"Cooling Water From Grandma's Well"

Devin Joseph Metz

"Grandmas hold our tiny hands for just a little while, but our hearts forever." - Author Unknown

Wise words indeed. Those close to me - be it a family member or close friend - know how large of a portion of my heart is reserved for my Grandmother. She is in many ways responsible for a lot of the mannerisms and traits that I exude to this day. A wealth of knowledge, wisdom, understanding, care, honesty and love was always in abundant display whenever my Grandmother was around. Many of us are only able to visit our grandparents during holidays and special family gatherings. Some of us make that random visit and end up staying well into the next day. I even know of a few of my friends that don't really have the best relationship with their grandparents; leaving them feeling awkward whenever they visit. I've even spoken to a few of my friends that claim to only visit their grandparents when they feel that it is absolutely necessary to do so. To this day, I remind them how important that person is to their life and how important they may be to their grandparent's life. It is a bond that I won't soon let go of and surely have never and will never regret for as long as I live.

The connection between a grandparent and a child is a very special one indeed. It is different from any other bond in the fact that although we as people carry the potential to learn from each other every day, the gems of insight and wisdom swapped between a grandparent and child take place with a higher degree of frequency than most other bonds forged in my opinion. To be honest, I believe that the young mind and that of an elderly person are the two minds that would be more receptive to reason and possibility than the thought processes of anyone in between these two. I know that most people deemed older in age have the "Set In Their Ways" stigma attached to them; and that statement is proven true to some extent. What most people often never realize, however is that most of that "Out-Of-The-Box" thinking that we do is a result of conversing that has taken place with our grandparents. That along with the lessons we are taught and the answers that are divulged when we have tried just about everything else that we could think of is usually a direct result of the wisdom imparted to us by our grandparents.

Lend some thought to this process and determine whether or not it makes sense to you:

The grandparent answers as many inquiries as he/she can that are provided to them by the child; broadening that child's mind and teaching the child invaluable skills along the lines of consideration for others, deduction, examination, experimentation and many other skills and traits that we often take for granted as adults; especially while using these gifts on a daily basis.

The child lends help to the memory of the grandparent; who in turn recounts fond portions of his/her childhood and how similar or differential things were in comparison. This recollection leads to some of the most wholesome, entertaining and sometimes even humorous stories that we as children have been told by our grandparents; and there is usually a nugget or three of wisdom along with a few morals in each story.

Makes more sense now, I presume. Both share a large amount of receptiveness; therefore allowing each other to teach the other something; whether that lesson be received in lieu of a question asked or a story told in fond memory.

This highly resembles the relationship that my Grandmother and I have shared. We actually had so close of a relationship that if it had not been for the glaring difference in our age, one would presume that she was my Mother in some regard. 

My Grandmother owned a "shotgun double" fashioned house in Uptown New Orleans, Louisiana. Around the time of my birth, my Mother was living on one side of the house and my Grandmother stayed on the other side. My Mother and Grandmother didn't have the best relationship; which was something that often befuddled me in my youth. I couldn't conceive how two people that seemed so much alike could possibly oppose each other as vehemently as my Mother and Grandmother did. There were a number of arguments and they hardly ever pulled any punches when it came to the other person's feelings. It was rather heart breaking to watch as a young boy; mainly because I often felt like I was stuck in the middle of it even when they both would assure me that I wasn't. I never felt responsible for their disliking of each other; but it was hard to ignore that I felt as if I would have to make a choice one day between the two. 

That choice along with a number of other things that have happened in my youth as early as ten years of age are why one would often hear me claim to have been robbed of a considerable portion of my childhood. Although I have many times stated this in a joking manner, I have always seriously believed this to have happened. I believe that this may have served as a blessing and a curse for me. 

Go figure...

My Mother moved out of my Grandmother's house when I was a little older than ten; leaving my five year old brother and I to decide whether or not we wanted to go with her or stay with our Grandmother. Many people at this time perceived this decision by my Mother as a cruel and unloving act; believing that we shouldn't have been placed in the position to make a decision one way or another. My Grandmother shared this concern. 

