Monday 12 November 2007

Remembering

11 November

95 years ago today, a baby girl was born in Newcastle. The eldest of eleven children, only four of whom were to survive past infancy, she was born into what we might casually call slum housing today, although the term would have appalled her parents. Her father was always in work at the shipyards (vanished now), and he and her mother considered themselves to be respectable working class. There was a long tradition of working at the shipyards for the men in her family; further back they had been fisherman on the Northumbrian coast, and one of her maternal grandfathers had been a ferryman on the Tyne. There were some hard years ahead for the family, although they didn’t know it in 1912. The little girl celebrated the armistice of 1918, on her sixth birthday, and as a young woman witnessed the Jarrow Marchers, which included one of her uncles by marriage. Her parents believed in education, and she was a clever girl, but she couldn’t stay in school long, with so many other little ones at home to take care of, and less and less money coming in as the 20’s went on. She worked hard, with the spirit and enterprise and determination that she became well known for. She worked at home, of course, looking after infant siblings, so many of whom they had to bury, with few funds available for funerals. She also worked in a milliners and a dressmakers, and learnt good skills; she was a striking figure, apparently, in her neighbourhood, with her long back hair and piecing blue eyes, and a penchant for wearing red. Music was her passion, she had a lovely voice and could play anything by ear. Musical evenings were the norm in her family and she grew up knowing, and singing, all the old border laments. She married a man twenty years older than her, who also worked at the shipyards, a man born in the late Victorian age, who could remember the old Queen dying, and who had fought in the First World War. She had twins, a boy and a girl, followed by two more sons, and carried on working. Mostly domestic work, of course, and hard work it must have been too, with twins, little money and few appliances that we consider essential today. She would never have left her children all day, except occasionally with a neighbour or family member, but needed to ensure that more money came in, so she cleaned pubs in the evening, and began to sing in them too. She and her brother were well known for their voices and apparently the pubs would be packed when they sang.

In due course her daughter passed her 11 plus and she was allowed to go to the grammar school. Permission was tacitly needed; her daughter remembers the stares and comments and – sometimes - jeers she got from many in the community, for she was ‘set apart’ by that; her twin brother, who’d also passed, refused point blank to go back after the first week and went, with all the neighbourhood boys, to the secondary modern. Her daughter remembers with gratitude her mother’s energy and determination, and the way that she would shine in any social situation, however uncomfortable she felt. The headmaster, no doubt appreciating the shining black hair and the inevitable red dress, would always talk to her mother for the longest time. Her husband died early, and she remarried twice, but both subsequent husbands died young as well. Life never got her down, though; she continued to work, and even in her sixties she embraced new opportunities. She learnt to drive at 60; travelled to Australia for the first time at 64, and learnt to swim, in the warm Australian ocean, at 66. At 95 she still reads a couple of newspapers each day and completes the crosswords. She’ll discuss anything, from books to current affairs to Coronation Street, and has amazing recall. She is one of the brightest people I have ever met, with a restless, striving energy which I, too dreamy by far, didn’t inherit, although I see it strongly in my daughter, her namesake. She owns her own little bungalow, bought in her seventies, and is fiercely proud of her acquisition and her independence. Owning her own property was an impossible dream when she was young, and she said she was talking in her head to her parents and dead siblings non-stop on the day she moved in. She felt their astonishment too, she says.

