A Lady of Many Hats

So, let's talk about my grandmother, Pistol Whip Peggy.

Okay. I was afraid of this woman for a portion of my childhood. She would walk into the house and I'd hide behind my sister's legs. I was painfully and awkwardly shy. I remember one day, she walked into the house and demanded that I go with her to Chuck E. Cheese. I had no choice. My sister wasn't home. I cried. I was wearing white Keds that day.

I eventually warmed up to my grandmother, the strange old lady who visited from Florida every year. And eventually, I was making memories of going down to visit her. From the age of 9 to the age of 29, I have memories of walking into her walk-in-closet, in awe of all the purses and of course, the hats.

I always marveled at what I considered the posh lifestyle of my grandmother. She always had nice digs, nice clothes, and was very classy. Always. Being a fat tomboy as a kid, I never felt comfortable around her. I knew she loved me, but there was a chasm between us. I was quiet, thoughtful, didn't have many friends, and spent more time riding my bike alone in the woods than spending time with other kids. Grandma was always interested in meeting new people, learning about them, and marveling over what she can learn from them. She frequented jazz clubs, piano bars, and was a familiar face in many establishments on Anastasia Island. She knew many people and she too was an adventurous woman. Grandma was social, the life of the party, gorgeous, independent, and always ready for a good time.

But despite the chasm, we accepted one another. She grew very interested in my childhood introversion and loved listening to me talk. We went to Barnes & Noble together and she bought me a book about Einstein's Theory of Relativity and a book about learning Latin. Also, she got me the most memorable gifts for Christmas. I remember opening a giant box that was shipped up from Florida and inside was the first ever journal I ever wrote in. Now I write in journals every day. She also bought me glow-in-the-dark sticker stars for my bedroom ceiling and they're still on the ceiling of my childhood bedroom. She bought me a VHS I cherished for years. She understood my affinity for nature. (The below VHS was state-of-the-art computer graphics back in the 90s).

Grandma was brave in a way I wasn't. Not that introversion is a form of weakness. It certainly isn't. But extroversion was something I envied and my grandma embodied it. Fast-forward many, many years and now I'm a beer-drinking, joke-telling, potty-mouthed introvert that I think would make grandma proud. I'm barely classy and have no affinity for jewelry, but I think we'd have a good time together.

My grandma passed away in July. Because she lived in Florida and all her family was in Pennsylvania, a traditional funeral did not occur and instead, we followed her wishes and celebrated her life with a party where everyone was encouraged to wear her dozens of hats. When asked if I wanted anything of hers, I asked for a few hats but was given twenty-one.

I asked for some of her hats because I have grown up to be a woman who craves adventure, desires to learn, and meets new people. Now, when I hike up a mountain, go kayaking, travel, etc., I can honor my grandma by wearing one of her hats.

I'm going to Vermont tomorrow, grandma! Hats off to you, Peg.

#personal