In very different and distinct ways, my two grandmothers were probably some of the most influential people in my life. Thinking back, I remember them as being strong and stubborn. As a child, I gave both of them the same nickname: “the rock.”
My Grandma Flora, from my mother’s side of the family, was “the little rock” as she was tiny and fragile looking. Her eyes were inquisitive and fiery, her sight was penetrating, her voice was soft, but her words were decisive.
She was a very well-groomed little lady that spent a lot of time taking care of her appearance and keeping her house and affairs in proper order. Nothing ever slid by her. Delicately, but convincingly, she made sure that everyone knew who the boss was.
Grandma Flora was born in a destitute family on the arid mountains of Macedonia. She knew early on that her only chance to escape perpetual poverty was to get an education or to marry well; she did both. She was sent to school at the expense of the small community of her village with the understanding that she will be teaching the Aromanian dialect to local children in need to keep alive their heritage in a foreign land. (Romanians living south of the Danube are specking this dialect in Greece, Albania, Bulgaria and former Yugoslavia which Macedonia was part of.)
Flora was a young and pretty elementary school teacher when she met and married my Grandfather. He was running a series of successful businesses in their Bulgarian mountain town by the banks of the Bistra River.
My Grandfather Costa was involved in different activities, from tobacco plantations to orange groves and he also owned the biggest coffee house in town, where local men met to discuss business matters and be away from home. He was running the inherited family business and Grandma Flora was running him.
Her diplomatic approach and ladylike manners made it easy for her husband to let her be in charge.
Intelligent, energetic, and very organized, she also had a great memory and a head for complicated affairs. She knew when to push and when to back off.
Flora was a master manipulator. One would have never expected so much unwavering tenacity from such a tiny lady. She was happy to let others think of her as “just a pretty doll” and proved them wrong every time they would try to take advantage of a situation.
Grandma Flora was always in control, pulling strings from behind closed doors, “wearing white gloves,” and letting others do the dirty work for her. She expected a lot from everyone and knew how to get it. Her personality was that of a well-cut, clear, cold diamond, a precious “little rock.”
She valued education, refinement, and above all, good manners.
She ruled the life of her children and maybe changed their destinies by arranging marriages and prohibiting separations; all in the name of love, but also, to some degree, out of selfishness masterfully disguised.
From Grandma Flora, I learned that: “One should ask God only for good health and light. The real light comes from one’s soul. The mind is nothing but a storage place. Without the “light” it is cold and it is dark out there “in the storage room” and no one can ever find their way. The only eyes one ever needs are those of the mind and soul; the rest is just some kind of green, blue or brown ornament.”
My other Grandma I called “the big rock.” Gica was a tall, corpulent woman with a strong voice. She was a peasant and proud of it. She never tried to impress others. All she ever wanted was to make sure her family was safe and prosperous. She needed to make sure that her little fortune, accumulated through hard work and sacrifices, was being protected.
