As I watch the autumn leaves being pulled from the trees by the cool wind I’m reminded, summer is over. There is a peaceful silence in the house again with the kids in school. I flip through old photos taking a moment to reminisce.
Scanning the album of fond memories I’m drawn to my favourites. Candid shots resonate with me. I love how the camera captures the true essence of a person when they’re unaware the lens is focused on them.
When I come across the photos of Grandma Jessie’s 93 birthday, I remember the moment they were taken. My mom went out to her flower garden to snip a bouquet for the party. I snuck out the side door of my parent’s home, camera in hand, and captured the moment.
Jessie Lowis, my father’s mom, is a remarkable lady. She’s resided in Coronation her whole life, and in an assisted living home for the past ten years.
My journalism career is rooted in Grandma Jessie’s influence.
She retired after 21 years with the ‘Coronation Review’ at the age of 80. I was unable to attend her farewell party 13 years ago, as it was the same day I delivered a healthy little boy.
Little did I know at the time, I would be her replacement.
I first put my pen to paper at The Coronation Review in 2001. They recently celebrated 100 years in journalism; it was a great starting point for me.
Growing up, I remember Grandma’s typewriter on the kitchen table, notes on paper even on napkins, and stacks of pens. She preferred the pens with the string attached. Grandma hung one around her neck so it was always handy. Her phone was constantly ringing.
She wrote a weekly column, covering everything from birth announcements, to Sunday card game winners, to out of town visitors, anniversaries, and curling bonspiels.
It seemed to me, she always knew what was going on. She was always willing to stop and talk to someone, no matter where she was.
I admired her zeal to ask, “Excuse me, what’s your name? How do you spell that? Where are you from?” and “What’s your story?”
I marvel thinking back at how every grandchild received a luggage set for graduation but not me, I was blessed with a typewriter. She must have known I wasn’t destined to travel, but bound to follow in her footsteps.
Grandma always ended her column with a quote, a tradition I faithfully continue.
“A garden of love grows in a Grandmother’s heart.” -unknownPrint This Post