In my girlhood heroine race, it’s a close contest between Wonder Woman (those boots! those cuffs!), the Bionic Woman (so speedy! such good hearing!), and my grandmother, Nannie, who couldn’t fly or bend steel, or jump very high. As far as I know she didn’t fight crime, avenge baddies or run much at all either, especially not at lightspeed. And at 5ft she was no Amazon. But she’s top of the list.
Of course it’s in the job description for grandmothers to be kind, caring and especially nice to young children, but it’s not compulsory, and mostly no one’s checking. There are some though, like Nannie, who go over and above. She looked after us, fed us, took us to the beach, read us books, wrote us letters, and was infinitely patient, warm and fun to be around. As I got older, her kindness was apparent in different forms. I saw how non-judgmental and open-minded she was, in ways that often surprised me. While she was of an era which saw her ‘dressing for dinner’ at home into a blouse and floor-length skirt, I realised she wasn’t old-fashioned, and her care and support of people wasn’t limited to family and friends. I learned that when she was younger, she would visit the women’s prison, taking books and reciting poetry. Her own mother was very involved in the 1930s and 40s trying to improve life for incarcerated young women in New Zealand and supporting them on their release.
Nannie actually did have some magic powers – she could detect a grandchild’s fibs by holding our little finger, could recite from every book, poem and play in the whole wide world, and no matter what time we got up in the morning when we were staying, had already conjured a pile of crêpes. While I’d have to concede that Wonder Woman had more superpowers, and will always hold a special place (did I mention her real name, Diana Prince, and mine are soooo similar?), Nannie was one of the most important people in my girlhood – and adulthood, and one who continues to inspire me 20 years after her death.
-Diana C.