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Understanding the ripple effect

Semi-weekly columnist examines her past for socially-relevant insights

With today’s mobile society it’s unusual to see family units where grandparents live in the same vicinity as their children and grandchildren. For many of us, me included, our children and grandchildren live where the work is, so visiting them isn’t as simple as hopping in the car and driving down the road.

I was lucky for a little while in my young life. That was when I was about five and lived in Kitimat, BC. My Nanny and Papa lived just down the road from us as did my great-grandparents, Oma and Opa.

Although I was only five-years-old at the time, I still have some fond memories of that short-lived golden time when I could visit my grandparents on a regular basis.

Nanny wasn’t a particularly warm person, but I do believe she loved all of us five children with all of her heart. Papa, a typical man of his time, quietly tolerated the predictable hubbub that five children, all under the age of eight, created. He mostly hid behind his newspaper and at times could be found tucked away in his “study” far from the noise, turmoil and insanity.

Nanny was a long-suffering woman who never failed to regale us with tales of her “terrible” childhood and excruciatingly painful labour which resulted in the birth of my father.

Despite all that, we children loved to go to their house each and every Sunday morning for Nanny’s famous pancake breakfast. Every Sunday before arriving at our grandparents’ we were sternly warned to watch our tongue and our manners and to check any attitude at the door. Breakfast was stuffy, with little, if any, conversation. Back then, we were told that children were to be seen and not heard, especially at the table.

After breakfast all nine of us would head off to church, properly attired, including hats and gloves and the required pious look upon our faces. Angelic, we were not.

Upon returning to our grandparents’ home, the best part of the day was changing into our play clothes and heading out to their back yard. There, in the yard, was a two-seater swing. My best memories include that swing and the feeling of safety, closeness and family as I sat next to my adored older sister, Laura, as we kicked our legs higher and higher in a bid to reach the sky. The feeling of love, joy and sisterhood was almost overwhelming.

It’s amazing to me that sometimes I can’t remember where I put my glasses, but to this day I remember the sound of the honey bee as it droned on by, the sweet smell of honeysuckle, fragrant to my nose even 55 years later, and the watery warmth of that spring’s sun.

For a little girl of five, life didn’t get much better. Even then I must have realized how very special such moments as those are or I wouldn’t remember it even now, decades later.

It makes me realize that simple and, sometimes, inconsequential things, leave an indelible imprint upon the soul. It serves to remind me that everyone leaves a footprint upon this earth and that, yes, every rock thrown into a pool causes a ripple.

That ripple effect is valid in all we do in life as we do not live in isolation. Sometimes even the smallest ripple can have everlasting consequences.

As I get older I know I have a responsibility to not plow my way through the waters of life, but rather test the waters first. It’s a realization I wish I’d learned earlier.