So . . . . I first posted about my little Tea-themed project of 2021 back in early February — that post includes a tea-themed page from the January 3rd entry of my sketch journal. . . .
And something about those teacups and my new tubes of gouache paint got into my journal again, and a page showed up in this post a few weeks later, along with some maundering and wittering and navel-gazing about the value of play and the censoring of Mean Inner Critics
I gave into the play, stopped most of the navel-gazing, and added scissors and glue and more text to the mix for this post which included three journal pages with sketches about — yes, of course, More Teacups!
Meanwhile, I was beginning to be distracted by the teddy bears and mice I’d begun knitting for my grandchildren whom I wasn’t able to see enough . . . but I managed to send out a handmade, tea-themed card to a good friend — at approximately the same moment as she was sending a handmade, tea-themed card/mini-book to me!
Next thing I knew, though, the teddy bears were multiplying, and they found their way to those teacups. . . and I realized that my grandkids might be the perfect Art Critics for my “work.” These playful sketches are painted on blank 5×7″ mixed-media cards, so there was ample room inside to share some information about my parents. The concept of great-grandparents is a strange one for little guys to wrap their head around. You’ll already know this if you’ve ever tried to talk to a child of, say 4 or 5, about having known their mom or dad at the same age — they will be nodding solemnly in what seems a comprehending manner, “yes, yes, of course, that makes sense, Dad was four once, and you took him to the park” . . . and then they’ll throw the curve ball that reveals their magical thinking: “Could you bring him over so he can play with me?” or “What grade is that kid in now?” And you look at their father, the adult version, sitting across the room chuckling, and you keep a straight face and try to explain. . . .
So I thought I’d keep it as simple as possible, and I’d tell them each about their great-grandfather whom they’d never met, who went to sea at 15 to cook in the British Merchant Marines, and went ’round the world that way a few times over ten years until he met my mom and fell in love and stayed in Canada. But he was a northern Englishmen who like his tea, and I wrote to my grandkids about the way he told me to make it. I told them that he brought a cup of tea, on a saucer, to my mother in bed every single morning they were together until he was too weak in his last months.
I have some special tea anecdotes to share with them in the next ’round of cards — we’ve just had a three-week “circuit-breaker” imposition of additional restrictions here in BC, so it looks as if it will be a while yet before we can resume normal visiting (we haven’t seen the island family for seven months; over 15 months since I’ve seen the Italy crew — two years for Paul).
Responses so far to these mailings? One granddaughter, in a video her Mom took of them opening the mail, reading the card together, looked up at the camera and said “Wow, Nana, you’ve really outdone yourself.” She’s eight; it was pretty funny, that sincere praise, and it was wholly enthusiastic, so gratifying. Worth every minute of making that card to send across town.
Another granddaughter, a Six, was so pleased with mail she recently opened from me that she put together a parcel for me — it contained recent drawings, a beautiful crepe-paper and pipe-cleaner “dancing lady” she’d made at school, and a hand-strung bead bracelet — and apparently marched into her parents’ room first thing in the morning to ask, “What are we going to do about sending this parcel to Nana?” One by one, I’m bringing converts to the Snail Mail cause (and promoting literacy, one letter at a time 😉
But honestly, I remember the work it often took to get my own kids, back in the day, to sit at the table and finish a letter — which I then had to address and get a stamp on and remember to post. And parents these days are juggling all the extra challenges of a pandemic and anything that smacks of additional schoolwork is a tough sell to kids for whom school has been undeniably complicated by masks and Zoom classes and bubbles, etc. Even more than when sending to adult correspondents, letters to children are best considered as pure gifts, with no reciprocity expected (accepted with delight, yes, but not expected — that’s just courting disappointment and risks nurturing truculence and resentment).
When my Dad made his move, almost 70 years ago, from England to Canada, four years passed before he saw his parents, siblings, nieces and nephews again — and to do that, he drove across Canada (with my brother, not yet walking, and me, just turned Two) — and my poor mother was seasick all the way across the Atlantic. Two years after that, my grandparents made a similar trip in the opposite direction, taking a train across Canada. Eventually, I’ll try to tell my grandchildren about their great-great-grandfather, based on my memory of that visit, of a walk he and I took together to the library. . . For now, I just marvel that my dad, who loved his parents and siblings fiercely, maintained his connection with them for so many years through those pale blue onion-skin airmail forms that Mr. Kadiddle-hopper (our postie must have been a Red Skelton fan, for so he told us to call him) dropped regularly through our letter slot.
These days, we have so many technological possibilities for staying connected across long distances. We FaceTime bedtime stories (I read a few chapters of Judy Blume’s Freckle Juice to a Six that way, just last night); or gather everyone together, chaotically, on Zoom or WhatsApp; and send video clips or voice messages or birthday party photos or post text messages on the WhatsApp family page and watch a conversation unfurl over the day.
I love all that! I’m so very grateful to live in this age where I can hear and see my granddaughter asking me, from Italy, “Can I tell you something, Nana?” — even if (especially if!) she asks that six times during our chat.
But I know enough about how memory works that I’d love my bunch to have some tangible artifact of our connection as well. And in my family, teatime has signified connection and communication and caring for each other for a long time.
I have to finish writing in the orange card you see above — today’s To-Do list includes getting that posted. I’m thinking I’ll tell her about a funny story of her great-grandpa bringing her great-grandma tea in the middle of the night because he read his watch upside down. . .
And then I need to make one more card to finish the set of four (one for each family, so far, so siblings share in this ’round). . . And perhaps I’ll start all over again with new stories and a different palette.
