One of my earliest memories of my maternal grandmother is sitting in her small living room at 40 Hyde Park Street, eating Ritz crackers and watching Red Sox games on her small black and white analogue television.
My Grandma K was arguably the kindest woman on earth. Her mild manner, acceptance of what life dealt her, and her aversion to conflict made her a delight to be around. Around Grandma K you could relax. There was never an agenda, never a forced love or demand, always a place.
We would see Grandma K every four years on our trips back to the United States from Pakistan — if you add up how much time I spent with her, it wasn’t very much. Perhaps that’s one reason the memories of her are sweet and strong.
And Grandma K? She loved those Red Sox! They were her team. Had she been alive today, she would probably have been both surprised and pleased that the granddaughter who grew up in Pakistan, the most unlikely one of all her grandchildren, was the one at the Red Sox parade celebrating their World Series win. And enjoying it from start to finish!
So Grandma K and all my Cote cousins, who also taught me that American sports were not all to be dismissed – this one’s for you. Thanks for the memories!