A Treasured Family Memory

I grew up in St Leonards in Dunedin. We have a close-knit family, and all lived within the same block at the time. My grandmother, Ruby, lived in what’s known as the “pink house” – my grandad, Wattie, built it for her – on St Leonards’ main road. While my mum, Pam, was away in Melbourne, I would visit Ruby for cups of tea – a big tradition in our family.

We drank gumboot tea. Her favourite tea was most likely the special of the day, being of the postwar era. She would get out fancy cups – I was given her roses tea set – and her mother’s milk jug and we would chat about life, her stories or art. We shared a love of painting: Ruby painted in oil paints at the kitchen table, was a member of the local art society and loved to paint landscapes, animals and flowers – she would have a go at most subject matters. I think I got that gene.

Ruby used to tell me stories about people, mostly family stories of love, laughter, sadness and tragedy. One stands out: her brother, Ian Grant, died in the war, aged eighteen. The effect on her and her mother was profound. After the grief, they picked themselves up and were determined to enjoy everything life had to offer, laughing at themselves, the quirks that pop up in life, and holding their family close with love, open-mindedness and generosity of spirit. We all learned a lot from her, which has held us in good stead for the rest of our lives.

One birthday she gave me a humble pottery vessel used to store tea leaves. She was an avid repurposer of things, and ahead of her time in a lot of ways. At the bottom of the tea vessel there was a cardboard note that said, “Have a cup of tea with me. Happy Birthday.” I’ll love her forever and remember her every time I use it to store spoons and tea infusers, even though the lid is gone and it’s getting old and chipped.