Chapter 25: The Polish Matriarch
Read the last chapter of my book here
When I’d first started writing this chapter about my Polish grandmother, I was a little disappointed in myself. Sure, I had some fun anecdotes and some surface details, but I was missing so much of her important life history. I knew that her story was important to tell, but how much did I really know her? I wish I’d listened more. I wish I’d asked her more questions about her life. I wish I’d known more about what was swirling around in that brain of hers before it succumbed to dementia. I wanted to do her story justice, but I felt like I was missing too many pieces.
But then, something miraculous happened: I came into possession of her old diaries and writings that I never knew existed. (If there was one thing I inherited from my grandmother, it was the importance of writing.) It turned out that Grandma kept a simple diary for years, mostly to record the day’s activities when she was a young mother of two and then three boys. Many of the entries were only a few sentences, and it wasn’t hard to figure out that Grandma spent A LOT of time doing laundry, cleaning, gardening, baking, and cooking for her family. And, by the way, she did all of that while starting an electrical business with her husband. But aside from that small diary, Grandma actually had taken the time to record the story of her family, starting when her parents came to the United States from Poland. Once she had documented all of those details, she turned the pages into journal entries. From what I could tell, Grandma journaled until she couldn’t anymore.
But before I get into the details of her writings, I want to share what I do know and remember about my grandmother. Alice T. Drees had been known as Alice Sr., since her daughter-in-law was named Alice, as well. When she hadn’t been called Mrs. Drees, or Alice, or Alice Sr., she’d been known as “Mother.” On anyone else it would have sounded old-fashioned and formal, but it had just seemed to fit her. Her three sons and her three daughters-in-law hadn’t ever called her Mom; it always had been Mother.
I’d known Grandma to be a hardworking and shrewd businesswoman; she believed in small-town values and doing business with her neighbors. She and my grandfather had been very generous with local charities, especially the Catholic schools. They’d traveled and entertained a lot. Grandma never had been a very warm or affectionate person, but she had done plenty of subtle things that showed how much she cared about her family. For one thing, I know she’d cherished every holiday and every meal she spent with her family. If someone was missing at Christmas due to distance or illness or death, she noted it. She’d given 500 dollars to every grandchild on their 16th birthday. She’d tried teaching me how to knit. (It never did stick but at least she tried.)