As I have grown, however I have gained a better understanding of why my Mother did this. She didn't want to leave; but she couldn't ignore the considerable toll that the fights between her and my Grandmother took on my Brother and I. She also knew how close we were to our Grandmother and did not want to break that bond, either. Suffice it to say, my Mother's decision to leave was in many ways considered more high risk than high reward. There was always the potential to have lost us completely to our Grandmother. This is not in the sense of possession but rather in the sense of allegiance and trust. 

The close relationship that my Mother and I have today is just as strong as the one I shared with my Grandmother as a child, though; and that is definitely something to thank God for.

I spent much of my youth well into my teen years caring for my Grandmother and little brother. A lot of the upkeep and cooking skills that I put to use nowadays comes from what I was taught in my youth by my Grandmother. Keep in mind that this was during a time when I was still riding the bus to and from school, doing homework and projects and still managing to get chores done around the house.
 
I had quite the exciting childhood.

I never griped, however. I felt that I really had no reason to; especially since my Grandmother's health was declining steadily. She suffered with Diabetes; so I quickly became familiar with her insulin regimen; issuing it to her twice daily(this is the best explanation for me having no fear of needles) and making sure that there was chocolate and juice on hand for whenever she experienced one of her episodes. This was a rather arduous time in my life to say the very least. There were nights when I wasn't necessarily sure if she was okay or not; so I would sit by her side and even leave my room to sleep next to her for fear of her getting sick and not being able to call for me.

 Come to think of it, that would explain my insomnia; but I digress.

My teenage years saw me undergo a considerable spike in my maturity as a young man; and by the time I was seventeen, I found myself having to make yet another rough decision. Arguments and various disagreements surfaced between my Grandmother and I; many of them too emotional to willfully recall. Neither of us wanted to acknowledge or even accept it; but I was outgrowing both my surroundings and her style of parenting. The one thing that really remained intact was her guidance; but for all the times that we would spend together learning from each other, there were just as many arguments if not more. 

It became fully apparent that it was time for me to leave; so shortly after graduating high school, I moved out of her house and went to live with my Mother. My Brother tagged along as well, of course. It was very hard for me to do; but I felt at the time that it was necessary. She would not be home alone, of course: my Uncles were there to look after her; many of them living there while my Brother and I were still there.

 There was a brief back and forth between my Grandmother and Mother about my decision to leave; but all was laid to rest soon thereafter. I began to notice how much of an influence she was to me as I seamlessly applied certain practices and habits that were cultivated while living with my Grandmother. My Mother told me often that if her Mother gave me nothing else, she definitely gave me structure. That was always evident and apparent to her. 

My Grandmother was a very, very proud woman. It was her very essence. Her zeal, if you will. She was in many ways one of the cornerstones of my Mother's side of the family. She always knew what to say, when to say it, how to say it and how it would affect the person she would tell it to. She never was one for pulling punches when it came to telling the truth; and she didn't believe in withholding the truth for the sake of one's emotional protection. There were a number of quotes and sayings that even to this day stand in front of me clear as the new day; but this one definitely strikes with great poignancy:

"I'm not gonna hide the truth from anyone. Hell, people have been hiding from the truth for years. The truth can walk around and never feel threatened. That's the problem."

She's a strong one for sure.


During Hurricane Katrina, we went back to her house to get her out of it as the roof was completely torn off of the house and the foundation was sure to crumble eventually. She was initially very stubborn; refusing to leave the house that her and my Grandfather worked so hard to acquire; but we were eventually able to coerce her into leaving; assuring her that it was for her own safety. It was the best decision for sure as we found out later on after the entire city flooded that her area of the neighborhood was completely submerged regardless of how high the houses were. We were able to regulate her medicine and supplies until we were able to exit the city days later; meeting in Baton Rouge with relatives that took us to LaPlace, Louisiana for the remainder of the year until the city was safe for return. While there, her health took a critical turn for the worse; especially after learning that one of my Uncles had drowned not far from her residence. Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years passed by while my Grandmother spent the rest of the year in a medical facility. 

Once January arrived, we found ourselves ready to pack and return home. Not long after returning, we placed her in hospice back home in New Orleans where she was under treatment constantly; but there was no substantial or even minuscule improvement in her health at all.

