I love questions and observations from readers.
Recently I was asked about my parents’ capacity for giving – their lifelong focus on helping others, even when they had little to give other than their time. Such a question, no?
I think my parents, Sue and Sonny, felt they were lucky in life. Despite the effort and hard work which contributed to my dad’s success, he was famous for saying, “There but for the grace of God go I” in all kinds of circumstances. He never shamed anyone in need and knew when to lean in with a helping hand. My mom, Sue, had the same generous heart when she was well.
As I talked to my reader friend, Andy, we discussed empathy and where it comes from. In his view (and I’ll admit, mine) the care and kindness we associate with deep empathy comes from love, loss and perseverance. First-hand knowledge. Smarts earned the hard way…definitely true of my folks.
In “Surviving Sue” I give a light touch to “Sue and Sonny – the early years” out of deference and respect. There were oodles of details that I dared not share. It’s the memoirist’s challenge. The ongoing pas de deux in my head and heart as I wrestled with family history and storytelling. Being respectful, being compelling but with the requisite delicateness and grace wherever possible. Dancing en pointe. Balance required.
Thank you, Andy, for your question. It sparked the inspiration for this “Peek Inside” post where I reveal a little more about Sue and Sonny’s story and the origin of their big hearts.
Down at the Boulevard
For two years after they met, my parents lived above a downtrodden bar in their hometown. The “Boulevard” had been in the Jameson family for two generations by the time Sue and Sonny discovered it – long before Jackson Browne debuted a fab song of the same name in 1980.
The Boulevard was owned by Maria and George Jameson (yep, I changed their names) and they were warm to Sue and Sonny when the locals – both friends and family – turned their backs on them. Maria and George didn’t add to the chorus of gossiping. Instead, they saw Sue and Sonny as fragile youngsters barely into their 20’s with nowhere to turn and a baby on the way. Little Lisa.
My Dad (Sonny) worked as a bar back to offset the rent for the one bedroom he and Sue shared above the bar and Sue waited tables. All of this was in addition to working their day jobs on an assembly line, Sonny delivering newspapers and Sue taking in other people’s laundry to make ends meet.
I heard loads of stories as I grew up and came to know Maria and George as grandparents. “Gramma Ria” and Grampa G” were loving and kind to Lisa and I both, even allowing us to sleep over on their roll-a-way bed whenever we visited.
Lisa and I loved their tiny apartment, nestled behind the Boulevard’s kitchen and consisting only of a spartan bedroom and a sitting area. The Boulevard was their business and their home. Uncommon now but not in generations past, the blurring of commerce and family life.
Everyone who entered the Boulevard, crossing beneath the threshold adorned with the perpetually blinking Pabst Blue Ribbon sign, was an instant friend. Grace on entry and evermore unless patrons couldn’t curb their bad behavior. Gramma Ria had big ears and no tolerance for nonsense and knew how to fly out from the apartment (in her housecoat and curlers) to shove a mop at any friend-turned-foe.
Considering she was all of five-foot-nothing and Grampa G towered at six feet plus with a low growl, I thought her role as back-up bouncer was quirky but true-to-character. Her don’t-cross-me-because-it’ll-be-the-end-of-you posture was terrifying and hilarious at the same time. Maybe it was because of her weapon of choice? Mop as a machete?
I hadn’t thought about Gramma Ria for years until reader Andy’s question arrived:
Where did Sue and Sonny learn to help others?
Popping to mind immediately? Sweet Gramma Ria. If not for her kindnesses and those of Grampa G, there’s a good possibility I might not have made it into the world. A fractured little family living on the fringe, just a breath from being homeless. Outcasts to most but loved by two tenderhearted souls.
No matter how many times we moved, my parents stayed in touch with George and Ria and Lisa and I thought of them as grandparents, plain and simple. We didn’t question the bloodlines – or lack thereof – because it was unnecessary. Love was love. Ria and George and their extended family treated us as members of the flock. Equal, welcome. Bound by secrets shared and triumph over pain.
When I think about my parents and their gifts in welcoming those in need, being wholehearted givers for most of their lives, I’m grateful they had examples to follow. Found family like Gramma Ria and Grampa G.
Down at the Boulevard…
Vicki 😉
P.S. Check out these related posts about loving and giving or this link for more “Peek Inside” content about “Surviving Sue”:
Peek Inside: “Surviving Sue” – Sue’s Big Heart – Victoria Ponders
The Concert That Never Was… – Victoria Ponders
White Shirt, Helping Heart – Victoria Ponders
Peek Inside: “Surviving Sue” – Sue Had Rizz – Victoria Ponders
I’m grateful for the great reviews on Amazon and Goodreads…and the wonderful questions from thoughtful readers. I welcome more! If you’ve enjoyed the book and my story, please pass along your positivity to a fellow reader.
Victoria Ponders 
Leave a comment