This Notebook column was first published in The Catholic Herald on 20th March, 2009.
Johann Hari, the fiercely Left-wing columnist, recently showed his true colours. An arch-secularist, he is best known for rants about anything from nuclear disarmament to how we should abandon the monarchy. But really, we now know, he’s a huge softie.
In a column entitled “In Praise of Grandmothers”, Hari describes Barack Obama’s relationship with Madelyn Dunham, the US President’s maternal grandmother. During Obama’s youth, when his mother and father were elsewhere, it was Granny Dunham who worked every day from 7 am in a bank so she could send him to the best school in Hawaii. And in the days running up to the presidential election, it was her death which caused him to shed one single tear, symbolising his love, Hari writes, “better than a library of lyrical poetry”.
After dwelling on this, Hari moves on to talk of his own, profound relationships with both of his grandmothers. He contrasts the love of a parent and a grandparent, saying: “You come into their lives when they are in their fifties and sixties, when they are relaxed with the story of their life: they know who they are.”
The love of a grandparent, he declares, is pure, clean and easy. He concludes with a quotation from Louisa May Alcott – “a house needs a grandma in it”.
…………………
Spot on, Johann. But even with the softness, there is one thing lacking. I would like to add to his fine tribute something which I think is of equal importance: praise of grandfathers.
Since the beginning of January, I have lost both of mine. Naturally, it has been a time of sadness. But it has also been a time to reflect on their remarkable, happy lives – both died in their eighties and, combined, were married to my grandmothers (who survive them) for well over a century.
My paternal grandfather, Lieutenant-Colonel Richard Heaven, was an artillery officer. After winning the Sword of Honour at Woolwich he went on to win a Military Cross in Italy during World War II. My maternal grandfather, Phillip Clancy, was a Lieutenant-Commander in the Royal Navy before becoming a solicitor. It was only after his death that I discovered he had flown no less than 132 offensive sorties in the Fleet Air Arm during the Korean War. It goes without saying that both men were enormously courageous.
My grandfather demonstrates a mortar to Sandhurst cadets (c.1954)
Like all grandchildren of my generation, however, it was not the youthful courage that I saw first-hand. Despite framed medals, hanging swords and black-and-white photographs of young officers in uniform around the house, I experienced something entirely different.
When I think of my grandfathers, I will remember kind-heartedness, wry senses of humour, grandfatherly patience. I valued their quiet alertness and the knowing winks across dining tables when family occasions bustled with confusion.
I’ll remember the competition over card games (almost always Racing Demons) and wonderfully antiquated career advice. I was intrigued by the hobbies: the model aeroplanes, the sweet peas and carefully tended roses, stamp collecting. I will recall the dignity – and bravery – with which they both confronted the difficulties of old age.
…………………
I will also remember their Catholic faiths. My paternal grandfather was raised Anglican, but married my Catholic grandmother in 1942. It was to the family’s complete surprise that he announced, in retirement, that he wished to convert to Catholicism. My maternal grandfather was raised Catholic, and married my Anglican grandmother. He attended Mass faithfully until the end of his life.
Grandfathers, in my experience, are peculiar figures of warm authority. We must treasure memories of them, and pass on their stories – so they can be examples to us all.
The Next Post: Can Cardinal Newman’s poetry help a Guardian atheist?
The Previous Post: Hearing Israel’s case
Comment Down Here
You can follow any responses to this entry via its RSS comments feed. You may also leave a trackback by clicking this link.