Grace Meredith’s Memoirs
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I loved it at my grandmother’s and aunt’s place in San Rafael. She was a smashing woman with blue eyes like lasers, it was wise not to get her full attention. Once a week she baked an angel cake with rosemary leaves on the bottom of the pan. When it was done they were removed and the cake dusted with powdered sugar and put on an elevated limoge stand. Then tea was made in her best Spode(?) teapot. I had to wash and put on a starched dress with starched bloomers and at five years old be ever the adult she expected me to be. She’d read political articles to me all week and expected me to have an opinion on the issues. She also expected me to learn three new words everyday, what they meant, how to spell them and three new chords on the piano. During tea I’d be questioned on the words too. All of this was redeemed by the angel food cake and all the elaborate china that was so beautiful and only used on these occasions. Because she was treating me like an adult lady I’d rise to the occasion and act very poised and polite even though those bloomers were very uncomfortable.
She’d been the only daughter of wealthy parents and only married my grandfather when he’d agreed they’d live as brother and sister for three years. He owned a textile business and after he died my grandmother preserved big trunks of all the different samples in a basement room. I was only permitted to see these for ten minutes every two or three months while she stood and watched. It was Heaven to me! All the colors and designs and so many I couldn’t begin to see them all. I liked seeing those better than anything. So much richness, each different than the other, a little like people. Twice a week we’d all put on starched dressed and go downtown to shop on the main street. Small grocery stores kept their fruit and vegetables and flowers out in front on wooden stands. Each thing they bought was very carefully inspected first and commented on. It was a beautiful scene and so peaceful, gentle, like time had slowed and a kind of perfume had seeped through the pores. After ice cream cones we all sat on a bench in the courtyard by the court.
In San Francisco as a child I always had purple mottled legs it was so cold. Much fog and the foghorns sounded to me like a voice of doom, heavy and doleful. They brought back the memory of when a strange man tried to drown me at the beach in SF and how I got washed ashore. After that nightmares and then pneumonia and in a hospital for a month, I had to learn to walk after this but was mostly confined to bed. Mom fixed up a room for me that felt bright and safe. I had a green wood bed tray. One day she brought me a huge box of little cars and trucks and stop and go signs—one was a taxi! I would pretend I was in downtown SF, in control of traffic and it was the best toy I had like I might not be able to be out in the world but I could create something that could be like how it was.
Halloween I got to sit on Mrs. Blaney’s lap covered in blankets while mom poured Ivory Flakes out the window like it was snowing! When I was stronger I got to go down and get the mail from our apartment box. One day I pulled out a little blue box and opened it and it was chocolates. I decided they’d never know if I ate it; it was delicious! I looked around at all the mail boxes had these and decided they’d never know either if I ate some, went back upstairs and looked as innocent as possible. About almost an hour later I started to get stomach cramps and ran into the bathroom. This kept on happening for about three hours, the pain pretty bad. Mom and Mrs. Blaney didn’t say a word; that was pretty peculiar. Later it was discovered and it was Ex-lax in these blue boxes. Mom went, “you see, young lady what can happen if you do something like that!” I never did get sympathy when I tried things and they didn’t turn out well.
In 1st grade my friend Ann and I would walk home together and she said, why didn’t I try her bike? I was told never are you to ride double on Ann’s bike or any bike. I always though what they don’t know won’t hurt them, So I hitched a ride on the handle of Ann’s bike and we went down this hill faster and faster then the handle turned and I went off into the space landing on my chin an lips and nose. Was bleeding pretty badly so Ann insists we go back to school and see the nurse. I nurse called home and here came mom and Blaney say you look just like a Wrangi(?), laughed. No sympathy around at all and once more a criminal. They didn’t understand that when you are not been able to do anything but stay in bed you have to try everything you can before you have to go to bed again. You must feel alive. Vital.
On your own time, it gets dark outside all the women in the family wanted me to be a young lady and have dolls and stuff. I wasn’t interested in a doll, they had no life. Then I was given a baby carriage and we had two Sealyhams(?), Lady and Bell, Lady my dog. So I put her in a big doll dress and bonnet put her in and drew a blanket up to her chin. I wheeled this down to my dad’s riding school and people would stop and say, "Can I see your baby?” and lean over to see and Lady would growl and they’d grip back! It was a very satisfactory. The stable backs and a few of the mafia had to see this arrangement.
