Silly Snapdragons

One night, back in high school, Marlie and I were riding home from a volleyball game with my parents and my Grandma Eckelman.  I wouldn’t say that the road we were travelling on was a country road, but my friends in LA would certainly call it that.  It was dark, and we were sleepy.  We came upon a house near the road, with the lights of the first story turned on, glowing yellow into the street.  And as we pass the light, my Grandma says, “I always knew someone lived there!”

Her tone was such that a great mystery had just been solved! And yet, not.  Not who lived there, or what was going on inside.  But just that she’d had a hunch that someone lived there and now, indeed, she had proof.  I can still hear her jubilant voice!  And how we all burst out laughing, and continued to giggle all the way home.  To this day, Marlie and I will still pass a house at night with a light on and say, “I always knew someone lived there.”

She could be really silly.  She could say the most random little zingers.  And when she really felt a laugh, it was tremendous.  I can hear it now!  A joyful guffaw that I gladly inherited.  She could also be really strict, and manners were very important.  When I was a kid, I didn’t understand why I couldn’t take the dangling crystals off the fancy lamp and wear them as earrings, or open the door of the grandfather clock and poke the pendulum.  I wasn’t allowed to go into her bedroom and carelessly turn the rotary phone wheel 100 times or run laps through the guest room’s walk in closet.  I had to eat Wheaties.  And vegetables.  And marmalade on burnt toast.  As a kid, I thought this was all a tragedy.

But those aren’t the memories that stuck.  As I reflect on my grandma, upon her death earlier this week, what comes to mind are those times that Marlie and I would be playing in their basement and her little head would pop out of the stairwell and she’d say, sing-song, “Well, I figured I’d better come down since you must miss me.” We’d immediately go into “show off” mode, asking her to play us in ping pong or pool, or making her a full meal WITH milkshake from our costume jewelry restaurant.  She’d show us the tiny little wooden trinkets that hung on the wall by the antique school desks, or pull something new to play with out of the storage room.  Eventually she’d head back upstairs to watch Perry Mason or Murder, She Wrote and leave us happy as clams.

My strongest memories, however, came at the end of the visits.  In front of the house, a little walkway ran from the driveway to the front door, encircling a cute little garden.  And in the garden, a few little stones that led to a small bench, and snapdragons.  Always snapdragons.  And see, I know they couldn’t always have been there, and I know there must have been other plants and flowers.  But all my heart remembers are snapdragons.  The garden had little lights that you could flip on from inside the front door; and the sweet garden glowed like a magical wonderland.  Whenever we were leaving, Grandma would take time to walk with Marlie and I in wonderland, and make the snapdragons talk with her fingers.  They would tell stories of their different colors and how silly they were to be talking to little girls!  I can still see the glow of wonderland, hear the talking snapdragons and feel warm quiet air of Tyrone Drive.

I have a bucket of memories, but the garden wonderland rises to the top.  It always has, since I was a kid.  I never see a snapdragon without thinking of sitting with grandma on that little bench, and I always stop to make one talk.  And one day, when I have my own child, I will introduce them to the silly colorful snapdragons that talk to little boys and girls.

My you rest in peace, Grandma.  You will be remembered so fondly.  I hope you are enjoying your return to health, your return to happiness and your return to love.