But she is increasingly frail, and often lonely, and reliant on help from carers. Her siblings and eldest son are dead. Her surviving sons live in Australia. Her daughter lives 300 miles away and is in her seventies, with poor health. She has grandchildren scattered across the north east and abroad, but none are in much of a position to offer her a home, although the more local ones do their bit, helping with shopping and cooking and visiting often. She could, conceivably, move in with me, another of her grandchildren. It would be hard on us all, but we could do it, and have offered, but she can’t bear the idea of leaving the area where she has lived all her life. But here’s the rub. If she moves into a home, or sheltered housing, the bungalow will have to go, to pay for her care. And the thought of this tears her apart. To be able to leave something, anything, to her grandchildren is her greatest desire. To be able to leave a house – “look, see what I was able to buy, look what I worked so hard for” – is a given for many people, but has never lost the sheen of a miracle for her. She still can’t believe, sometimes, that she owns it. And we want her to keep it too, if possible. Not because we’re mercenary – even if we were, there are twelve of us grandchildren, a score of great-grandchildren, and the house wouldn’t raise six figures – but because it means so much to her. She remembers her own parents dying, and the indignity of having to borrow money for the funerals. There were few possessions worth keeping, and even those that were kept for sentimental reasons haven’t lasted. That horror has never left her. It doesn’t matter to us – our memories of her are burnt into our DNA – but it matters to her, to leave evidence of a long and hard-working life. Her oldest friend married a man from just across the border, and they went to live in Scotland. Her friend is widowed and also 95, but nursing care is freely available to her, and she doesn’t have to sell her house. Not many miles away, my grandmother sits and worries. An accident of birth and geography ensured she had a tough life, with few opportunities to pursue her talents. It seems that an accident of birth and geography is ensuring she has some tough decisions to make at the end of her life, too. Happy birthday anyway, Grandma. We love you.

28 comments:

Un Peu Loufoque said...

What sort of a Government allows the elderly to end their days by taking away their hard earned self respect and punishing them for working hard and saving? What sort of nation allows their elderly to be treated that way by their elected Government?

Time for a revolution I think chaps.

Say Happy birthday from me she sounds a great character and try adn record her telling memories of her past becasue oral history is one of a countries greatest assets and even the tax man cant steal that one!

Casdok said...

Happy birthday!
A lovely post.

Rob Clack said...

Happy birthday to her!

Notwithstanding the inheritance, she's miles better off in her own home. People are happier and survive better in comfortable, familiar surroundings, and it's much, much cheaper to care for them at home, even if you have to buy in numerous daily visits.

countrymousie said...

Lovely post as usual.
This will be the worry for all of us I guess in the end if we own anything at all - we will all have to have a high old time and spend the lot.

I had to have my mum in a nursing home towards the end of her life and dad had to sell a little bungalow they owned on the farm - she died before we got the money.
Most of the other ladies in the home had come from rental properties or had no money and were paid for by the county council. Dad worked all his life, fought in the war etc etc and has never once asked for a penny from anyone. It was hard to understand.

Milla said...

That was lovely, and the ending brought tears to my eyes. Long may she cling to her own home, and and all that it means to her - my granny lived at home til the end, my other grandparents managed 3 and 5 years in a residential home where they dwindled, but never complained. I understand that there has to be "a system" but it can be cruel indeed, taking little account of dignity in pursuit of book balancing.

Elizabethd said...

How very poignant, thank you for writing about something that, for myself, I'm not keen on facing.

Sam Fox said...

Gosh, Lump In Throat, swallowing now. Happy, happy birthday to your wonderful Grandma, do hope she can stay in her beloved home which is so obviously her pride and joy, and why wouldn't it be? She sounds like a very determined and terrific woman, all power to her. Great blog.

Exmoorjane said...

What a powerful piece of writing....sweeping through the years. It makes you realise just how far we have come in so few generations.. What achievements she made..and yes, how very grim that we make our elderly people pay in this way.
Happy Belated birthday to an incredible woman.....
And happy birthday to your James too......jxxxx

toady said...

Happy Birthday to Gran. A wonderful inspirational lady.

muddyboots said...

happy birthday grandma! l wonder how we will all compare when we reach that great age!

Faith said...

Oh that was so lovely. I also had tears in my eyes. Women (and men too of course) had it so tough in the old days. Your grandma is about three years older than my mother, but sounds much stronger in health. I do so hope that something can be worked out and she doesnt have to lose her home. The care of the elderly is an increasing problem.

God bless your grandma, Suffolkmum, and all our country's old people.

Elizabeth Musgrave said...

Powerful blog SM. What a long way we have come. My grandmother had a similarly tough life in the mill towns of the north west but was one of the feistiest and funniest people I have ever met. Sounds like you should all fight tooth and nail to keep her in her own house if you can but so difficult when you are so far away. A very happy birthday to her.

