My paternal grandmother, Margaret, loved to tell me stories about her life, and I loved listening to them.

She told me about what it was like to hide in a bomb shelter in Plymouth, England during World War II, playing cards and telling jokes to pass the time with neighbors, and then emerging to witness the destruction, clean up, and move on with their lives.

We laughed at stories about "French letters" (condoms) littering the streets of England, her 20-something sister's naive explanation of sex (it involved nudity and urinating), and nude theatrical performances that she had attended with my grandfather.

She told me about camping trips. On one trip, a bear began rocking their teardrop trailer, where my father, grandfather, and uncle were sleeping. Then it began rocking the car, where my grandmother and aunt had been sleeping. Each group suspected each other of playing a joke them. When they realized that there was a bear nearby, they began to yell, and the entire campground came to life and started yelling at the bear and chasing it into the woods. My uncle, who was only three years old at the time, also began chasing the bear with a stick, and they had to save him from getting into a fight he would certainly lose. On another trip, another bear, begging for food, slammed down the passenger window of their car as they parked in line and waited to leave Yellowstone. My grandmother had been sitting in the passenger side of the car, and the bear hit her arm. Fortunately, rolling up the window was enough to discourage the bear from persisting.

She especially liked talking about her childhood and teenage years. The milkman would pull up in his horse-drawn cart, come in through the kitchen door, and sit down for a chat and a bit of tea. The mailman often did the same. Everyone in the neighborhood knew her family. Her mother raised her and her two sisters alone. Her father was in the Royal Navy but had nothing to do with any of them; he was out having affairs and adventures. The girls often went to the beach where they would burn and blister, but they didn't let that stop them, and they just went back the next day and the next until finally they'd tan. (She later battled skin cancer repeatedly.)

One of the stories I enjoyed the most was a story about how all they all kept a family dream journal. If somebody had an unusual dream, they would wake up and write it down in the journal. Then later the rest of them would read it. It was a major source of entertainment and left them all rolling on the floor with laughter.

I like that idea. I think I'll start a dream journal too. And I'll share it with everyone by posting it here.

Labels: I Had a Dream, Inspiring People I Admire