My Grandmother was born on March 13th. She didn't make it to her birthday the following year after the storm; passing away early February 2006 while still in hospice. I believe I slept and cried that entire day. That was the only day that I really felt any pain from that occurrence, though. The following weekend was her funeral. My Mother and I prepared the programs, arranged the service and made sure that everyone who could possibly make it to the service was there. 

I wanted to deliver her eulogy; electing to do so in the form of a poem. I couldn't shed a tear. I felt that familiar comfort that only she were able to impart to me as I read each stanza. The light from the mosaics shined bright and brilliant as I continued to read. Amid a church filled with misty eyes and people shouting, I found solace in knowing that this amazing woman that I have looked up to, marveled after and cared for my entire life up to that very point could finally rest.

 The program in its entirety was placed on a plaque that currently shares the same room as my Grandmother: Per her request, we had her cremated and she now sits in the living room of my Mother's house.

Although it isn't the same piece that I read at her funeral, here is the link to my Poetry blog for a piece in wrote December 2nd, 2010 in memory of her entitled "The Kitchen Table":


 http://thirstforinspiration.blogspot.com/2010/12/kitchen-table.html

I never got to meet my Grandfather, unfortunately. He disappeared a few years before I was born. From what I gathered from my Grandmother, Mother and other members of my family that knew him well, he was always rather demure and thoughtful; remaining calm through most anything until he observed someone distraught or vexed by something. He is often described as "one who wore a cape that no one ever saw;" implying that he wanted to solve everyone's issues. I can certainly share that trait. It wasn't until I finally accepted that I can't save everyone that I actually found some solace in just doing the very best that I can no matter the outcome.

One or two of my Uncles recall him being a big flirt; which I find very humorous as one of the two who happened to share this with me is quite the womanizer himself. As far as I'm concerned, I'll take my lumps for being a flirt of sorts; but I am in no regard a womanizer.

Don't look at me like that...

My Grandfather served in the Vietnam War; returning home in 1975. From those closest to him, he was evidently shell-shocked from what he experienced in combat. This took a seemingly irreversible toll on his psyche; which coupled with Alzheimer's disease only complicated matters further. He underwent stints of violent behavior then substantial memory loss; all while suffering seizures and nightmares in spells. Ever devoted, my Grandmother did what she could to take care of him in his dilapidated state; hoping that his faculties would improve at some point. 

In a recurrent conversing that I've had with my Grandmother, she stated that she knew that he may never return to the man that she knew before the war; but she always held out hope. When I inquired about his death, she stated that he left home one day and never returned. She asked around the neighborhood about him and even got the police involved in a search for him; but there were no leads regarding his whereabouts. I recall her saying that the police did find a body that they took to the morgue that fit the description that she gave them. She stated, however that when she went to view the body, she had not recognized the man as her husband. To this day, only my Grandmother really knows the truth about what happened to my Grandfather. I believe she may actually know and just refuses to recount said events; which I completely understand. My Grandmother took this bit of the unsolved to her grave.

Aside from the tragic, I've been told wonderful stories by my relatives regarding my Grandfather. Many of them I've compiled into a piece that I wrote about him on September 21st, 2011 entitled "The Man I Never Met." The link is below:


 http://thirstforinspiration.blogspot.com/2011/09/man-i-never-met.html


 Grandparents are those irreplaceable, undeniable, truly valued people in our lives that affect us in so many different ways. Grandparents are our link to the past; revealing to us reasons for why we are inclined to lead our lives in manners of our choosing. Very little of what we are as individuals is purely coincidental or a direct result of circumstance. There is an explanation for a considerable amount of what we delve into in our daily lives; and more often than not, the answers to why we are, what we are, what we do , why we do it and so many other inquiries rest within relatives of earlier descent; especially our grandparents. They love like no one ever could, cook better than anyone you'll ever eat from, understand the complexities of our lives thoroughly and seem to be masterful at helping us reach that very understanding for ourselves. No great feat, rare treasure or large amassing of any kind could ever hold a light to what my Grandmother means to me. She is my constant in a life filled with variables. She was that drink of cool water when life appeared determined to run me ragged.

