The Band Goes Marching On
A Change In TimeCulture gaps are inevitable within families, between parents and children, grandparents and children, even aunts and uncles. Every generation grows up with different values, different beliefs and a different outlook on what life should be like – that’s ‘normal’, as society and expectations on life change as time rolls by. The key to dealing with these cultural gaps is to understand and except one simple fact; Things change.In my small, but rather complicated family, the problem arises with my rather stubborn, and set-in-her-ways grandmother. Esmay, or grandma, as she is better known, grew up in England, already she
was bound to be ‘a proper lady’. She comes from a wealthy family, whose value in women was about that of the servants they owned. Esmay was taught to worship her man, and that a woman’s place was in the house, doing kitchen duties and laundry, and having everything perfect for when the man of the house returns home from a horrendously troubling day at the office. Along came my mother…Esmay never liked my mother, she called her a ‘wicked’ child, and told her that no man would ever want her. In Esmay’s eyes, my mother was the closest thing ...
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was bound to be ‘a proper lady’. She comes from a wealthy family, whose value in women was about that of the servants they owned. Esmay was taught to worship her man, and that a woman’s place was in the house, doing kitchen duties and laundry, and having everything perfect for when the man of the house returns home from a horrendously troubling day at the office. Along came my mother…Esmay never liked my mother, she called her a ‘wicked’ child, and told her that no man would ever want her. In Esmay’s eyes, my mother was the closest thing to the devil that walked this earth. She was outspoken, and wanted to do things for herself, rather than have a man to have to rely on, which was normal for those growing up in the 60’s. And, much to grandma’s surprise, my mother married, and had 3 children. But was later divorced, which delighted Esmay to bits, because her point was proven. In her eyes, mum had failed and that was entirely due to the fact that my mother was independent, and men don’t like that in women.And then there was me…It’s kind of hard to describe yourself, but if I have to put me into one simple sentence, I would have to say this; I am my mother. I grew up taking in everything my mother taught me; Stand-up for what you believe in. Don’t ever let someone tell you your something your not. Work hard for everything-nothing is ever handed to you. And last but most important; Don’t ever let anything or anyone stand in the way of your dreams, because once it’s too late, it’s too late, you can never go back and change the past. So that is exactly what I did, and although I will admit, I did get into a little trouble following these rules, but my mum always supported me, and told me if I really believed in what I was doing, then she was fine with it too. This sent Esmay insane. My sisters followed in my fathers footsteps, quiet, delicate little flowers… I am the devil child’s decent, I was as evil as they came. At the age of 6 I developed an interest in basketball, and as time went on, I became pretty good. This was not good in Esmay’s eyes, how could a ‘girl’ play a ‘boys’ game? What was I doing with my life? I was pretty much as low as I could ever get in grandma’s eyes. She constantly questioned the fact of my sexuality. She claimed that the devil had taken me over and I must be one of those ‘lesbian’ people. In 14 years of me playing basketball, and reaching the level of representing my country, Esmay has never once came to a game of mine – that hurt me.Now that I am older and a little wiser, I have become to realize one thing; Grandma doesn’t hate my mother and I. She is jealous of us. We are independent, and strong and don’t need anyone to rely on – something she wishes she could be. Instead, at 83 years of age, she is still answering to a man that thinks nothing of her. One day, maybe she will realize that too.
