One of my favorite issues of The Saturday Evening Post is November 8, 1947.
I mean, no, I wasn’t alive in 1947; however, my dear Gram was.
She was young, vibrant, and beautiful. In fact, she was so young, vibrant, and beautiful that Norman Rockwell selected her as a model for his iconic Saturday Evening Post cover, The Babysitter.
My first memory of hearing that my Gram was the spunky redhead in the Rockwell painting was one Christmas when I was a young boy in Vermont. After a long, beautiful day of celebrating with the family, I stood in my Gram’s hallway donning my little snow boots, mittens, and winter coat to brave the late December New England temperatures as we ventured home. I looked over and saw a framed piece of artwork mounted on the wall. My father said, “You know that’s your Gram, right?” I scoffed in disbelief that the young girl in the painting was my grandmother because, like other children, I had a hard time conceptualizing that my Gram was ever that young.
As the years passed, I paid little attention to the framed print. I didn’t appreciate that my Gram was even more special and well known than I thought, and it wasn’t just for making every holiday so incredible for me and my cousins, or for introducing me to sweet pickles, which I love to this day.
It wasn’t until my early teens when my Gram and I worked together at the Wilburton Inn that I realized she was a celebrity of sorts — especially for Norman Rockwell fans.
As a special engagement, the inn displayed The Babysitter painting featuring none other than my Gram, Lucille Holton. The painting itself was memorable for art lovers, but for me, seeing the pure delight on my Gram’s face, hearing her unique and joyous laughter as she told and retold the story of her part in this little piece of art history, is a truly priceless memory for me.
To millions, she was the relatable late 1940s teenage girl who was in a little over her head as she earned some pocket change by babysitting on a typical Saturday night. Who knew this flustered girl would grow up to be a wonderful mother, grandmother, great grandmother, and great-great grandmother?
Life happened, and I moved several states away, but when I’d come back to Vermont to visit, my Gram and I always seemed to pick up right where we left off despite the time and miles that stood between us.
In January of this year, I received word that my Gram wasn’t doing well. Quick arrangements were made to get back home to see her. The night before I left, I was able to hear her beautiful voice on the phone. She asked me if I was happy, and I said, “Yes.”
I am so glad my Gram knew I was happy.
I got the news that she’d passed away just as I was preparing to board a plane back to Vermont to be by her side. I have many times wished I’d have left earlier, maybe spent more time going back to my hometown and visiting with her, but I know the incredible memories that we made together will always be enough to fill the part of my heart that belongs only to her.
Really, not every grandson gets to point to a famous painting and say, “That’s my Gram!”
But I do.
I love you, Gram.
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Comments
First of all, my condolences on the recent loss of your grandmother. I’m very glad you had that last phone conversation with her that meant so much to both of you.
I intended to be with my mother when she passed in late 2013, but wasn’t. It took me a long time to get over that, but I did. Things happen (or don’t) for reasons beyond our control. ‘The Babysitter’ is one of my favorite Rockwell covers also, and I’m glad you got to see her light up when she spoke of her own story with the cover and witnessing the love she received back in return; going back to when you were a teenager at the Wilburton Inn.
May I just say how pretty, vibrant and proud she looked at 90 holding ‘her’ issue of the Post? Thank you for also sharing the more recent photo of you and she together. The mutual love really comes through, and just know she’s still with you.