Nana and the Grudge

Nana and my Dad

My Nana - Clara Sanborn was born on April 5, 1895 and lived to be 105 years old.  She managed to live on her own until she was 103. She would do her own gardening, made her own meals and was happy to out go out with her grandchildren and great grandchildren whenever she could.  She was born and raised in Lexington, Massachusetts and was of a very sturdy New England stock. In fact, she often referred to herself as "a tough old bird."   She could be imposing and quite frankly a little scary.    She also had a very long memory and could hold a grudge for decades.  Needless to say, just like the Incredible Hulk, you didn't want to make my Nana angry. 

My Uncle Bud and Dick 

I was just about seven years old when I  first heard the tale of the "Damn Dick Cunningham."   It was a family legend of how a simple act of childhood selfishness could haunt you for the rest of your life.   Apparently, Dick  and my Uncle Bud were about six or seven in the late 1920's.   The Cunninghams were kin on my Nana's side - in fact Dick was the son of Nana's sister Helen.   He had just gotten some Necco Wafers from the 5 & Dime.  When my Uncle Bud asked for some - he wouldn't share them.   Now, these days most child psychologists would probably say that because he had just gotten them and needed to feel like he had ownership of them before sharing and that his reaction was completely normal.    But back then, parents would get involved in the petty little disagreements that their children got into, words were said and relationships were broken (okay, human nature being what it is - things haven't really changed that much in the last 70 to 80 years).   Nana got angry about Dick not sharing his candy and let her sister Helen know about it.    That was the beginning of the end of their relationship - which seems pretty silly and I've always wondered if that roll of confections was the fuse that blew the family apart.   She would refer to her nephew Dick as "that damn Dick Cunningham" for the rest of her life.  I mean the woman could not let it go.  She would regale anyone she could about it - even Max who she met in 1988 clearly 60 or more years since it had happened - but to her it was a fresh as the day it happened.  I often wondered why it was such a sore spot - why did something so meaningless mean so much?   It frankly was not until I started to write this blog that a few reasons started to come together.  

Nana and John Cody, Sr.  - 

As a kid growing up I was confused as to why my father's name was Cody and yet his mother's name was Sanborn.  When I was in my teens that I was told that Grandpa Sanborn was not my dad's father but step father but that he was more of a father than my real grandfather.   I've learned since then that my real grandfather was an alcoholic and that Nana and he divorced when my father was really young - maybe 7 or 8 and then never really had anything more to do with the family.   I think my dad saw his father a few times but not that much before he died.   It must have been incredibly tough back then to get a divorce in the late 1920's with two sons.   I mean most women stayed in bad marriages because that's what you did - you put up with it for the sake of the children.   Marriages weren't always about love - they were sometimes about arrangements.  Good families merging with other good families to keep a good family name.   So being a women who wanted out of a marriage with an alcoholic who was probably abusive for the sake of her children was virtually unheard of.   It also must have been difficult to prove that you could take care of your children on your own. I'm sure that there were other women: family, friends and neighbors struggling with the same issues but who put on a happy face squelching their own needs for love and affection and enduring terrible living arrangements behind closed doors.   Having the strength to say, "Those days of dealing with a falling down drunk, worrying that he'll hurt me or the kids in a drunken fit - well I'm putting an end to that," and then dealing with the fallout must have been scary.  Man, I never thought of Nana as ballsy - but my God, that took some intestinal fortitude that few women back then would be willing to take on.   The stigma alone could have left you ostracized from bridge clubs and social functions as other women might worry that you were out to steal their men or the men would be afraid that you would put crazy ideas of independence into their wives' heads.   Unlike widows, you choose to leave your husband which might have made  you immoral in many people's eyes. 

My Dad and Bud - mid 1920's

I'm sure that decision did not go down well with some of Nana's siblings and that might explain why she was estranged from her sister Helen  and a few other family members.  Back then, it was until death do us part and if you didn't suck it up and keep up appearances you could bring shame to your family.   I'm not saying that divorce in this day and age is easy but 80 years ago, it must have been excruciating but better than living in a torturous marriage.   So how does a woman in the 1920's start over with two young boys?   How do you even begin to date?   How do you deal with the smirks and the whispers in the background as you walk the street with your sons who no longer have a father in their lives.  For my father and his brother Bud, it must have been extremely confusing - to have your father in your life one day and then completely gone the next and still know that he's alive but just not coming around.  I would think that sense of rejection must have been huge.  With a modern divorce rate of 50% in our society - there are plenty of kids who you share your pain and confusion but the late 20's were not exactly a time to turn on the radio and hear Dr. Phil help families sort it all out - only 8 in 1,000 marriages ended in divorce.  There were no support systems.   It helps explain now why my Dad was so easily frustrated and would blow his top over relatively small things - having something like that happen at an early age has got to be traumatizing. 

