sitting at my computer with a beautiful seashell in
front of me. It is tortoise colored and has the
faint sound of the ocean still in it when I press it
against my ear. This seashell is defiantly 118
years old. How could I possibly be so sure?
right on it is the following:
is October 16th, 2006. So you see, I know the seashell
is 118 years old. And I also know who Rose Watchmaker
Silverman is. She was my grandmother and today is her
Were do I start with the Enchanted Memories that go with
this fine lady who loved me so deeply that a day doesn't
go by that I don't miss her? (She died in 1970) Was it
her house when I was a little girl? That magical
apartment on Rosin Rd. in Brookline where the old
upright piano stood next to the wind up victrola (record
player) and I kept myself busy between playing the black
keys on the piano, pretending to play Chinese music, and
listening to Caruso (a famous Operatic singer) sing
opera on the victrola?
it the pantry where the colored glass plates in piles on
the shelves fascinated me? Was it the bedroom with the
iron framed twin beds where my mother and I would sleep
and the birds singing in the trees outside the windows?
Was it the smell of fresh air and fall leaves when we
sat on the front porch? Was it when I got to sit on my
grandmother's lap as she sang God Bless America to me?
Was it my Grandfather's kind ways? He would sit by my
bed when I didn't feel well. My mother tells me he sat
all night when I had whooping cough.
Was it sitting around the big giant dining room table
with my grandfather David, my grandmother, my mother and
my uncle Howard who was yet to marry? Me in the high
chair drawn up to the table and everyone eating Oreo
cookies. For some strange reason I was always given the
Oreo already open. It was tasty but I felt cheated. The
grownups got two cookies and a filling-I got only one
it the times my grandparents took me to the Swan Boat
rides in the Commons in downtown Boston? Me in a
starched pink dress that tied in the back, on my knees
on the trolley seat, looking into the darkness
underneath the city? Them holding my hands as we walked
toward the Swan Boats?
it the slightly naughty ride to Boston in the train from
New Haven where I had to slump down in the seat so my
mother could pay less for me than if she told the
conductor I was 5 or was it 6?
times with my grandmother were Enchanted Times because
they had a heightened atmosphere that has stayed with me
all these years. You know what that heightened
atmosphere was made of? Not perfect people and not
people who never got angry or never yelled. It was made
up of love. It was that simple. My grandparents loved me
without question or demands. I was treasured by them and
that made everything in their world infused with
pleasure for me.
touching my grandmother's things made me happy. And to
this day that is still true. Her white marble bust of
the beautiful lady sits in my living room on the black
pedestal. She always told me to be careful of it, as
originally she had two statues and over the years one
column and one bust fell and cracked. So she was left
with the one combined statue. I've been careful and even
had them repaired. That giant dining room table is now
my dining room table and the buffet with it still smells
very faintly of my grandfather's scotch bottles.
it is the seashell that I'm in tune with tonight. I'm
singing Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday, Dear
Grandma, I love you So!
Do you have some Enchanted Memories of someone special?
Share them with us please. Write to me at Drbarbara@enchantedself.com.