the blue collar thing

My mother's parents were blue collar folks. My grandfather, whose education had ended in middle school, was a positive, energetic guy who went to work as a splicer's assistant for New Jersey Telephone when still in his early teens. He retired in his 60s as one of the primary foremen for the entire outfit, in charge of legions of linemen. He and his two brothers had been abandoned by their wealthy mother, a woman whom he remembered as an accomplished equestrienne. She just simply left them, with no explanation, when they were all under the age of ten; what the story was on his father, I'm not quite certain. Amazingly, they were taken in and raised serially by the people in their town; a month in the Smith home, then on to the Browns' place.

My grandmother, daughter of a gentleman who ran a fire salvage business (his slightly singed, slightly musty goods helped Billy Filene start his business in Boston in the 1920s), came from an originally aristocratic German lineage. But by the time her family landed in the States, they were more or less middle-class. She had a nice piano at home and wore fur coats to school --- both slightly damaged! In her late teens and early 20s, she worked as a pianist in silent movie houses in NYC; although she never learned how to read music, she was an accomplished pianist with stunning technique, including the notoriously difficult "stride" style which was so popular in her youth. She had great musical ears and could replicate any pop tune she'd heard a few times, complete with a fully-realized arrangement (not just a simple melody and accompaniment). As an adult, she was extremely active in their Methodist church and worked as its secretary. The two of them, after their marriage in 1929 (days before the market crashed), were active, helpful people in their community who gave generously of their time and money whenever they could.

The Depression was in full swing when my mom was born. Other people lost their homes entirely, but because telephones were in high demand and people would cut back in other areas to afford one, my grandfather was rarely entirely out of work (although often he worked reduced hours); my grandparents did lose their house in the Depression, but were able to afford an apartment without too much difficulty. She was their only child and was over-indulged, but it seemed she got to have a lot of freedom in terms of her activities, running around town with her friends, being a good student, singing with the glee club, working out with the cheerleading squad. They were careful financially, and gave her a good foundation from which to grow. The town where they lived was pleasant enough, a New Jersey suburb within a dozen or so miles from New York City.

They weren't particularly supportive of the idea of her going to college; they wanted her to attend secretarial school instead (not that unusual a stance for folks of their era and class). My mom had other ideas; while she did go to secretarial school and worked to save money, she then went off to Europe in her early 20s and worked there for six years. When she returned from Europe, she completed the college degree she'd begun while working for the Air Force in Germany.

This kind of ambition, particularly from a woman, was unusual and admirable. However, she seemed to turn on her parents over this difference in approaches to life (actually, the more accurate term would be differences in fortune, or in circumstances of birth), and never forgave them. Instead of seeing them as products of their times, she relentlessly derided them behind their backs for as long as I can remember. The perceived backwardness of their denomination, the fact that she'd been made to attend Sunday School as a young child, my grandfather's treating her like the tomboy she so often was (accompanied by his wanting to spend time with her doing un-prissy stuff, like having fun while cleaning up the garage or gardening), etc., etc. --- it was all on the shit list.

Her classmates came in for all kinds of grief, as well. Describing them at the time, or telling me about a high school reunion, she'd wrinkle her nose and say "They were all just...so...*typical*". By contrast, she dated a gentleman while she lived in Germany whom she knew had been an officer in the SS during the war; I guess that was OK, because, well, at least he wasn't "typical"! She would talk about him in an almost mischievous tone: wow, look what I got away with. The ethical implications didn't seem to dawn on her. Other people might have hidden such a fact about their past; for her, it was just another notch on her bedpost, another in a long line of men who found her worthy.

But mostly, she seemed to never be able to forgive her parents for not having gone to college, for being products of their time and place, for being themselves. While their idea of a good time was to invite people to dinner around a big improvised series of card tables in their basement followed by an evening singing around the piano, she preferred the opera (and never let anyone forget that she had attended some of Europe's most famed opera houses, fortunately untouched by the bombs of the world wars). She just never got past it, never came to a point of being able to say "You know, they tried their best; they helped me become who I am". Man, did they ever try...through their 70s, an age when she seems to expect being waited on hand and foot by family and friends, they made a very nearly full-time job out of continuing to help *her*...financial infusions after my dad left her, including a brand new car they bought for her outright, hundreds and hundreds of hours of free child care (thank you, Nanna; thank you, Gramps), with overall logistical support, errands, etc.

The position she's arrived at, in her mid-70s, goes like this: "I am *not* my parents; I know how to conceptualize and work with people" (a direct quote from one of her 2006 letters to me). I don't recall anyone ever comparing her to her parents; she's just really, really concerned that people might associate her with "typical" folks.