11th Anniversary-90th Birthday

Today is the eleventh anniversary of my grandmother’s death.  Of course I miss her, and she still my hero and my greatest inspiration.  Teresa Anne Clarke was born in County Fermanagh, Northern Ireland on January 17, 1920.  Perhaps ironically, she shared a birthday with Benjamin Franklin, who was one of my childhood heroes along with another notable of the American Revolution, John Adams.  

When I was a kid, most of the grandmothers I knew were jolly, at least somewhat chubby old ladies who stayed home and baked cookies, and they definitely did not have Irish accents.  My grandmother was thin as a rail, worked full-time as a nurse way past retirement age, and bless her, possessed cooking skills commensurate with the stereotype of people from her native land.  She could also be tough, saying exactly what she thought to whomever she wished to say it, which sometimes caused me not a little discomfort.  However, she was mother, father, and grandma to me, raising me from the time I was a toddler.  She worked hard to instill in me a sense of faith, honesty, and integrity.  Because of her, I've never doubted that I could do anything-that the world was open to me.  I honestly don't know where I'd be if it weren't for her.  

Today also would have been my Uncle Tony’s 90^th birthday.  Yes, my grandmother died on her brother’s 79^th birthday.  My uncle was known for his intelligence and humor.  Uncle Tony was a chemical engineer, but he told my brother and me that he was a comical engineer, which made more sense to us given our age at the time, and considering his dry wit.  On a good day, I like to think that I get my sense of humor from him.  During his career he lived in The Hague, Japan, and the United States, of which he and my grandmother both became naturalized citizens.   While my grandmother lived in the U.S. for the remainder of her life after marrying my American grandfather during World War II, my uncle lived his last years in Ireland, having moved back there after retiring.

This time of year used to be reserved soley for Independence Day and its meaning to me as an American.  For the last eleven years, and certainly for the remainder of my life, it has an additional meaning.  I think of two fantastic people who, while not born in this country, loved and respected it and grew to think of it as their home.