Shaped by Grand..... parents

Yet, those uncles and aunts I remember meeting, appeared, on the whole, to be fairly happy people. One was even a magician, and to kids, that was a fantastic experience (and no, that wasn’t why I got into performing myself). A visit to his house always gave us a thrill as he would demonstrate some act, or slight of hand he had been working on. Unfortunately, as we had to move a lot, and never got to travel around (no car and no finances – eight kids remember), we soon were distant from any of our other family members. My father’s parents did however visit us once, while we lived in Dunedin. An incident occurred which I clearly recall, resulting in all of us being dismissed from the table, and my fathers parents, after some heated words from my mother (fortunately slightly muffled, as we had been sent to our rooms and told to close the doors), departed the next morning, to never return. It was the last time I saw my grandparents (my only grandparents). There did not seem to be a lot of connection with my father, and, I don’t recall him ever going to visit them by himself. They were, and had always been referred to by us as ‘Nana and ‘Numpy’ (why Numpy? I don’t even know), but, quickly became called ‘Nana’ and ‘Grumpy’. Disparaging I know, for people we knew so little about.

It is disappointing to hear (and wonderful as well) that many people had wonderful, warm, involved grandparents. Yet it is also amusing to hear adults comment how many find those same people, their parents, the very same people they grew up influenced by, so different in how they communicate with the grandchildren.

My father was obviously influenced by his parents, whether their feelings were suppressed over time, or from particular incidents I do not know. But it seems, while he felt emotionally closer to some of his brothers (He did visit them once or twice, by himself, or said that was where he was going?), he never appeared to encourage close contact with them. Perhaps this could be explained another way. It may be that he failed to communicate well with us, because he felt disassociated with the concept of 'the family'. Perhaps his lack of closeness could be for another reason? Did he feel isolated? Perhaps he experienced a sense of isolation with his work, family, even his leisure? I have myself, over time, through choice and for other health reasons, chosen a type of ‘isolation’.  I have chosen it to cope with my own work, social circumstances, and, in some ways, my family. I understand the reasons for it, and have explained it to my family. Yet my father never did. He did recognise the good relationship I have with my son, when, on one of his only visits to us in Australia, he commented to me, how close we were. I said, “ Yes, I have had to work at it.” I don’t know if he understood what I meant.

 (continued tomorrow)