MORNINGS WITH GRANDMA SMITH

Every morning was a re-run of the one before. Out of my comfy bed at what I now know was 5:30 AM, dress in the uniform of the day for a preschool country kid, and go off to Grandma’s by 6:00. Mom and Dad both worked in Binghamton, and that seemed like a long way off to me. I know Mom had to be dropped off first and then my Dad had to be at his job by 7:00 AM. Mom’s job at Rosen Brothers Bag Co. didn’t start until 7:00 either, but she would have to kill the time between being delivered for the day, and when the work day started. For her brilliant mind sewing bags all day was boring and strenuous, but my I never heard my mother complain. My dad worked for New York State Department of Public Works as a truck driver. That was likely no picnic either, but combined with mom’s paycheck it put shoes on all eight Winfield children. When school began we each had 2 new outfits, sneakers, shoes, and boots for when the snow flew. I was the youngest child, and had to wear a lot of hand-me-down clothing including boots. I frequently had to “grow into them” for the entire season. They were always junk before my feet caught up.

Life at Granny Smith’s, however, was always exciting and new. Even rainy days were bright, cheerful, and filled with fun. I’d spend all day playing in the hayloft, eating apples off the trees in the orchards, or just rolling down the sloped lawn to lie in the grass and watch puffy white clouds float lazily across the azure sky. Winters I would ride my sled on the lawn or build snowmen in the back yard. It was all light and cheerful at Grandma's. Gran was never grouchy or angry, no matter what I did. The best part was that my sister wasn’t allowed to beat me at our Granny's. For safety sake, I stayed at Grandma’s side as much as possible.

As I stated, the day began at Grandma’s house about 6 AM. By 6:30 there would be fresh hot pancakes on the kitchen table. Steaming, they'd be heavily laden with butter and all the sugar or syrup I wanted. Granny would fry up bacon or sausage, and usually there would be fried potatoes on the side. I could have as many tall cold glasses of milk as I wanted, to flush it all down. Let me tell you. If you haven’t had hot pancakes with lots of butter and maple sugar on them, you haven’t lived.

After breakfast, during the clean up, Granny Smith requested payment for her services. While she scraped and washed the breakfast dishes, I was expected to sing. I had to sing loud to be heard by a woman in her late seventies who was also listening to the morning news from a Philco radio perched on a corner shelf above the kitchen table.

I knew all the songs. My young brain absorbed the words and music by listening to the ever present radio programs in Granny’s kitchen and the Motorola console radio in my living room at home. At home we later had a small black and white TV and once a week I could see and hear the top ten songs being sung by the performers on “Your Hit Parade”. I remember “Snooky” Lansen, Gizelle McKenzie, and Dorthy Collins, performing weekly. There was another regular male vocalist but I can’t recall his name.

Every morning I’d have to serenade Grandma while she worked around the kitchen. Sometimes she’d be working there half the morning, caning fruit or vegetables, and I’d still have to keep singing. The concert would be over when the day time soap operas came on the radio. It would be The Many Loves of Helen Trent, Guiding Light, or some other current drama capturing my Grandma’s attention. I needed to listen very carefully because I’d be live DVR (digital voice recorder). If she missed a word or a sound effect, I’d have to replay it for her verbatim. I was proud of my ability to remember all the dialogue long enough to keep Grandma current, and my sound effect repertoire was extensive.

I got more than I knew at the time, from my years of mornings in Grandma Smith’s kitchen. I learned to listen carefully and be able to recall what I’d heard. I even learned to carry a tune. That ability served me well in school. It helped me to be instrumental in starting a “Boy’s Chorus” in Sixth Grade. Later I brought in male voices to create the first “Mixed Chorus” in my high school. I sang in community choruses for many years, and could always hit the right notes. Decades later, I can still accurately recall the lyrics to hundreds of songs.

The greatest things I got from those preschool years and the summer months of early grade school, were more precious and irreplaceable than any talents I may have developed. The very best part of all those mornings and days with Grandma Smith was just spending time with her. I got to know her and love her while she gave me more love than I ever have, or likely ever will, receive from another person. I didn't have to share her time and attention with seven siblings. Most of the time it was just Grandma Smith and me.