imagine that today? We can’t leave our kids for a second without a cell phone, texts, email, Facebook, twitter. Can you imagine being so afraid for your child that you send her off to the unknown hoping, praying the cosmos will take care. But, I didn’t even know this story until I was an adult. I just knew growing up that she was, well, Liesel. And I guess because my Opa begged me and even tried to bribe me ($10), that I could never call her Oma. I just couldn’t. Maybe I wasn’t brave or maybe I thought I owed something to Omie. It something I regret all these years later. Liesel too was kind, generous and loved me like I was her grandchild. She loved Ryan too. She was my Oma.

My brother Peter and Me and our new cousins, Julie and Jeremy from Kentucky.

So you see, having step parents/grandparents can be magnificent. It starts hard, no doubt, but I hope I can bring to Mike’s grandchildren love, fun, warmth, and memories for a lifetime. And for his kids, I hope they will consider me their friend one day, even love me as I already do them.