I Love You, Grandmother. I can still see that smile that would fill an entire room with warmth and comfort.Rest well. <3

"Grandma's Hands" by Bill Withers

Grandma's hands clapped in church on Sunday morning.
Grandma's hands played the tambourine so well.
Grandma's hands used to issue out a warning,
She'd say, “Billy don't you run so fast,
Might fall on a piece of glass,
Might be snakes there in that grass,”
Grandma's hands.

Grandma's hands sooth the local unwed mother
Grandma's hands used to ache sometimes and swell
Grandma's hands used to lift her face and tell her,
She'd say, “Baby Grandma understands,
That you really loved that man,
Put yourself in Jesus' hands.”
Grandma's Hands.

Grandma's hands used to hand me piece of candy.
Grandma's hands picked me up each time I fell.
Grandma's hands, boy the really came in handy
She'd say, “ Mattie don't you whip that boy.
What you want to spank him for?
He didn't drop no apple core,”
But I don't have Grandma anymore,
If I get to heaven I'll look for
Grandma's hands.

 

"As Long As I Don't Change..."

Devin Joseph Metz

This is a very personal topic for me; likely due to the fact that I am still undergoing a lot of what will be elaborated and expounded upon in this entry. Feel free to share your personal struggles with us if you can relate.

"Now that I'm on, I don't really want to worry about getting back on.
I'm just trying to stay on, get my f*****g buffet on..."

- Drake from his song "The Resistance" on "Thank Me Later"

As an avid Drake fan(Yes. We do exist; and no. We all didn't surface around the time "So Far Gone" was released), I can most definitely relate to what he means here. We as people definitely pick our spots in life; and that has never become more apparent than when change sweeps over us. As obvious as it is to state this, it bears reiterating that change is inevitable; and along with that inevitability comes the unfortunate opposition to it. What was initially peculiar has now become commonplace: Positive change will always garner more opposition than most anything else.

Necessary change is in my opinion the sole martyr in this consideration. When one reaches a point in his/her life where they are faced with necessary change, everyone won't be on board with the decisions that will ensue; regardless of whether the change is due to dire circumstances, abrupt occurrences or just positive growth in the right situation for the person in the center of that experience. Of course, change rarely affects just the person undergoing it. There will almost always be a number of people affected by the choices of one; and these choices usually come about by changes that have already taken place or those that will have to take place at some point.

In the aforementioned quote, Drake is referring to the very understandable truth that no one aspires to struggle their entire life. We don't have dreams about working to make it to a certain plateau in life. We have dreams about being on that plateau already and much further beyond that point. No one with realistic goals include among them struggling for the sake of always having to.

 

Exactly, Hov. It likely never dawns upon those who disparage the accomplished and those further along in their life's endeavors that the very people they display such groundless hatred towards are the same ones they lauded when said people were working their way up to the point where he/she may currently find themselves. Sort of brings to mind that timeless saying about crabs in a barrel, doesn't it?

I can't say that I find it too peculiar that we cheer for the underdog and jeer at those who have garnered considerable accomplishment to some degree. It isn't so much scientific fact as it is common knowledge that we all pull for the ones putting forth the effort to reach areas of their lives that they may have never been in before; especially if their reasons for never reaching these points in life involve something circumstantial such as wrongful displacement or refusal or never being allotted the opportunity. Additionally, there are times where our distaste for the accomplished among us is substantiated justly; such as if that faction or person intentionally endeavored to keep those deemed less accomplished from advancing further or if the person or people involved display very pompous or arrogant behavior.

So what of those who are exalted and praised for their efforts that actually attain what it is that they have worked so hard for? What happens to those who have done everything they have aspired to do and have started plotting new journeys, conquests, etc. based upon where they now currently find themselves? Are they destined to now relinquish their role as everyone's favorite protagonist for a staunchly opinionated society ready to place the mantle of most hated upon his/her shoulders? This should disclose the viable possibility that even some of the most accomplished people we share such disdain for now may have at one point been the same person that we cheered on for not having what those of greater fortune have.

Humans are strange creatures indeed.

We humans. We who have placed science in the path of those inclined to their own means of religion for the sake of impedance....we who stand firm to our belief that man is meant to evolve and prosper considerably from that evolution for what may likely be an unexplainable reason altogether can't seem to make sense of why we don't praise accomplishment as much as we do the progression that led them there. This is ever present in occupational promotion, team accomplishment, societal accolades and even closer to home: family situations.

