Grandma Drove the Car, News, Bantam, 2013-2014, AAA (Oakville Rangers Hockey Club)

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Oct 25, 2013 | kgordon | 1565 views
Grandma Drove the Car
When I was a kid, seeing Grandparents at a hockey game was pretty rare. Today, you can’t go to a game at any level without running into Grandparents at the rink. We certainly live in different times. Divorce and unplanned pregnancies have taken a huge toll on what once was the “traditional” hockey family and Grandparents have come to the rescue to help besieged single parents and in some cases have even stepped in to raise the children. Of course, there’s the Grandparents who just want to see their Grandkids play, which is great, but this story will celebrate those who had little choice in the matter.

However rare at the time, it was my Grandmother who took the bullet for my high school hockey schedule. I grew up originally outside of Boston and my parents went through a horrific divorce in my Junior year of High School. They both felt it would be better to remove me from the drama and send me to Vermont to live with my Grandparents. That was a bit of a ruse actually, because I really ended up living with my Grandparent as my Grandfather was rarely around and it wasn’t really his fault.

Growing up in Boston and later 20 miles or so outside of town, Grandma’s heart was really in Vermont. It was mostly because she was a devotee of the “Sound of Music.” You see, after fleeing Austria (you’ve all see the movie) the von-trapp-family-resort-stowe-vermont-paul-smithsGrowing up in Boston and later 20 miles or so outside of town, Grandma’s heart was really in Vermont. It was mostly because she was a devotee of the “Sound of Music.” You see, after fleeing Austria (you’ve all see the movie) the Von Trapp Family ended up in Stowe, Vermont. That began a 20 year pursuit of my Grandmother’s dream of convincing my Grandfather to move to Stowe. He finally relented in the early 70′s and built a home there, but that also meant he would spend scant time in Stowe because his job was near Boston – about four hours away. So, long story short – I ended up with hockey bag and suitcase in hand relying on a woman who had never been to a hockey game in her life (the Von Trapps you see, only ski).

Because of all the commotion at home in Massachusetts, I never got my driver’s license until later in my Senior year, meaning for a good part of a year it was Grandma who had to find every dang rink I played in and drive me there. Stowe at that time had only an outdoor rink not suitable for High School hockey games and our “home ice” was an hour away at Norwich University. Our pre-freeze practice schedule sent us up to Leddy Park in Burlington, a full 45 miles away BEFORE school. Needless to say, Grandma bit off more than she ever wanted to chew.

She hustled me to practices at the crack of dawn, picked me up hours after school when we practiced on our outdoor Stowe rink, took me SYH-Masthead-1to doctors’ appointments because of my balky knee, hiked me to games at Norwich, the Quebec border and as far south as Bennington. She did this in what northern Vermont winters offer best – sleet, ice and massive snow storms with temperatures sometimes hitting more than 20 below zero. She not ONCE complained. At games and practices she would sit idly by and knit. A thermos of hot tomato soup at her side, all 4’10 inches of her was totally at peace in the corner of the rink or in her New Yorker with the heat running if we were at the outdoor rink. I got some really nice sweaters out of it.

The funny thing about it was she could never have told you who won, how I played, or was even remotely aware that when we played at Winooski, the penalty boxes were set so “fans” could spit on me from above when I was in the penalty box (which was frequent). But she was still there. Always.

For reasons of which the depths have only been shared in therapy, my Father never saw me play hockey (or any other sport). But Grandma never missed a hockey game. The only thing she ever asked me was, “did you have fun?” We could all learn a lesson or two from Grandma about post game analysis.

I probably never appropriately thanked her. I was a punk high school student and was not in my formative “appreciative” stage of life. She died tragically of diabetes at the age of 62 when I was a 19 year old overseas in the Navy.

Do me a favor. Even if you don’t have a Grandparent at the game, thank another family’s Grandparents for being there. If it’s yours – don’t make the same mistake I did – make sure you find a time to let them know how much you appreciate it.

Posted by Editor on September 11, 2013 in Family, For Hockey Parents
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