Fennie said...

Had posted a comment when my broadband cutout and so I have to try and remember what I said! Which was Happy Birthday to your Gran, who sounds a formidable character with quite a few genes that you seem to have inherited.
But it's always difficult isn't it - this late phase of life? To stay in one's house and be lonely, or to move to company, security and attention? The important thing I guess is to have something which, even at 95, makes you have to get out of bed - someone, or a pet, to care for or some responsibility or voluntary work.
Your friend and mine - Elinor of Acquitaine - was trying to foment revolution in her eighties, which 800 years ago, must be the equivalent of one's nineties today.
Not that I suggest your Gran should be into revolutions - but at least they gave Elinor something to take her mind off her needlework and arthritis. Lovely blog.

Elsie Button said...

incredible story - what a lady! and happy birthday to her too! people were so much tougher then. she mustn't lose her house.

Pig in the Kitchen said...

What a beautiful post. Your description of her is so vivid. A lovely tribute.
Pigx

david mcmahon said...

Came here from Crystal Jigsaw. I really enjoyed this post because it honours a person while taking us back into a time frame we know so little about.

Bravo ....

Suffolkmum said...

Hi David. Thanks for reading and commenting. The sense of a vanished age is what I find so affecting - that my Grandad, who I never knew, was alive when Queen Victoria reigned.

Maddy said...

Thought provoking and timely [for me]
Best wishes

CAMILLA said...

A truly lovely powerful blog SM.

Grandma is one special lady, I have full admiration for her. How wonderful it would be to have a book of memoirs, and to show people how courageous Grandma is, and to pass on to her future generations.

Working in the Nursing Sector, I can identify how awful it is for our elderly folk, who have worked hard all their lives, then to find that their home can be snatched away, so as to provide the funds for their nursing care. The Government needs to change the Bill, and the sooner the better.

Happy Belated Birthday to a very special Grandma.

Camilla.xx

@themill said...

Lovely SM. And so unfair that we live in a society that causes so much anguish at a time of life when our loved ones should be allowed to age with dignity and without distress.

Inthemud said...

What a lovely post. So beautifully written.

Sorry i am late in reading it.

Re my blog, Pleased to get your comment having experienced similar yourself. Just so frustrating.
I've written my appeal and it will be in the post tomorrow

Posie said...

You write so beautifully I bet your Gran is really proud of you. It is so awful the way the 'system' works, it seems horribly wrong and unfair. I do hope things go well for your Gran she sounds a fantastic lady.

LITTLE BROWN DOG said...

Oh, Suffolkmum, that was so moving. Your Grandmother sounds a very special person, and has lived through and survived so much. Struggle, hardship and even death were so much more commonplace in many people's lives than they ever are today, thankfully. It sounds as though your Grandma has lived her life with such dignity, it would be terrible to take that away from her at the end.

Cait O'Connor said...

I don't know how I misssed reading this before SM.
It is a joy to read about such a hardworking, long-suffering and amazing woman with such a strong character, you must be very, very proud of her. I can just see her now with her dark hair, blue eyes and red dress, singing away.
I hope she gets to read your blog about her. And I hope she can stay in her home and be cared for until the end of her life on Earth.

annakarenin said...

system sucks as per...

A lovely memento of her life and may she have many more happy birthdays, as Rob says maybe she is better off in her own home with lots of care I think that side of things is starting to improve if nothing else.

Frog in the Field said...

Suffolk Mum, this is a pleasure to read, as always. She must be very proud of you and the family she's produced.

Bluestocking Mum said...

YOur blog brough a lump to my throat SM. Lovely, thought provoking and well written as always. And the beginning reminded me of the setting for a Catherine Cookson story..

You must get that book written one day, my dear...

warmest wishes
xx

Tattieweasle said...

Such an amazingly strong lady - how we can let them down so beggars beleif! I DO so hope she can remain in her own home.
Both my Granny Sue and Nanna were able to do so - it was very tough on my parents in fact all of us but very definatley worth it...both died peacfully and with dignity surrounded by their loved ones.