Would You Like To Swing On A Star? (tribute to my Nan: Linda Smith)

Whenever I would visit with my Nan she would always sing these little tunes from a time and place I wasn't a part of.  They were ditties of her time well before mine.  My favourite one started with a question, "Would you like to swing on a star and carry moonbeams home in a jar?"  Her sweet voice would rattle off that simple, heavenly image and let it float around the room like a whisper- soothing, comforting.

As I grew older I'd find myself humming or singing just that phrase, while washing dishes, or folding clothes, and I'd think of her and smile.  When I had a tough day I'd think of my Nan and be reminded of the strong woman she was,  and I'd hear her gentle voice say, "Don't mind Duck (she called all twelve of her grandchildren and her five great grandchildren- Ducks)."  I'm not sure what 'Don't mind Duck' meant but it made me feel better.

On the morning of her passing, Saturday January 25 2013, feeling disillusioned, I sang the lovely words, "Would you like to swing on a star?"  And it was then that I realized this line was a lesson of hers.  I'm not sure if she intended it to be, but now I see it as one of the many things I learned from my Nan.  It's a ridiculous notion to think you could swing on a star and capture moonbeams to take home, but the imagery it creates is innocent and lovely.  I take it as a sign that we should find moments in our busy, mundane, lives and see some innocence, or take a simple break and picture something beautiful.

Unfortunately, I didn't grow up living in the same city as my Nan, so we didn't spend multitudes of time together.  Though when I went to Winnipeg to visit or she came here, we'd have fun together.  My Nan loved to have fun and laugh.  She had this hardy laugh that could fill a room and it was contagious.  She always had something witty to say.  We'd go shopping, eat fish and chips, watch movies, or play a game of cards.  Oh man, did she love a good card game. It might have been her competitive nature that made her love cards so much, but I think the real reason she valued card night was just spending time with people she loved.  I remember one summer at Matlock beach sitting with her in a screened in porch, learning how to play Rummy.  I think we played for hours while the sun baked outside.  This taught me the value of time with loved ones.

In continuing with  her lessons, I knew she was the matriarch of the Smith clan.  And like the song Ho Hey by the Lumineers, which states: 'Show me family and all the blood that I would bleed....I belong with you, you belong with me...", it's true.  Everything that made us who we are stems from Nan.  She created this wonderful, which maybe not be perfect, but we all know we can lean on one another and that we all belong.  We all bleed the same Smith blood.  She showed us what it means to be tough, but at the same time be empathetic, nurturing, warm, generous, and to just be yourself.  Also she lived by the motto, "please yourself."

Nan danced to the beat of her own drum.  Unlike most grandmothers, my nan wore bright, happy colours, and dyed her hair lovely different shades of browns and reds.  She spoke her mind, and stayed up late.  And as mentioned before, she liked having a good time.  She could make everyday events a little more whimsical.  I remember as a child she would make breakfast fun by cutting toast into strips and calling them "Toast fingers" to dip in your runny eggs.  I hated eggs growing up, but this seemed to do the trick.  She'd also make bed-time fun by giving us 'eats', which was a mishmash of little food, like cut up cheese, a handful of grapes, and a few rosebud chocolates.  I can still recall sitting on the back porch of a cabin, in my summer PJs, all fresh for bed, and my sister and I eating our eats from our little sectioned plates, as the sunset and the heat eased away.

Since we didn't live close by, Nan and I would write letters to one another, keeping up a strong correspondence.  She'd ask me about school and which picture-shows I'd seen recently.  She'd inquire about my friends and my hobbies.  I'm sure I asked her about bingo and the news of the family back East.  Those letters and a few pictures are the only physical pieces I have left of her.  And my memories.  So many...one that sticks out is the feeling of her strong, wrinkled hand, squeezing mine.  I can almost feel it.  She always squeezed my hand when I saw her, and she'd tell me how proud she was of me and how beautiful I had become.  The last time I held her hand was on her 90th birthday, three years ago.  Seems like a life time ago.

So in Nan fashion I sign off by saying God Bless xo xo
I love you Nan