If she were still alive today, Olwen Vivian (nee Skym) would have turned 100 this month. She would still get dressed every day in a smart dress, would still be keeping her mind sharp with crosswords and puzzles, and would still enjoy the beauty of a well-tended garden. Hell, she might still tend to the garden.

She lived over 5,000 miles away from me for much of my life, but when I think about her, it often feels like my grandmother always lived right next door. From the time I was six months old until about 13, I would spend one month each summer at her house. She lived about an hour outside of London in a charming village called Tunbridge Wells on an equally charming street called Liptraps Lane. It’s like something out of a Harry Potter book, isn’t it?

While I only saw Grandma for one month out of every year, my memories of her are sometimes so sharp;. She was my only grandparent, and I think she took that role very seriously.

Things I learned from Grandma:

“What” is crass; “Pardon” is proper
Being British, Grandma did not approve of our use of ‘what’ when us kids misheard or misunderstood something. She said we sounded like ducks. “Whaaaat? Whaaaaat?” she’d mock, “It’s ‘I BEG your pardon?’” To which us American kids would roll with laughter. We could only imagine responding to our teachers back in The States with something as proper as “I beg your pardon?” BUT, you know what? Fifteen, twenty years after those lessons were first taught, sometimes I hear my brother say ‘pardon?’ in place of ‘what?’ Somewhere, Grandma is smiling down at us.

The definition of ‘ladylike’
The biggest influence on my young life may have been my brother. He made me play catch in the backyard, taught me how to collect baseball cards, and included me in elaborate Lego construction projects. But Grandma made sure to remind me that I was still a girl, and thus needed to know what was acceptable (and unacceptable) behavior for a lady. Curse words, and borderline curse words, were definitely NOT ladylike. Sitting slouched, with legs splayed, was NOT ladylike. Dirty fingernails were NOT ladylike. I was dismissive of her rules back then. But these days, if I spy a little dirt building up under my nails, I blush a little at my ‘unladylike’ state.

The beauty of a garden
All these years later, I can still picture Grandma’s house rather well, but the image that’s still clear as day to me is her garden. It was a long, narrow patch of land that to a young kid seemed to stretch on for miles. She had a greenhouse (for growing tah-mah-toes, of course!), a shed (creepy inside, with spiderwebs!), gooseberry bushes (thorny!) and a compost heap (smelly!) at the back. Grandma taught me the value of compost and egg shells for nurturing a garden, and how to pick berries and make fresh jam. Grandma found such joy in her garden, and had this saying posted up in her house:

“Kiss of the sun for pardon.
Song of the birds for mirth.
You’re closer to God’s heart in a garden
Than any place else on earth.”

These are only a few of the things I learned from Grandma. The innumerable lessons she taught me are forever woven into the fabric of my being. For years she was a continent away, today she’s gone, but her most important lessons are always with me: mind your manners, be polite, and find joy in the simple pleasures of life.