Sometimes Dad would hand out a big potato and ask me what I’d like him to make. I always asked for a running horse and in ten minutes there’d be a Fantastic one. One of the old stable backs had an old, medium-sized dog Sadie(?) and every once in awhile Rin Tin Tin huge German Shepard on the black would show up and attack Sadie. So one day dad showed up with two black Schnauzers he’d bought from a man at the racetrack. He said, “Now we'll wait till Rin tin tin shows up, be a nice surprise.” Sure enough there came Rin tin tin to get Scottie and those Schnauzers both bit in to Rin and Rin ran for his life and never came back.
He was known as one of the best horse traders and was one cool customer. They didn’t know he’d learned some cures for horses in South Africa so a trades be absolutely delighted if he sold a horse cheap that was a real lemon think he’d pulled a beat on Dad who let on to nothing but had the cure for it. Frankie the trader was the worst so dad relished greatly, so maybe 6 months later he coming over to see a horse dad was trading. He’d have me saddle up the scrumming bun and incurable horse Frankie had traded him and be riding this horse in the ring when Frankie arrived the horse in perfect condition. Frankie would take a closer look at the horse then try to turn casually away and no comment. Yup! A Very Sweet Moment. As in Gotcha Good Frankie! The unspoken language with his horse traders and silence was priceless.
A nice real picture of a horse we called the Dummy, a slow-going Bay leaves ____ and not to be trusted. Like when he tried to brush off a man by going against a barbed-wire fence. Next day Dad said come Grace time to teach the Dummy some manners. He hatched up the wagon and put longer reins n the Dummy and we took off what the hell and turned us around pulled Frankie within 2 inches of the barb wire fence and we rode down the hill. Frankie trot better after that but remained sour. He looked good too so Frankie kicked in the dust a few tines and I said no 125,000 and leave and Dad said No” 150 so Frankie leaves and dad said check your watch Grace he’ll be back in 10 minutes. !) minutes later he comes back pays the 15 and dad hands him the rope. Sale completed so Frankie gets closer to the Dummy, the Dummy moves his left front hoof on Frankie’s foot and wont get off.
Mom was a Wheaton College graduate and a classical pianist who practiced 6-7 hours a day and gave concerts. She wasn’t allowed to date and at age 26 ran away to San Francisco. She applied at a riding school for a job as a bookkeeper even though she knew little about this she knew she could do it. The owner was greatly attracted to her a well known horsemen and polo player from South Africa. They married and later my sister and I came along. Her mother was furious and wouldn’t see or talk to her for two years. Mom became an adept rider who later showed horses. He’d appear with a truckload of horses and drinking unloaded them and none night homed(?) on the ring sides(?) and said, “OK let see if these horses can jump!” Put Momo on one after another and fortunately they did jump and Momo was superb and seemed fearless. Both my parents seemed fearless so I grew up believing I must never show fear and if I felt it I had to stay cool and collected and seemingly calm. This seemed to save many bad situations where at a very young age I was sent in to make peace and stop fights. I never felt like a little girl but an adult acting like a little girl.
The trauma from this went deep. I was always cold and not able to concentrate at school because that reality was nothing like the one I had to live in I that was to be kept secret. I’ve had to work very hard and go through much pain to come out and with good psychologists, psychiatrists and mentors helping me. It had become my goal to rescue my inner child, be a child I could be now when old buttons get pressed and set off a cellular memory the 1st thing I do is make sure I’m warm and that it’s all peaceful and secure feeling. Often I’ve proud that the average woman would be just as scared as I am when certain things happen. I’ve been able to help more people because I’ve “been there” so I know what it feels like. So my experiences haven’t been in vain and when I paint my works it’s a great comfort to the people that have them.
I’ve used Mrs. Blaney et al as the peace and happiness she brought to us. Out many trips to the Golden Gate Park to “borrow” flowers, see as much as we would and even write stories about things. The way she’d have the house all neat and tidy and the smell of warm apple pies in the air. During the Depression she took our bacon fat home to make stew. Her Black Oxfords worm and walking bunions, 100’s of men lined at the Embarcadero. There were soup kitchens, Mom sold some of our furniture but never let on how bad things were. Many times after school one of their wealthy friends would send their limousine and chauffer to pick me up after school. Mom and Dad were part of a fast set of wealthy people and very much appreciated. Later Dad helped several of their nearly adult kids get straightened out and I learned to kind of tell if they were going to straighten up or not by seeing them on a horse. If they remained impatient, reins tights, the horse nervous because they violent only to show off this kept up despite instructions, no~ they weren’t wanting to change, their ego too strong. The ones who listened to instructions had respect for the horse and developed good hands and seat Yes! They’d make it much later come back and thank my Dad and so would their parents. I brought a few kids to ride English when I was a kid myself. Easier to teach children than adults.