 Frank, Nana and Bud

Frank Cody - WWII

A few years later, Nana met Willard Sanborn who was a kind and gentle soul - I'm guessing the opposite of her ex-husband John.  She stayed married to Willard until he passed on in 1981.   He was the yin to her yang - fun and full of quips while Nana could be stern and a little humorless.   From what I understand, he had a great relationship with his my dad and Bud but it was clear that Nana was the mother and she had the last word in how they were raised.    It's interesting that in this family portrait, it's just Nana, my Dad and Bud but not Grandpa Sanborn.   I have to wonder if his limits as a stepfather were set - he was the father figure without the father authority - that all went to Nana.    Her boys were everything to her - I guess they helped her heal after the divorce and gave her the strength to find someone to help raise her boys.   I remember her saying that when they both went off to serve in World War II, that she never slept at night because she was terrified that they would get killed.   My father served in the army in the 179th Signal Repair Company.  He was in Normandy, Northern France, Rhineland, Ardennes, and Central Europe.  My uncle Bud spent most of his time training soldiers on Miami Beach and never left the states, and yet she used to worry about Bud the most.   Both boys came back from the war unscathed, got married and had kids and made sure that their mother was always taken care of - no matter how difficult she might have been.  

Willard Sanborn, Nana, Dad, Mom, Grandma and Grandpa McCann

Making room for the women in her sons lives is something that she had a hard time with at first.    She was a very imposing mother-in-law from what my mother told me.   My father's real name is Frank but when he went to college, he wanted to be called Bill.   Anyone who met him at that point in his life knew him as Bill Cody, not Frank.   My mother, Jayne McCann, met him at Carnagie Tech where he went to college on the GI Bill.  She fell in love with a man named Bill.   When the time came for her parents and Dad's parents to meet, my grandmother McCann said to Nana, "We just love the idea of Bill joining our family," to which Nana responded - "His name is Frank and I'll thank you to call him that."   Oh, those stern New Englanders.    Even better, when you read the write-up of my parent's wedding in the Wheeling West Virginia New Register that  the bride's mother wore a "suit of costume silk shantung in beige and a burnt sugar coat" while the groom's mother was "attired in a gun metal gray dress with black accessories." Nana's ensemble sounds like an outfit better suited for a funeral then a wedding but then her baby boy at 32 was finally getting married.   Interestingly enough, despite his earlier childhood mishap, Dick Cunningham was a groomsman at my parent's wedding - they managed to stay close in spite of the infighting between their parents.  

Bud, Dick, and Dad with Rex the Dog

I guess the Necco Wafers might have symbolized something more than just a child's natural if selfish act.   Maybe it was Nana's need to make sure her kids were happy outside of the home in light of the instability they were coming back to.   Maybe her sister's marriage highlighted how, in her mind, that she might have failed in hers.   Now when I think about these things, my Nana does not seem all that imposing.   She was a young woman just trying to do what society expected and what she didn't expect was a drunk for a  husband.   She probably spent many a night crying because she wondered if she did something to cause all this because all the women around her were appearing to manage their marriages just fine.    How lonely it must have been not to share these feelings with anyone.   Maybe she tried to reach out with her sister Helen and was treated harshly.   From what I understand, when Helen died, Nana did not even go to the funeral.   It's sad when family disagreements can keep you from sharing things with your sisters and brothers and yet families get torn apart over all sorts of seemingly silly things as well as the big things.  Sometimes pride gets in the way and time erodes love that should be timeless.   But sometimes all you have to do is pick up the phone, say you're sorry and be surprised that you can pick up right where you left off before all the conflict happened - you just have to have the courage to do it.    Even after all those years when Bud and Dick had worked past "the incident," Nana could not let it go.    She had the courage to leave a bad marriage but not to offer forgiveness - I guess somethings are easier for some people than others. 

Nana with her 13th Great Grandchild Amber

Here's the crazy thing - I was born on the same date as my Nana - April 5th.    My name - Kelley was actually Nana's mother's maiden name and my middle name is Theresa the same as Nana's mother's first name - her mother was Teresa Kelley.   My mother came up with these names on her  own having no idea what they meant to Nana.    When I was a young girl, Nana didn't seem to smile much but then she'd probably been through more than I could understand.    When I became a mother she adored Amber and  used to say that "I could eat her without any salt!' which I figured was a compliment.   When she had to go into a nursing home at 103, I was amazed that she lived on her own for such a long time and even managed to make friends in her new surroundings.  When she died at 105, I was sorry that I didn't see her more in the last few years of her life - being in Georgia it was hard to get back down to Miami as often.   But I hope that if I got anything from Nana, it was her tenacity, her bravery and her longevity.   Hopefully like Nana,  I'll make to the century mark and become "a tough old bird."  Necco Wafers anyone?