The latter I can definitely relate to in a number of ways. The hardest form of opposition one will ever have to face in my opinion when it comes to necessary change will come from those closest to us. That places in the overall scope of things one's family; but this may and in some instances does include close friends, love interests, etc. When we reach critical junctures in our growth as individuals(especially in our youth), there are decisions that will be made regardless of whether or not others believe we are ready. These decisions are almost always life changing occurrences that alter our lives permanently. Loved ones are usually the first among all else who would oppose these cornerstone events in life; no matter how beneficial it may present itself to be in the long run. 

I am approaching seven months in my marriage and I stand as a living testimony to the turbulent, tumultuous trials that have befallen me as a result of my decision to get married and a litany of decisions I have made afterward; but I always kept in mind that no one truly knows what is good for them. We have a God for that; and if I am led to something positive, it was for reasons I nor any who oppose stand to understand yet. Likewise, if I am to be led to something unfortunate such as a shortcoming or a brief impedance, I am more than sure that the lesson in it all is a positive one even if the outcome is dreary.

For the sake of those who have studied Socialism, those who oppose change in most any variety are defined as Functionalists. Those who adhere to this term abhor anything that disrupts what they believe is the natural order of things. Their ebb and flow is all their own; regardless of any evident issues or lack of productivity. Functionalists believe that change is the oppressor of continuity; even if that continuity is skewed or riddled with glaring flaws. The correlation with change here comes when we apply this knowledge to those who oppose the changes that we make in our own lives respectively. There are some who will oppose your decisions out of fear for what may or may not surface. Some will denounce your actions in lieu of change out of some groundless notion that you owe them the charge(or even penance in some cases) of remaining in your current position. The former is completely understandable while the latter is very selfish; although it may stem from some decisively hidden form of fear as well.

How those closest to us respond to our decisions to embrace change will reveal a lot about those closest to us; including any underlying ulterior motives, deep seated feelings, things that they may have been mulling over during the decisions we have pondered, etc. When a close loved one such as a parent or sibling responds negatively to an impending change or one that is currently taking place in our lives, it potentially creates a very emotionally charged disconnect between us and those that we hold dear. This becomes increasingly difficult to deal with; especially if one is completely convinced that he/she is making the decision necessary moving forward. Anything good rarely ever really surfaces as a result of this disconnect. Things become awkward and uncomfortable, we are viewed in a different light, new and often unsavory opinions are shaped and in much more delicate instances, there tend to be confrontations or deliberate lapses in communication that drive a seemingly permanent rift between us and those who oppose the decisions we settle upon as a result of changes that must take place in our lives.

Whether necessary, foolish, unexplainable or completely misunderstood altogether, change will happen; and it usually isn't easy for any of the parties involved. To avoid the disconnect that may take place, these changes should be discussed instead of avoided or argued over. There must be an understanding of all individual feelings and concerns among other things involved surrounding any change; preferably before it happens. Nothing hurts worse than feeling like you are forced to undergo this change alone. It isn't always about the need for support or even losing someone we love when one arrives at a certain point in life.

What is most difficult yet highly important about change is that any decision involving change must be yours and yours alone. There is no doubt that there will be influences abound that will help to shape the decision; but if the final say does not involve what you decide rather than what one decides on your behalf or in spite of what you wish, that is pretty much the equivalent of working hard so that your money could be seized and issued to you in portioned allowances; and I don't anticipate that I will meet anyone that is okay with that.

To some degree, we should disregard the stance of others when making certain decisions; especially if they appear life altering. Doing so does not necessarily constitute arrogance or a display of stubborn behavior; contrary to what others may perceive. Our paths in life have been predetermined to an extent but all are subject to change; and when the time comes to make that shift in our lives, we must do so with a measure of confidence, understanding and faith. Change is different from most journeys because one's transition in life may take place during another person's transition; be it similar or differential in variance. Regardless of the number of changes that occur between us, it is up to every individual to decide when they are ready to embark upon it.



It might not be the road seldom traveled; but it is an experience that carries a great deal of exclusivity.

Besides, if we all went through the same change in life, we would never learn from or about each other.