My dad always used to say to me, “Ardys Evelyn lives on,” which always confused me because I didn’t know who he was talking about. To me, she was just “Grandma.” As I got older, I figured out that I was reminding my dad of his mother-in-law even though I barely knew her.
When I taught myself to knit during high school, I didn’t think of it as something that might connect me to my past. To me it was just another thing to do that I thought might be fun. Then my mom started mentioning that she knew my Grandma Scott was watching down on me, very pleased that I had gotten so involved with knitting. My grandma had been a dedicated “fiber enthusiast” for many years. She crocheted, she knitted, she quilted, and she was such a talented seamstress that she made nearly every article of clothing her family ever wore, including her daughters’ wedding dresses. She was known throughout her community and she frequently taught the neighborhood girls how to knit.
It’s really too bad that I never got to know my grandma because we do have so much in common, and I would give anything to talk to her about knitting in particular. I’ve managed to glean through other peoples’ memories that she knit English style (I knit continental style), and I’ve even found a few things she made that my mom had put away. I’ve examined each item, looking at each stitch, knowing that each was done by her capable hands and wondering what she was thinking about when she did this row or that row – how old was she at the time? Was she tired that day? Busy? Happy? Angry?
The truth is I didn’t know any of my grandparents. Cancer and I have a pretty serious beef. My Grandpa Hugh on my dad’s side passed 10 years before I was born, at the age of 60 from colon cancer. My dad was 26 when he lost his dad, the same age I am now. It gave me a much different perspective when I realized that. I’ve spoken to friends about this, and it’s hard to imagine our parents ever being as young as we are now. I just got married this year, and I wouldn’t trade for the world the memories I have of my dad walking me down the aisle, giving a toast, and sharing a dance with me.
My Grandma Lois on that side remarried after her husband died, and though she died of heart disease when I was about 1 or 2 years old, her second husband, Kenny, died only a couple of months after Lois of colon cancer. I’m always jealous of my older sisters and cousins when they tell stories about how much fun they had with Grandpa Kenny on his speedboat at the lake in the summertime.
My mom’s dad passed away just two weeks before I was born. His bout was with prostate cancer and he was 64 when he died. Now that I’m older, I often think of what it must have been like for my mom to be 8 ½ months pregnant and have her father pass away. She’s told me that out of concern for my well-being she really didn’t allow herself to grieve the loss until a couple of years later when my dad’s mom also passed away.
Finally, I come to my mom’s mom, my grandma Scott, who my dad so lovingly says continues to live on through me and my love of crossword puzzles, game shows, arts and crafts, and card games. I actually have a handful of memories of her. I spent a lot of time with her in the hospital because she had a very lengthy bout of uterine cancer that spread to her cervix and finally to her brain. I don’t actually remember her in the hospital, but I remember the hospital lobby very well, and I remember that she always used to buy me Skor candy bars from the hospital pharmacy. I remember the bright yellow New York vanilla ice cream she used to give me when I was at her house, and I remember banging for hours on her piano pretending that I knew how to play – that must have been terribly annoying but she never asked me to stop.
My mom has told me a story that I love. My mom and my grandma were sitting at our house chatting one afternoon. My grandma had lost her hair to her chemotherapy treatments. Because it was a hot Iowa summer and it was just the two of them, Grandma had taken her wig off. Apparently I had gotten dropped off by someone and ran into the house. My mom says that she was panicking because she thought that if I saw my grandma that way it would scare me – I would only have been about 3 or 4 at this time. But, my mom says, I didn’t even notice, and I ran straight into my grandma’s arms, happy as always to see her.
On my fifth birthday, August 24, 1989, my grandma was in the hospital in a coma. Everyone knew she was close to the end. My mom had been at my grandma’s house packing up some things and found a doll in the closet that I had asked for for my birthday. My mom wrapped it and gave it to me, telling me it was from Grandma, and I was none the wiser. By September, Grandma Scott had passed, and I didn’t really think about not having grandparents except once a year when my mom was my guest for Grandparents’ Day at my elementary school.
When I was a little older, maybe 8 or so, my mom had a melanoma on her arm. I think now about how cancer seems to run in my family, and how many have died at relatively young ages, and I thank goodness for the talented medical researchers that put in place the measures that kept my mom from getting sick, and me from growing up without a parent. I know that even missing out on having grandparents is trivial compared to what some children face because of cancer – not just the grief of losing a parent, but frequently losing their own very young lives.
Most of all, I’d like to convey that I am extremely hopeful. I’m hopeful that cancer can be eradicated in our time. I’m hopeful that we can make advances in treatment so that quality of life can be continually improved. So much progress has already been made. I believe that at least a few of my grandparents could be saved or at least have their lives significantly prolonged if they were sick now rather than 25-30 years ago. When I look at how far we’ve come, I can only begin to imagine where we’re going.
What Cheyanne is doing is incredibly inspiring, and I wanted to support her in the best way I know how. My contribution will be to make a gift to the highest donor to Crossing for a Cure between now and when Cheyanne makes the swim. I’ve been knitting for just over ten years, and I’m constantly bombarded with requests to have me knit something for each person I meet. Well folks, here’s your chance. The individual who makes the highest donation between now and Cheyanne’s swim will receive a custom knit hat and scarf set handmade by yours truly. I will donate the yarn, supplies, and my time, and I will help the winner to choose what pattern I will use and what kind/color of yarn based on their own personal preferences of color and texture, and I will size both items to custom fit.
In order to enter the contest you must send your check and contact info to P.O. Box 3344, Iowa City, IA 52244 between now and the day Cheyanne returns to Iowa. If you make your donation directly to Holden Comprehensive Cancer Research through the donation page, that’s awesome, just inform us of your pledge by filling out a contest form. Make sure to include how much you donated in order to be considered (This amount will be kept confidential). The highest individual donor between today and August 24th of 2011 will win!
Thanks so much for your continued support of this very worthy cause. With every stitch, I know that all of my grandparents’ legacy, and the legacies of everyone who’s fought cancer are being carried on.
-Bond DeBolt Drager
