By BARBARA CROSS,
Spring Grove Area High School
Grandmothers have a way of knowing things. There they sit in their rockers knitting away as if nothing ever entered their peaceful world except knit two, purl two. Their silver hair knotted into a bun and a pair of dainty glasses perched on their noses is a subtle mask that makes us forget that at one time, they, too, were young. So, when I was about 9 years old, I brought to my grandmother’s attention a problem I was having at school. She thought only a moment and replied so readily, as if she, too, had been having the same thoughts I was.
“Grandma,” I said, “the boys at school always say that I’m ‘mixed up.’ During recess, I can never decide whether I want to be an Indian or a cowboy. When my art teacher asks what my favorite color is, I can never decide between green or red. And I cannot make up my mind whether my favorite animal is the lion or the lamb.”
“Aye well, I suppose ye are mixed then,” she replied, with a clever twinkle in her eye.
Seeing the unsatisfied look on my face, she continued.
“Remember child, ye did not git here all by yourself, ye know? There are generations upon generations that have given you their positive and negative traits. If you look into the mirror, you will see a face that is more than your own. In your face, there are thousand of generations that are mixed like you. You have your mother’s face, your father’s face, your grandfather’s face as well as mine. You are a mix indeed, for all the things that are your family’s, are now your own.
“As for your dilemma, it is best to love, than to scorn everything. As long as you see favor with both red and green, lions, lambs, cowboys and Indians, ye will always be happy.”
