Learning how to love from afar
Families – especially modern blended families – often have to cope with members in far-flung lands and this has led to a generation of grandparents and grandchildren without easy, direct contact. With her wee ones scattered around the globe, Helen Ellis explains how this generation game plays out for her.
Afreshness permeated the July air like the sensesfilled delight of unpacking new linen. The sky was a vivid blue and there wasn’t a breath of wind. It was 1999 and standing in the sprawling garden of our hilltop home on the edge of Auckland, I was ruminating. This all feels bizarre, I thought.
I was 40 years old, the mother of two full-on teenagers and had just become a grandparent – albeit a stepgrandparent. But there were no tiny fingers to wrap around my own. No reminder of the miracle of creation. No baby to cradle and gently breathe in its warm aura.
The newborn bundle was 12,000 miles away. I was betwixt and between, in a befuddled, albeit gladdened way.
My London-based stepson, Guy, and his wife had produced their first of two offspring, a daughter called Kara. She represented the first grandchild for my husband’s side of the family. We popped a bottle of French champagne at an impromptu family gathering. It was an odd sort of celebration: something, or at least someone, was missing. Our world was launching along a path some distance (excuse the pun) from the normal script.
Let me explain… My husband and I are New Zealanders and this country has always been our home. My 30-plus-yearold second marriage created a blended family. We each brought to our union a son and daughter. My husband is older than me and in 1989, the year of our wedding, our children turned 21, 20, 5 and 3 years. We had no children together. Since early into our marriage, our offspring have been on the move. One or other has lived (for either months, years or permanently) in England, Scotland, Northern Ireland, Sweden, USA, Thailand, Democratic Republic of Congo, Senegal, South Sudan and Pakistan.
There was little to describe as typical about our family. We were and looked an odd bunch. These days our children are in their 50s and 30s and I hope we no longer look odd – but on the other hand, we’re never in the same room to be sure. We told our children ‘‘you can do anything’’ and that is exactly what they’ve done.
Going back to my garden ponderings, a few months later champagne was enjoyed again when Kendra, my Edinburgh based stepdaughter, and her Scottish husband, Colin, produced our second granddaughter, Kayley – another out of reach bundle. However, we were fortunate, as New Zealand beckoned and they moved permanently back home. A little while later our only Kiwi-born grandchild, Reyna Hannah, joined the fray. Around the same time, the Englandbased family produced our first grandson, Cameron.
We now had two grandchildren in New Zealand and two in England. The internet was not a part of the world and we relied on costly telephone calls, letters, faxes and photos sent in the mail, and for the next 15 years my husband and I made numerous visits to the UK.
Many years later, my own daughter, Lucy, married an American of Northern Irish heritage and produced my first blood grandson in Bangkok. They visited New Zealand with Peter and we travelled there several times. Their second son, Gerard, arrived just after a permanent move to Atlanta, Georgia, USA. We have visited the States a few times.
Just to add to the globalisation milieu, my son Robbie won a US Green Card in their lottery scheme. How lucky was I? He resides in Chicago where he met his American fiance´ e Jennifer.
The travel gene has successfully impregnated the next generation, and more recently my Scottish-born granddaughter Kayley left New Zealand on a working holiday, retracing her steps to the city of her birth. So, at the time of writing, three of our four children and five of our six grandchildren (aged 4 to 21) live a significant distance from New Zealand. My husband and I have quietly accepted all these comings and goings and I count 18 long-distance visits since the first one left home.
Once my daughter produced grandchildren, our roles as Distance Grandparents started to become a part of our identity. Conversations with friends frequently commenced with questions around ‘‘how are the kids?’’ and ‘‘where are you heading to next?’’.
For three decades my working life focused on business ownership and the travel industry. As a high school student, my sole ambition was to gain a position in this field and I achieved my goal. Down the track I owned a niche travel company for 11 years. This delighted my accountant husband as a portion of the costs of our UK/Europe travel to visit family could be legitimately ‘‘written off’’
for business reasons. My appetite for far-flung places was fuelled through my work and has never waned. I am a planner and am never happier than working on the intricacies of a complex travel itinerary.
Food traditions and rituals are centre stage for distance families. Before any family visit (in either direction) grandparents go shopping. Certain food items are top of the list. Great effort, expensive luggage allowance and determined shopping expeditions are afforded treasured gourmet fare. Eyes light up and mouths water when cherished treats emerge from suitcases.
Yorkshire teabags and chocolate covered ginger biscuits from Marks and Spencer were frequently mentioned by UK-based Peter Gosling. Cecile from Canada has transported her country’s famous maple syrup from Quebec to both Norway and Cambodia, along with homemade rhubarb pineapple jam.
There is probably no more iconic a New Zealand taste and smell sensation than the vegetable extract product Marmite. On our last USA visit we carried eight large jars. I suspect the reason one suitcase missed a connection was due to the dense jars of Marmite which likely attracted the attention of the American Aviation Environment Federation.
After already travelling 19 hours we had to wait at the airport another hour or so for the next flight, which delivered the missing bag and suspicious contents. When travelling to the UK we have to carry a particular sherbet sweet which can only be bought here. While I was writing this chapter a request was made via Skype: ‘‘Please send some fizzy lollies.’’
Rhonda (NZ/Germany) is a very capable cook, gardener and seamstress. When I asked if her family had any food traditions she promptly replied, ‘‘As long as there is plenty of cake. Everyone likes Grandma’s baking.’’
I am no baker like Rhonda; however, I am known for my old family recipe fruitcake. I gingerly attempted to pass on a love of this treat to my American grandsons who live in a country that has little appreciation of this delicious English pleasure.
It is no exaggeration to say these young lads have become obsessed with fruitcake so it is transported in suitcases (with the Marmite) to America. It has even achieved the lofty status of Santa’s favourite indulgence. A slice is left under the tree on Christmas Eve along with the English tradition of a glass of port.
This senses-filled (sight, taste and smell) fruitcake experience for my grandsons has evolved into an embedded family tradition and builds bonds and connections while simultaneously trying to offset the unsettling nature of Distance Grandparenting. Fruitcake is a working partner in my Distance Grandparenting role.
Grandparents comment that they miss cooking for and hosting family gatherings. Having all your family sit around the same table is a muchcherished, out of reach luxury for most Distance Grandparents. They are a chance to share ethnic and favourite childhood dishes. These times lessen anxiety and keep connections alive. One mouthful at a time a life imagined is savoured and temporarily the distance doesn’t feel as vast.
The last time this occurred for my husband and me was in 2009 in New Zealand. One child lived nearby and the others arrived from Dunedin, London and South Sudan. It was a case of good luck rather than good management that our four children were in the same city and country at the same time. We enjoyed just one treasured evening meal together, sitting around our dining table. I have no idea if, or when, this will ever happen again.