Song of the Rain (Chapter 1)

Gran and I at the fastfood after a visit to the doctor

Doting But Firm

I have read account after account of moms being problematic about the relationship of their children and the grandparents. In most magazines, moms complain of Grandma doting too much—to the point of spoiling the kids and undermining the rules set forth by Mom and Dad.

I’m the youngest of 20 grandchildren. My cousins call me Kid. We never went through that stage, and our mothers and fathers never had the dilemma of how to politely tell Gramps and Gran to back off a little. Our grandparents doted on us—Gran especially—but we never grew up spoiled.

And I will tell you how.

***

Before anything else, I have to point out that Gran was not like any grandmother you’d meet. She had her own way of nursing and nurturing us grandkids—and her children as well.

We all have legal names, but she christened us all, with new ones, once we were introduced to her, as babies. Isan (pron: ay-san), is Hatda. My cousin Colin is re-christened Koodit. I know. It’s miles away from Isan and Colin. Like I said, Gran is unique.

Uncle Mark explained the reason behind our unique names. The war between the Philippines and Japan was raging when Gran was a child. She was unfortunately hit by shrapnel. She was hard of hearing since then, and deciphers what people tell her through lip reading.  However, some names she can pronounce right. Like Mick (short for Michael) or Ann.

She looked after me as a baby. Mom, of course, could not write down the ratio of my formula milk or the feeding schedule, since Gran couldn’t read. That didn’t stop her from being the best babysitter ever. Dad said she would look down on me in my cradle and ask, “Do you want milk?” In reply, I’d look at the counter where my bottles and milk were. That would tell Gran that yes, I want some milk please.

The first memory I have of Gran was that she was always humming. All the time. There is one song she sang to me, though. I don’t know the title, but let’s call it the Song of the Rain. When I was around two, we’d sit under the tree waiting for my parents to come home from work. That would be the time she’d point to the clear blue sky and sing.

She stayed with us even when I started school. In my early years, there were times my parents had to come home late. Gran would always be there for back-up. She prepared my meals—and made sure I drank my milk—got me ready for school, and made sure I took a noontime nap. The nap is a routine started by Dad. She followed that naptime schedule to the dot. Whenever I tried to talk her out of it, she’d only smile and pat the bed. Her blue-grey eyes would smile. “Lie back down. Let’s take a nap.”

My parents had also forbidden me to eat candy. Whenever Gramps would give money and my cousins would return from the store with assorted candies, Gran would automatically tell them not to give me any. They knew, of course. But having our grandmother remind them would crush any plea before it comes out of me.

In magazines I have read, one candy would be all right for other grandmothers. If Mommy says no, Grandma would say, “Let him have one, he’s had dinner anyway. Just one.”

With my grandmother, a no from my parents would be an absolute no. To Gran, it was very simple: Mom and Dad said we should do this, so this we shall do. The reason I understood before was that she was doing it because my parents said so.

Looking back on it today, she did what she did because she respected the authority my parents have over me. She knew that Mom and Dad had their own way of raising a kid, and she didn’t interfere with it. Whenever Gran and I were left alone, she reinforced the authority of my parents. We did the established routine. There was no argument.

As early as pre-school, she told me she would not play Court of Appeals to whatever my parents tell me. In so doing, she made sure I never grew up spoiled.

***

As I write this, I could no longer hear Gran humming, or singing the Song of the Rain. The Great Conductor had given her a place at the Eternal Choir. I smile at the thought of her, up there, singing with the angelic bands. She sure is singing to her heart’s content.

 Just one question: would Gran be singing soprano or alto?