In Memoriam

Pauline Edith Lang Given

Sept 1919 - Sept 2008

All my life my siblings and I called our grandmother "Dum." The way my Mom tells it, I wasn't too successful at imitating her in calling her "Mum." Dum never minded; she signed all her birthday cards and Christmas presents that way. Having grown up with it, it seemed perfectly natural to us. Didn't everyone call their grandmother "Dum?"

Dum passed away about three weeks ago. She was 88, a few weeks shy of 89. She lived in Maine all her life. My parents and I moved away when I was just six months old, so most of my memories of her are vacation memories, when either she would come to wherever we were living at the time, or when we would make our celebrated cross-country roadtrips to "Vacationland" (as the state license plates one time wisely proclaimed).

Everyone, I'm sure, has moments of temper and instances of nastiness, but I'm sure I never saw them in Dum. Her adjectives are undeniably "soft" and "gentle." The things I remember most about her were her soft, squishy lips when she gave you kisses, and her soft voice with its mellow Maine accent. In the wrong hands Maine accents can be harsh and grating, but hers was soft and soothing. There was something about her voice that reminds me of a lazy tabby cat. A little tired, a little hoarse, a little shy and reluctant - half purr, half meow. She chuckled slowly as if giving in to outright laughter might attract attention and change the dynamics of what she was enjoying. As kids she would blow bubbles with her gum and let us pop them with our fingers. This could go on for an hour. I can only imagine what the gum was like after dozens of grimy kid-finger pokes. She was steady, dependable, undemonstrative, even retiring. She really loved her grandchildren (and great-grandchildren) - that's something a kid picks up instinctively.

I know it was her time, but I'm so very sad she's gone.