The Grandparents’ Room
CAROL HAUSMAN
Aers, a box of Depends — all signs of degeneration. In one corner an old
walker, a long row of medicine contain-
grandfather clock, not in use for the past several decades. I wonder how this family expands
to include two old people. I used to think that
multigenerational homes worked best when the
grandparent, usually the grandmother, assumed
some of the household tasks while the middle
generation went to work, or back to school, on
vacations, out for the evening — a two-way
street. The Obamas: Could they have run the
campaign and now the country with their minds
at peace without grandma helping the girls with
their homework, hugging them when they get
home from school, tucking them in when their
parents attend a state dinner?
bers need clocks, for the grandparents life is like
Shabbat — a palace in time, a well-earned period of reflection.
When my own father came to live with us, he
insisted on a working clock, and he checked it
against his watch and radio dozens of times a
day. Pop moved into our home a few months
after my mother died. Without any prodding, our
son Ezra went to his grandfather’s room every
day after school to listen to all the old stories.
They played piano together as my son tried to figure out how his grandpa played two songs simultaneously. Pop didn’t need to check his watch
at 3:45; Ezra’s visit told him what time it was.
While the rest of my family was able to accept
him as he was, with all his frailties, for me, the
constant tyranny of time and the residue of
past pain, kept getting in the way.
I’ve since discovered that even when grandparents can’t contribute in any instrumental
way and indeed require care, their presence in
the home can still be a blessing. It gives the family the opportunity, day after day, to perform
mitzvot, to obey the commandments of kavod
and mora, honor and reverence, and to live our
ancient Jewish values.
The Mayer family (fictitious name) consists of
two grandparents, two parents, and two teenage
grandchildren who have lived together for three
years. The grandparents are about 90 years old,
cognitively intact, financially secure. When we
spoke I heard: “it’s not a burden, just sometimes
an inconvenience,” and “we like what our kids
see,” and “my grandma taught me tolerance and
persistence and she has a great sense of humor;
all my friends call her bubba,” “bubba and zaydie
are more loving toward each other than they’ve
ever been,” “it’s good for the grandchildren to
have someone to talk to when they come home,”
and “this is what connects a family.”
This particular family is blessed. Issues of
space, money, residue from bad relationships
June 2009/Sivan 5769
growing up, cognitive impairment, incontinence
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— don’t exist. While all the other family mem-
I was the timekeeper, the organizer, the appointment maker, the bank. I had to count the
hours that the aide worked, prepare my father
for outings, ensure his medications were taken
at the right hour. The constant demands precluded a time to mourn for my mother. The
hours spent finding and supervising daytime
caretakers, the lost sleep over middle-of-the-night emergencies, the lack of any substantial
help from my sisters, left me angry, stressed,
and impatient. While the rest of my family was
able to accept him as he was, with all his frailties, for me, the constant tyranny of time and
the residue of past pain, kept getting in the way.
Carol Hausman is a clinical
psychologist and gerontologist.
The founder and coordinator of
Washington Jewish Healing
Network, she is on the faculties
of Georgetown University
Medical School, Washington
School of Psychiatry, and the
Reconstructionist Rabbinical
College.
L’dor v’dor, from generation to generation. I
asked the Mayer family about conflicts, how
they get beyond resentment and anger. The wife
said they listen to each other, sh’ma. The grandparents have their own area of the house where
they have privacy when they want it. The
daughter takes care of their needs, sometimes
hiring helpers. They know they can’t always be
there nor can they do everything: lo aleicha.
Friends, Jewish and not, call them bubba and
zaydie, kibud av v’em. The peace in the household is palpable, shalom bayit. The two younger
generations in this household see the spark of
the divine in the old folks, b’tzelem Elokim.
Not all families have the living space, the
means, or the love with which this family is
blessed. We can’t all meet this rare standard, but
we can try to come close to it, depending on our
parents’ physical and mental conditions, our
own limitations, and our family relationships.
Being in the Mayer’s home for a few hours felt
like a fantasy, but what I saw was an example of
the best it can be.