Before this period in my life I was sick a lot and after getting strep throat, with a high temp was rushed off to the hospital and after that I had rheumatic fever. Sometimes the pain would be incredible every joint would hurt. I moved much or got cold. Mom would put me in a big hot bath and after bundle me in blankets with a hot water bottle. I developed an engorged heat that was dangerous so I was kept in bed for about four years. I had a little radio, books, crayons, and paper and didn’t move around a lot as it would stir up the pain. I drew things I remembered and made up a code I’d conceal in them of things I was to tell no one. I was allowed up sometimes when things seemed better for a limited time. When I had my 13th birthday I was given a dress that was a green print with white collar and cuffs a little v-neck. Ralph, my mother’s lover took me out for hot chocolate and I felt thrilled in that dress and so grown up, like I got to experience the world for the 1st time.
At 12 my parents had divorced and I felt pretty lost. I tried calling him but didn’t know what to say. Everything felt so bleak, my heart got worse and back to bed. Mom hired a private nurse, it was touch and go time, and I was finally allowed to visit my Dad with the nurse and her up for 15 minutes. I went out to the pasture and climbed on top of the barn so I could feel free. Everything looked so glorious from up there. Then the nurse started calling and getting madder and madder so I jumped down on the manure piles she had an attack. Every moment of freedom was priceless to me and in nature dying didn’t feel scary but being a part of Dad ____ to Mom after that I heard he told her “let me take Grace giver her a chance to live before she dies.” The nurse hot fired, I was sent to my Dad’s little cottage by the riding school, surrounded by green pastures and with trees a little brook and horses grazing.
It was Heaven! I’d never been very hungry and was thin but there the smell of Dad and bacon and eggs. I got hungry and I had a whole world to investigate. It was like I’d become a cowhand or cowboy overnight and no longer sick, shut off form the world but the potentials endless! I was given my own horse to ride Blue Lady (a red roan). Dad and I would go to the store and he’d tell the butcher, “I want enough steaks for 4 people” He’d wrap that up for our dinner and ___ make all this thick gravy which we’d load with pepper and put on bread. Some hot tea with it put on the old wooden table too, my Dad and I discussing horses, we’d pretend it all off with gusto. Then at night go out and he’s shout with huge solid gate to the hills and we’d sit in front of the office and big white owl that lived in the top of the barn would sail out. Such perfection those pristine times of beauty Dad trying to teach me all about life. I was Free at last! I’d be given one of his pole ponies for rides alone up into the hills, free to go anywhere. The smells up there delicious and in ___ groves Spanish moss dropping down. I was aware that nature carries some sublime force I’d run my horse as fast as I could to try and get swept up into it. All are the glory there would become on even greater one of driven nature. If my heart started a flip flap feeling I’d yell, “Come on Death! Come get me!” I was so tired of dying I had to cha__ it, had to know I had guts, so stay as free as I would be for Dad showed me what it was like to be alive, about beauty, what freedom feels like. He taught me that beneath everything is something else, to respect this be aware of it. I try to put this in my paintings that wonderful something exudes love.
____ Colors cause when I paint I don’t know what color is going to leap out on the paper, it all seems to shape up of itself. Sometimes I open my paint boxes I might not have used for a month or two and the paint can cake , can take form, and are all wet and ready to go. To me that means I’ve gone there a period of transitions and changed inside and so am now cleaned up enough to paint again, reached come deeper understanding. I don’t just paint and paint all the time I must live life to have something to bring. Every form of life can bring some ___ translated as being an art form of some kind. Like the way the plump little Mexican/American women who farms in Salinas lights up as she tells me her recipe for pepper for chili rellenos. “No they don’t have to be peeled, just make a long slit and stuff with cheese and sour cream and bake about 15 minutes, 4 for $! (cheap dinner for 2). Both of us knowing in these times what a good hot meal can do. We shared a lot of the unspoken and that to me is art! As it’s finest. To smile on one of my walks at an elderly person who’s kinds bent over. At 1st they looked surprised and then smiled straighter up and walk on feeling good. My heart is proud of them, happy for them all of this art form. To me art form carries love. I know I shrunk way back on the phone the other day and said, “Now you are near the End.” I thought gee whiz, what I do now? Doesn’t he know all of us stand on banana peels? What have I left undone? “Shaping up people like that, seeing if I can get them to art form that heart!” _____ what each day will bring and avoiding the ___ from “now you’re reaching the end!”