Treasured Memories

I'm 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?  It's easy. 

Engraved right on it is the following:

Today 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 birthday. 
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?

Was 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 cookie. 

Was 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? 

Was 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? 

My 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.

Even 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. 

But 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


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