GINNY HAYES, INTERNATIONAL WORKING WOMAN
I was 3 when we moved to Buffalo in 1978. The part I liked best was my new next-door neighbor Ginny, who quickly became a surrogate grandma. She was kind and smart and totally fun. I also loved that when I got to be about 5, she saw no reason I should not learn a little Latin.
Because I saw her write “i.e.” on a note—or maybe “e.g.,” I forget—she explained both of these abbreviations, translating “id est” and “exempli gratia” for me as she wrote them down. (Fourteen years later, I decided to major in Classics.)
One hundred and two years ago this coming Saturday, Virginia Allan was born into a generation of upper-middle-class women for whom teaching was one of the few acceptable occupations outside of motherhood. Convinced that young people were capable of learning a good deal more than most adults believed, Virginia Allan Hayes became an amazing elementary school teacher.
When she died in 2002, I was writing poetry pretty regularly. The sonnet form felt right to try to present the warmth she nurtured within the constraints of social expectations. It’s maybe a bit more sentimental and artificial than I’d like, but that third quatrain really does describe something cool about multiples of 9.
Whether she showed me how to make a salad or how to win and lose at cards gracefully, I realize that Ginny was educating me during most of the time we interacted. She reinforced everything I was internalizing next door about the value of reading and writing the world.
Each Monday brought our special world of two.
While Mom was out, I played with you next door—
Soft cookies, Diet Coke, and toys in store;
Routines we loved, and often something new.
At Spite and Malice, rummy straight and gin,
For hours we’d sit with decoy playing cards
Me never seeing why the games weren’t hard;
I beamed, while slyly losing you would grin.
And you who knew such wild multiplication—
Two numbered columns ranging naught to nine,
The second running upside-down the line—
Would love to push my young imagination.
The life you nurtured knows no way to end,
My second grandma, playmate, teacher, friend.
[Photo collage from a scrapbook page by my mother, Gretchen Brand.]