"Remembering Grandma"

Remembering Grandma
October 9, 2009
Basking Ridge Country Club

For those of you who may not know me, I am Rev. Peter Butler, Jr., the eldest grandchild of Harriet Jean Schmidt Tymeson Fiacre. We have come together this morning to remember grandma – as I knew her – to remember what was good and beautiful and lovely – and funny – about her. In the midst of mourning her death, we gather to celebrate her life and all that we enjoyed about her. And to those who talked with grandma in the past few months, if she were able to vocalize, I’m sure she would tell us, “I’m just fine!”

Grandma and I began talking about this day several years ago when she asked me to preside at this “service.” I said that I would, and she told me that she wanted me to wear my clerical collar, but she wanted “NOTHING RELIGIOUS” to be said or done. I said I would comply with her wishes, but I also wondered what in the world I would do, dressed in my clerics, but not doing any of the liturgical things I normally do at a funeral or memorial. I thought about standing up here and having you just look at me in my clerics and not saying anything.

But this past week, it occurred to me why grandma wanted me to be dressed in my clerics, and it has to do with the fact that if my mother had listened to my grandmother, I might never have been born. You see, when grandma met my father, she was not entirely taken with him. I have been told again and again that after my father dropped my mother back home, my grandmother said, “That is the type of man who would mow the lawn in a t-shirt.” I am like my father, and maybe grandma wanted to make sure I would wear my clerics because she was worried I would wear jeans and a t-shirt today. Grandma did come to love my father, by the way, especially when my father turned forty-six and she remained forty-five.

Grandma was forty-five years old all the years I knew her, which means she was two when I was born – younger than her mother was when she gave birth to her. We come from an amazing line of women. And until recently, on each of my birthdays, grandma would call me and wish me a happy birthday and ask, “Did I ever tell you that your birth was the first time I had a bourbon on the rocks before 9 A.M.?”

Grandma also said that she wanted us to gather and talk about how wonderful she was – that’s what she said – that’s why we are here. And then, after we have talked about how wonderful she was, she said we should go to Canoe Brook and have lunch on her account – before they knew she had died – so they would be stuck with the bill. That didn’t quite work out, but I think what we have here is quite fitting.

Over the past few years, grandma and I would get together from time to time at Canoe Brook for lunch to catch up – I will miss those times – not just for the good food – not just because I enjoyed spending time with her – but because I came to expect that grandma would ask me three questions over the course of our conversation:

First, “Why are you so fat?”

Grandma looked good and thought everyone else ought to look good, and part of looking good was to be thin. I have never been thin, and I dare not hold me breath until I am thin. But I know that grandma’s question was not just a matter of my appearance, she was truly concerned about my health. She was particularly dismayed when I was diagnosed with sarcoidosis, and she expressed her not understanding why I should have this disease. I told her that I have come to understand that the real question is “Why am I so well? Why am I so blessed? Why am I am American with health insurance?” I could be much worse off, so I am thankful that I am only chronically ill, and I try to use my illness for the good of others. Grandma would be happy to hear that I am losing weight and I have been exercising five days a week for several months now. So, who knows, maybe, someday I will be thin.

The second question was, “Why are you still single?”

Grandma loved family. Grandma loved being married. Of course there were ups and downs; of course she didn’t understand or agree with everything about each of us, but she loved us wholeheartedly. She was concerned about my being alone – about being lonely – about not having someone there to help me, and I am grateful that she was concerned for me, though marriage has not happened for me and it may never. Right now I am happy and very busy with my family and my church. Even if my mother and three youngest siblings weren’t close by, I pastor a church of about twenty people who need constant supervision, and I have a cat who demands constant attention. But I am thankful that grandma was concerned for my happiness and security.

And the third question was – and let me ask my dear church members who are here not to be offended: my grandmother had met you and she thought you were a lovely group of people, and she told me that she could tell how much you all care for me. But her third question was, “Why are you so underpaid?”

Grandma was proud of my abilities and my education and my desire to continue my education. So much so that she even gave me a few loans – which I quickly paid back in full – so I could continue my education – even when she was not entirely thrilled with what I was pursuing.

When I went to Drew University, she couldn’t have been prouder – her first grandchild was off to college, and she was still forty-five. I went to Drew with Chemistry in mind and an interest in neurological chemistry. But when I shortly declared a major in Philosophy, she wanted to know, “What are you going to do with that?” I told her I thought teaching could be the answer, which pleased her, but I needed time to work and save money before I could go on to graduate school.

I did end up going to graduate school, but I went back with the intention of becoming a pastor, to which she told me, “You are wasting your abilities ” But, after changing my degree to a Master’s in Theology and getting adjunct jobs teaching at several universities, she thought I had finally found my way, and she began to encourage me to get my doctorate.

I did go back to graduate school and did graduate studies in English Literature, thinking of teaching, but I decided I was right in the first place and went on to get a Master’s of Divinity and to become an ordained minister of Word and Sacrament in the Reformed Church in America. She was very proud of my accomplishments and for my pastoring at Second Reformed Church in Irvington, though she said she didn’t need the “crutch” of religion. “I guess some people need it, but I don’t,” she said. And she continued to encourage me to get a doctorate.

Grandma was always a great supporter of my further education, and she wanted to see me rewarded – recognized – for my work and abilities. I told her that I love my church and my people and they do well by me given what we have. She always wanted more for me – better for me – and I hope I will become a better man and a better pastor as time goes by.

I am disappointed, though. Grandma did not keep her promise to me: she told me that she was going to live to be 100, and I had until then to get my doctorate. She wanted to see me get a doctorate, and she said she expected me to get it before she died. I am not opposed to getting a doctorate, and I may some day – I told her time and money prevents it for now – but I am disappointed that grandma will not be here in the flesh to see that day. I am humbled and thankful that grandma was proud of me and thought me worthwhile.

By the time the third question had been asked, I knew lunch was coming to a close.

I am thankful that I had time to visit and talk to her while she was in the hospital, and I hope she heard me.

Despite being fat, single, and underpaid, I am going to miss her; I love grandma, and I know she loved me.

At this time I would like to ask others who would like to say something positive or funny in remembrance of grandma to come forward to speak, and once everyone who wishes has spoken, I will close us...

Grandma said she didn’t want “ANYTHING RELIGIOUS” at this service, so let me simply close by inviting you to move into the other room to enjoy the luncheon that has been prepared for us, but don’t eat too much, because you’re already too fat!