Mi Abuelita
"Ohhh Jack Baby Jack Baby Jack Baby" my grandma, Eva Navas, said as she carried me around our house in Yellowstone National Park, WY, just after I was born in 1987.
My grandma was 42 years old when my dad was born in 1951 in San Francisco, CA. It was just after World War II and my Grandpa, John de Golia, had just returned home. My dad is a classic "oops" baby boomer.
My grandma was a jovial woman. Small in stature BIG in personality. She felt with every fiber of her body and you knew EXACTLY how she felt at all times.
She was a self-taught English speaker and spoke in broken terms a lot of times. "It's right there, second shelf up from the top down." My dad remembers her saying and having no clue what the hell that meant.
Originally born in Léon, Nicaragua in 1908 she was the middle child of three. Great Uncle Julio being the oldest and Great Aunt Berta (aka Pita) being the baby.
Grandma and her siblings grew up mostly in Granada and Managua in a well off family. When her Grandmother died, the family had a squabble over money, the money was misused, and it quickly evaporated.
My grandma and Pita moved to San Francisco (SF) in 1928. No money and nothing to lose they moved to be closer to Julio. By then, Julio was a successful liquor salesman in Marin County and was known as "Joe” since it was easier to say compared to his birth name. He was in SF due to contracting malaria earlier in his life. In those days, some of the only cures were to change climates.
Pita and my grandma eeked out a living in SF. Then, and no one really knows or remembers the story, she eventually met my grandpa, John.
My Uncle Ron was the first son and was 14 years old when my dad was born. Ron grew up speaking "hard" to Grandpa (English) and "soft" to grandma (Spanish) which was pretty typical of mixed cultural families in San Francisco in 1940’s. This communication method changed by the time my dad arrived and everyone spoke English.
Grandma didn't think she would live long enough to see my dad have children. He was the age I am now (36) and my grandma was 78 years old when I was born and she first met me. I was her buddy from then on.
I remember going to Rossmoor in the East Bay Area to visit typically during the summers. She would always give me "chugar" (which is how she said sugar) and I would sit in her lap while she would tickle my arm and talk to me. I loved doing that.
My mom remembers first meeting my grandparents and thinking "they were tiny people." I take after my grandfather in both height at 5'5" and hair style (bald in my early 20's). The first thing my grandma did when she met my mom was take her by the arm and asked "how are your teeth, dear?" If my dad was going to be having any children the genetics of the mother better be good by God.
Grandma died when I was 4 going on 5 in 1992. I don't remember much more than that. Weak from old age, she was in a car wreck that made her feeble toward the end of her life. But throughout my life I've always taken pride in being 1/4 Nicaraguan and have always been intrigued with the culture and especially the Spanish language.
In 2004 I had an opportunity to go to Nicaragua with my older brother/best friend Eric. He had a work trip due to a student who was teaching at a boarding school in Granada from the University of Montana - Western in Dillon, MT. We got to see both Managua and Granada.
And I got to see where Grandma was from nearly 100 years later..…
I'm sure that I got my passion and big boisterous feelings from her via my dad.
Thankful for the time that I did have with her and prideful of my heritage. A goal in my life is to become fluent in Spanish. 2024 is when I plan to go full boar into this endeavor.
Most important in life is where you're going. But equally powerful is where and who you come from.
I'll always have pride in the fact that mi abuelita es de Nicaragua
Adios