1956. The year my grandmother, also named Mary, came from Maidenhead, England, to Covington. Why, you might ask? There, it gets complicated. She had met and married someone from Kentucky during the chaos of World War II. About 18 months later, my mother came along. About six months before that, my grandfather had returned to the United States, leaving them behind for good.
Grandma didn’t let that deter her from building relationships with her new Kentucky relatives. She formed a bond with her former mother-in-law and her former sister-in-law.
Loving letters were sent, thoughtful gifts exchanged, and hope grew within my grandmother that maybe she’d have more opportunities here.
So, she came with daughter, mother and Pinky the cat in tow. A humble beginning with high hopes.
Mary Brenner Gibson had worked hard all her life. That continued in America. As the three generations of Brenner women settled in Covington, Mary found a job at the local newspaper. It was there that she bloomed and found her footing in a new land.
Not that it was easy. There were language barriers. Yes, really. American slang and British slang (words I should not share here) are quite different, as are general terms for basic things such as toilets (loos) and lines (queues). Her desire for hot tea at meals in restaurants inevitably resulted in a tall glass of sweet tea being presented.
She caught on and embraced Kentucky. In fact, she loved it!
As time passed, she remarried, and more children came along. She became a den mother, a Girl Scout leader, a school volunteer and an avid camper. Grandma could name every bird, tree and shrub. Ask her anything, you got an accurate response.
Once, during the 1970s pet rock craze, she presented each child in my second-grade class with a pet rock, all lovingly painted by her. Unfortunately, some of the more rambunctious kids in the class decided that these made better projectiles than pets.
Undeterred, she continued to volunteer year after year—even after the principal banned all pet rocks and nearly banned my grandma.
She loved animals, too. Horses, dogs, cats—you name it. Once, when she was in her 80s and living in Williamstown, I came down for a visit. I needed to use the bathroom, and when I opened the door, I was greeted by a hairy surprise—an alpaca! I shouted, “Why is there a llama in your bathroom?” and Grandma’s calm response was, “It’s an alpaca.” There was never an explanation beyond that. I didn’t ask, and she wasn’t telling.
Year after year, Grandma took the Girl Scouts to Campbell Mountain Girl Scout Camp, where I was always dazzled by her energy and ingenuity. Her annual treks to the Kentucky State Fair were infamous, as she tried to see how many of us could fit into one hotel room (for the record, it was 10), and there was nothing that excited her more than stopping to look at a waterfall. You can imagine her reaction at Cumberland Falls!
In case you wondered, yes, she loved Kentucky Fried Chicken. Eleven herbs and spices and one cup of hot tea, please!
Mary Casey-Sturk | Wilder