One of the mentors throughout my childhood and youth was my maternal grandmother, Nettie May Pitts Kendrick. Alyssa's middle name is from her and Nettie died in 1979, soon after Alyssa turned one.
Born in 1901, Nettie lost her mother to complications of childbirth when she was three years old. Her father, who could not care for her nor her brothers, allowed other family members and friends to raise them. Nettie lived with at least three families until she married at age 18. When mom returned with me from California when I was only six weeks old, Grandma cared for me while Mom worked. Maybe that is why we were always so close. She lived with us for a short time when I was eight, but she and dad were both very strong willed, and it didn't work out. An studio apartment on South Temple in Salt Lake City became her home during my teenage years, and I loved to visit her there where we talked while enjoying a bowl of ice cream (her freezer was just large enough to hold a square half-gallon) or stuffed the fabric animals and dolls she sewed for the Primary Children's Hospital patients with the pieces of foam which seemed to want to cling to everything except the inside of the doll! We also shared many lunches at Bratton's, her favorite restaurant, where we would dine on the vegetables and black and sourdough breads and relish the thick clam chowder for which Brattons was famous. Like many who weathered the Depression, she kept a string ball to which every length of string that came into her possession was added. Her favorite sayings included "A stitch in time saves nine," "Waste not, want not," and "Do something well or don't do it at all." After a stroke, her last few years were spent in a Catholic care center. One of the times we visited, she remarked "There is a young girl who loves to dance trapped in this old body." Only now do I understand her feelings.
I remembered that she was buried on the west side of the valley, and a few days ago was able to find the location. So yesterday David and I visited Redwood Memorial Park where she is interred next to her daughter and son-in-law, Rose and Marvin Stam. As I gently (or not so gently) pulled back the grass which was beginning to overgrow the marker, sweet memories flooded back, making me smile. I still miss her, but know that she can now dance and was there to welcome my own sweet mother when she too went home just one year ago.
