Because I’m the youngest grandchild by a good ten years, my cousins all have many more memories of family celebrations and momentous occasions. I was three when she died, and always felt a little left out growing up. My sole memory of Grammy is that she wore black reading glasses on a chain around her neck and if she wasn’t careful they’d swing forward and bop me on the nose when she hugged me. Rumor has it that, as a baby, I was so fascinated by her pearls she had to tuck them inside her shirt. I’ll take my mother’s word for it.
Grammy was a librarian at Lyons Township High School in La Grange, Illinois. Like me, she went back to school later in life. Unlike me, however, she had a husband, three kids, and a dog to take care of. I have no idea how she did it.
Grammy attended Rosary College--now Dominican University--when my mother was in junior high. She didn’t drive, which meant my grandfather would drive her up to River Forest and back (round trip was about an hour) so she could attend classes. She was firmly ensconced at L.T. by the time my mother enrolled as a freshman. Mom would often reminisce about studying in the library and bugging Grammy for lunch money!
When I entered L.T. in my own turn, I signed up to be a Library Page and discovered my grandmother’s legacy lived on. I asked my supervisor if there were any librarians that might remember my grandmother. I’ll never forget the joyous reaction I provoked. Every single librarian there had worked with or heard about Grammy. She was a library legend. They told me stories about her work, showed me the sizable collection of books marked “In Memory of Kim Leonard,” and even pointed out where her desk had been. Suddenly, I had a piece of Grammy’s memory that was exclusively mine. Not a single one of my cousins is a librarian. And (as far as I know) none of them ever attended L.T. Nor did they work in the same library our grandmother had.
Fast forward a bunch of years.
Somehow a colleague and I started reminiscing about our childhoods. Not only did he grow up a couple blocks away from where I did, but his parents had attended L.T.! He mentioned the coincidence to his father, adding that my grandmother had been the school librarian. His dad dug out an old yearbook and e-mailed a copy of Grammy’s picture (see above) to my colleague, who shared it with me. I ran back to hug my colleague and was so thankful as to (probably) be almost incoherent.
When I got my own degree, my uncle--Mom’s brother--said he had the perfect gift. He gave me a copy of Shakespeare’s plays and a biography of Melville Dewey. Both items had been Grammy’s and had her handwritten notes in the margins. I was dumbstruck that he’d kept them all these years, and so touched that he trusted me with them. They have pride of place on my bookshelves and always will.
Every time I look at them, or my degree, I feel a swell of pride. Of sisterhood with this woman I scarcely remember. They’re reminders of just whose granddaughter I am, and the very special legacy we share.
Grammy attended Rosary College--now Dominican University--when my mother was in junior high. She didn’t drive, which meant my grandfather would drive her up to River Forest and back (round trip was about an hour) so she could attend classes. She was firmly ensconced at L.T. by the time my mother enrolled as a freshman. Mom would often reminisce about studying in the library and bugging Grammy for lunch money!
When I entered L.T. in my own turn, I signed up to be a Library Page and discovered my grandmother’s legacy lived on. I asked my supervisor if there were any librarians that might remember my grandmother. I’ll never forget the joyous reaction I provoked. Every single librarian there had worked with or heard about Grammy. She was a library legend. They told me stories about her work, showed me the sizable collection of books marked “In Memory of Kim Leonard,” and even pointed out where her desk had been. Suddenly, I had a piece of Grammy’s memory that was exclusively mine. Not a single one of my cousins is a librarian. And (as far as I know) none of them ever attended L.T. Nor did they work in the same library our grandmother had.
Fast forward a bunch of years.
Somehow a colleague and I started reminiscing about our childhoods. Not only did he grow up a couple blocks away from where I did, but his parents had attended L.T.! He mentioned the coincidence to his father, adding that my grandmother had been the school librarian. His dad dug out an old yearbook and e-mailed a copy of Grammy’s picture (see above) to my colleague, who shared it with me. I ran back to hug my colleague and was so thankful as to (probably) be almost incoherent.
When I got my own degree, my uncle--Mom’s brother--said he had the perfect gift. He gave me a copy of Shakespeare’s plays and a biography of Melville Dewey. Both items had been Grammy’s and had her handwritten notes in the margins. I was dumbstruck that he’d kept them all these years, and so touched that he trusted me with them. They have pride of place on my bookshelves and always will.
Every time I look at them, or my degree, I feel a swell of pride. Of sisterhood with this woman I scarcely remember. They’re reminders of just whose granddaughter I am, and the very special legacy we share.
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