1000:1 Gram

This is probably the best time to set the record clear: my grandma, Dotty (“Gram”) Raun, is not a poser. Those closest to her probably doubt that statement, but it’s true: in both senses. She isn’t a fake; she also isn’t one who likes to stand in front of a camera. Here’s my case:

As long as I can remember (almost at two decades now), I can most vividly remember Gram in three contexts.

1. For me, she’s the one who instituted the “Dillan hello/goodbye.” Each person’s entrance or exit is pretty much a big hug chain.
2. She’s also the one I could count on to referee the food lines. While in recent years this was an obstacle, it was always a help when I was younger. Think of it: what four-year old doesn’t need a person there to help them get watermelon, without spilling it, off of the counter just above arm’s reach?
3. She’s one who hugs at the same level. Those family members who have watched most of the grandkids throughout the years are probably laughing at this one, but Gram is teachable. My brief sojourn from 4’8” to 6’3” was one where Gram quickly had to learn new hugging etiquette. 80 years old and she still learns new tricks. The hugs went from hugging just over my shoulders to the awkwardness of hugging up and over my shoulders (much to the dismay of both of us) to finally attaining the torso hug. She has it down to an art, save for one thing: the 3-part back slap … I’m still working on that one!

All of this goes to show that Gram is real; she takes her grandma role very seriously.

One of the inside (well, it is out now, I guess) family jokes among the Raun side is our dismay with Gram’s pictures. She has virtuously stuck with film cameras throughout the years and, while her pictures are still good, the process remains tedious. First there’s the announcement: “ok everyone, come over here for the picture.” Once we have moved, it’s time for the countdown. Her cameras through the years have all had stuttering light meters that give it a NASA-esque effect: there’s always at least one delay. Five; four; three; two; one. (Pause). (Pause). (Click).

The pictures are mostly wonderful: they’re properly exposed, they capture at least one facial reaction during the process, and they’re taken with love. The process, though, is taxing for all involved. Here’s a story my uncle Mark reminds me of every now and again:

My family took a vacation to Cancun during February of my 6th-grade year. It was a safe trip. None of the cousins were in college yet, it was in February, and we were at a resort with good facilities. Several family members and I decided to take one extended afternoon and drive over to Tulum, a site with ancient Mayan ruins. I was thrilled since I was a nerd even back then and was studying the Mayans in my social studies class. Seeing the ruins, though, was slowed down by Gram’s camera. Retrospectively it’s funny that I was so impatient — it’s not like I would miss the ruins changing! In exasperation, after two aborted posed countdowns, I muttered under my breath “I wish her camera would turn to stone.” Apparently it wasn’t as muffled as I expected because all of us standing in that group started laughing.

Now that I’m most-often on the other side of the camera, I’ve noticed that Gram rarely likes being on the other side of the lens. She reacts like most people by ducking out of the way, if possible, or else doing a forced face, which she knows through past experience looks pleasant, but at the time strains the muscles. Gram is definitely not a poser. My best pictures come when she doesn’t even know I’m there.

Through the years Gram has taught me a lot. Just by watching her tendencies and instincts, I see a clearer picture of myself. Her sleep schedule hasn’t rubbed off on me, but her constant willingness to play the hospitable host is one I joyfully work on. She surrounds herself with reading material, although in her case it’s mostly periodicals, to the point that she finds new and innovative ways to pile in all dimensions; yeah, I’m guilty of that too. She is also a creature of habit. She’s able to multitask by playing card games with my grandpa at the same time that she watches “Wheel of Fortune”; I haven’t found my equivalent, but it probably borders on writing papers while chatting with friends online and watching music videos at the same time.

On Saturday, September 3rd, 2006, Gram turned 80. Thinking of my amount of memories in my 22 years, the ones in Gram’s life have to almost suffocate her. With Gram and I, the irony abounds: we both want to be memory capturers, but mostly to the extent that we’re capturing those of others. Gram, however, through her non-posing attitude, rubbed off on me by showing me the importance of capturing memories with pictures.

The pictures aren’t essential because they show every moment of the event or memory. How could they? No, the pictures are important because they create memories in themselves. With some pictures I get the response: “wow, this is even better than seeing it in real life.” Of course the hyperbole is ridiculous, but it also alludes to another truth: photographs allow us to not worry about remembering every detail of a moment as it happens since we know that there will be another lens to view it through later. One of Gram’s most unnoticed, but incredibly important gifts for our family is her scrap-booking and memory collecting. It’s a gift which is wearing off on the future generations and one which lets us all realize, through our own lenses, how little of a poser she is.