Taking a Break from HRH blogging to write about my Nana

Joyce Goodwin Kent December 4, 1929-January 8, 2023

My nana was born just after the stock market crash of 1929, lived through the depression and several wars. She had two markedly different adulthoods; one with my Papa raising kids, and one in her 70s with her second husband Charles Kent, who she traveled with and was finally able to sit back and let someone else take care of her.

She was a mother to 7 children, my mother recalls the excitement and joy every pregnancy and birth brought her, even though there were lots of very hard…very meager times. Seven kids to feed and a husband who was constantly losing and gaining new jobs took a toll on the family. She picked up lots of odd jobs, made meals stretch, and learned how to sew so he kids could fit into hand me downs from the local church.

My memories start around her early 50s. I was born when she was 50, when her oldest was 27 but her youngest, my Aunt Beth was 15 and still living at home. Its an interesting overlap most grandparents no longer have; children still living at home to support while you are also a grandmother.

She loved this! While she was gritty and resourceful and hard working and creative, she was also a child at heart. I think that is probably what stands out in most of her grandchildrens’ minds. I can remember the house in Medfield, so small it would fog up the windows in the winter with body heat and people laughing and singing. She always hosted every Christmas, birthday, graduation, retirement, wedding party with gusto. Even though I am an introvert and some of the time this was overwhelming I think I felt most loved as a kid at these fetes. My family was boisterously LOUD, everyone shouting over everyone else to be heard, singing and music always in the background. It was wonderful to be surrounded by this cacophony.

In her 50s she wasn’t on the couch watching movies with us, she was on the ground playing with us. She taught me how to hop on a pogo stick, how to walk on my hands (she often demonstrated this ability at parties) how to draw with my toes, how to gamble, how to climb trees, how to play jump rope- in the house, how to paint and draw, how to make a slip and slide out of regular old plastic, how to wiggle my loose teeth until I could pull them out—— and how to never pass up a good cuddle in bed.

When I was 6 or 7 she took me to the Boston Ballet to watch the Nutcracker and to this day I never pass up an opportunity to watch the Nutcracker Ballet every Christmas, even if that means I have to watch it on TV. I have become a connoisseur of Nutcracker Ballets, I prefer the traditional ones that have a full orchestra as I loved to feel the instruments as well as see the dancers. That Christmas she also bought me a ballet Tutu, blue with blue sequence. Those who know me know that I was adamantly against all girly things, the most offensive was any sort of sparkly dress, but that tutu was so special coming from her after our shared trip into Boston. I still recall how excited she was watching me in awe of the theater house, the bustle of the city, the sounds and smells of the T and sharing in the joy with me.

Another prominent memory is when we went to Hilton Head Island with my cousins. Though she could be competitive and playful and push you to be independent, she always made me feel so safe. It was my first time in the ocean with an oncoming hurricane and the waves and undertow were so strong. At about 40 lbs I couldn’t go in the water without getting pulled under, and I wanted to be in the waves playing for hours. She would go in with me, my hands gripped in hers and we would get tossed around in the surf, always with my hands firmly in hers while she never let me get pulled under. I knew no matter what that when I was with her I was safe. After the storm passed, I remember exploring the aftermath with her, thousands of tiny jelly fish littered the beach, we hopped over and around them and collected all sorts of shells and driftwood. She was always up for exploring.

Her lap was always open to her grandchildren, and well into my 30s she would invite me to sit and give me a hug and tell her what was new in my life. There is a picture of me, as an adult on her knee at almost every Christmas party. This is also partly because in our family of 40+ I was a full foot shorter than everyone else. Most of my cousins and aunts and uncles height averages around 6 ft…which means since I am 5’3” there are several relatives well over 6 ft tall.

In her early 60s she found herself a widow. Rather than shrink away, she met this challenge like she met every other challenge, with the love of her family and a positive attitude. She joined art groups and sold her paintings and stained glass artwork at different art fairs, she found herself continuing to help her kids by watching her grandchildren as parents went off to work, she continued to live her life to the fullest.

In her 70s she was gifted her second love in life. She was reconnected with an old family friend and they hit if off immediately. She always liked to try to shock people, she liked to see people squirm a bit, and when I was in college she would try to tease me that I wasn’t the only one dating and how did I feel about an old grandma going on dates. I, understanding that this was her game…which also was mine at the time as a teen that enjoyed going against social norms, would shrug and tell her we should double date 🙂

I think the most important thing she taught me was about love. It should be given freely without strings attached or conditions. It’s the one thing that there’s always more of. You may be short on cash or luxury items or vacations but there’s always a never ending supply of love. People may say that money makes the world go ‘round but she’s proof that it’s really love.

I talked to her a lot in the past few weeks. We reminisced about the time she took my sisters hamster out of the cage to get a better look at it and it jumped from her hand. They had to chase it around while our dog tried to eat it. She finally caught it by the tail, only to have it break its tail off…and they continued to chase it around, my sister beside herself worrying the dog would eat Tippy, the hamster. She recalled how I used to be a night owl. When my papa died I was 11 and she would spend the night at our house off and on. I would quietly stay away until everyone went to bed at midnight and I would sneak into the guest bed with her to snuggle, my cold feet making her shriek, giggle and hug me tighter. She talked about the time she and my mom visited me in college in AZ and how she had a few too many Long Island iced teas and how my, now husband, had to help her out of the car.

She was funny, and warm, but always brutally honest in that New England sort of way- you always knew exactly what was on her mind, nothing was ever held back. Even with 7 kids, 7 in laws, 20+ grandchildren and 21 great grandchildren she still always had time for you, she never forgot a birthday or an event and had an amazing memory for each one of her family members, always making us all feel equally loved and important.

I will miss her lots, but am so thankful for the gifts she gave me; the honesty and the artistic creativity I posses, the love, laughter and child-like curiosity about the world that I have as well along with all the fun memories I have with her.

I love you Nana.

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  Visiting me in college in AZ

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  Some of her grandchildren and a few spouses