What about you? Who do you most want or need to stay in touch with during these Non-Travel times? And how do you most enjoy doing that? I’m also curious to know how mail — letters or parcels — might have figured in your memories of parents, grandparents, even great-grandparents. And what letters your children or grandchildren — or yourself, as a child — wrote, and to whom, and are some of those letters treasured now?
Comments open — I’d love to hear from you,
xo,
f
Today, I got two parcels into the post office at 8am, sending chocolate to my children – one in Edinburgh, one in London. Most days we ring or message and sometimes we Facetime with them. Much more than we did before this damned virus gummed up the works. I Zoom with friends, Facetime with others, email brothers and am delighted that modern technology can keep us all in touch so easily. It will do until we are all together again.
Re tea. My father (another Yorkshireman) also took my mum a cup of tea in bed every single morning until he, too, was too frail to do so. Until she had her first cup (with cigarette for many years), mum wasn't worth approaching. I hadn't thought about that for a long time. Memory is a strange place.
Oh my goodness, I love the idea of the tea making cards and the teddies, and the stories of their great-grandfather! I'm seeing an illustrated children's book of his adventures across the sea, but he's always back in time to bring tea to great-grandma first thing in the morning. xoxoxo
I think you should collaborate with Sue – what a fabulous, whimsical book that could be!
I have a very vivid memory of my grandparents and tea. They spent a week with us in Ottawa for their 60th wedding anniversary and whenever I asked them if they wanted a cup of tea, they would both glance at their watches before replying. Tea was only to be drunk at a certain time between three and four.
Frances in Sidney
My tea memories are not so pleasant . I’ve always really disliked the taste of tea & still do . As a child I was never forced to drink it apart from when we visited my Aunt & Uncle . I was told it wasn’t polite to refuse their tea . So I disliked visiting them & tried not to gag as I drank the tea . Things improved when I visited with Hubbie . He would quickly drain my cup in addition to his own when they left the room – though he hates it as much as I do . How could I resist marrying him ? My grandfather went to sea too , as a cabin boy of 13 years & Canada was the usual destination for his ship .
Wendy in York
There is so much charm in this post. I love the tea theme and the bears and mice that hopped on for the ride. We've managed to see our grands and kids via walks outdoors, and more recently, at outdoor gatherings. I'm so thankful our Vancouver family moved to town last fall.
I miss seeing my parents. They live on the mainland and it's been 7 months since I've seen them. Lots of phone calls help, and they Skype and chat with the grands and great-grands. But I keep thinking time is passing and they are getting older; my father will be 87 soon.
Annie: I like imagining your two opening their care packages! And I'm pleased to hear of another uxorious Yorkshireman 😉
Sue B: What fun! My dad would have loved it, this book featuring His Truly leaping from the boat with a cup of tea for his beloved!
Frances: Wouldn't that be fun?! And speaking of fun, doesn't sound as if your grandparents were, really. . . or is that unfair?
Wendy: I remember reading this somewhere, that you disliked tea . . . my English cousins took theirs with so much sugar; perhaps that's why!
My dad was 15 when he first went to sea, working in the kitchen (galley?) . . . in '42, not a good time for a young boy to be crossing mine-studded waters. . . His poor mother. Imagine your grandfather, even younger!
Lorrie: You're lucky having your children all nearby now, but I'm sure it's tough not seeing your parents. I hope they're staying healthy and active enough.
Your post made me cry in the best possible way. My much loved dad was a tea drinker too. Probably learned to drink it while serving in the British army during WW2. He preferred it in his “special” chipped enameled mug or an equally ugly, brown, ceramic mug and he drank it strong, with tea leaves floating in the bottom. This wouldn’t be so odd if he wasn’t Greek-Cypriot, who are better known for loving Greek coffee. Thank you for giving me a wonderful way to help any future grandchildren learn a bit about a great-grandfather they’ll never know. I’m so sad they’ll never know him – he loved and was good with kids and they loved him too. Your cards are delightful and your story-telling inspired. I’m sure your grandkids will treasure your letters and value the things you’re teaching them in such a completely natural and enjoyable way (their connection to family, the gifts of writing, sharing and reciprocity). This is one of my very favourite posts, thank you xx
Sue and Frances in S.-my exact thoughts,too! Frances,I love Bears and Tea Cups and stories-it has to be an illustrated children book,please!
What a wonderful and imaginative way to communicate with your grandchildren
My father used to bring a cup of coffee (what else:)?!)to my mother first time in the morning,too,as long as he could…..
Dottoressa
Maria: thank you for this sweet and thoughtful comment! Your dad sounds like mine (who was also great with kids)—I hope we manage to pass on a sense of their heritage to our grandkids, one card and anecdote at a time.
Dottoressa: I would have been very surprised if your father had brought tea😉.
It's a good bit bigger than your works, but I've just sent off to a niece a family heirloom of sorts – a large pencil drawing of my great-grandfather by by a then-young artist who eventually went on to some regional acclaim in Minnesota as a printmaker. When my grandmother's cedar chest made it out to me some time after her passing, I found it at the very bottom, and had it framed for my mother, with the proviso that I would get it back after she was gone. At the time I thought it just a beautiful piece that captured my g-grandfather's lanky frame really well – it wasn't until after I got it back in 2014 that I bothered to look up the artist. G-grandfather was a ship's engineer, niece is a mechanical engineer, so I thought it a fitting next home, and I can tell her what I know of g-grandfather, passing on a little bit of family history.