Elizabeth Marie Banisch Gardner
November 4, 1924 to October 29, 2005
By Maggie Curry
One of the most striking traits of my grandmother Elizabeth to me has always been her desire to learn. She used to teach elementary school and never seemed to lose the student in herself. She was always reading books, magazines and newspapers, visiting museums or watching the History channel.
Once Grandma had taken my sister Lura and I to a museum, when I was maybe 12. We walked by paintings and I stopped at a blotchy one and said, “Why is this here – I could paint this!” She asked me if I knew the difference between that painter and myself. I said no and she replied “They painted it and got it in here and you did not.” I think of this as a small but profound moment where a point of view finds its way into the fundamental way you see yourself or the world. I am grateful for the sense of possibility her comment gave to me, and I’m grateful that years later I told her how important it was to me. She was pleased.
As a child, Grandma was slightly mysterious to me because her sarcasm went over my head. Her encouragement and kindness did not. She was very gentle when I was small. I remember hanging clothes with her in the Mississippi backyard and feeling perfectly happy as she smiled at me, and I think she felt the same. I remember playing endless board games with her. Loving attention is the best gift a child can have and she gave it in abundance. I remember Grandma braiding Lura and Amalia’s hair every day. I remember her letting us use her paints.
Painting was such a large part of her life. I admired her dedication and effort, especially during the beginning years when she felt she struggled to paint well. I again admired her dedication in the last few years as she remained determined to paint and draw despite her Parkinsons.
Some of the simple pleasures of her early childhood stayed with her for a lifetime and she spoke very lovingly of her brothers and sisters. Over the years I had the chance to hear her express different things she valued and loved in each of her children. Grandma’s close friend Caroline told me that Grandma expressed the same feelings to her.
In the last ten years I grew to love and know her from an adult perspective. In our talks I valued her candor, sense of humor, and sometimes startlingly precise observations of human nature, including her own. I was enriched by her compassionate and open minded viewpoint on almost all political discussions about different issues and people.
I enjoyed watching old black and white movies with Grandma and Grandpa, and having tea with them as they got ready for lunch. Those were the times when Grandma would often talk to me about her life, and the subjects that came up most were the days of her early childhood, the early years of her marriage to Grandpa MD, raising her children, teaching, and the natural world. Grandma often spoke with happiness about the beautiful trees, flowers and landscapes she had seen over the years. She spoke with clarity about many of her former pupils whom she fondly remembered.
The younger generation of our family brought her great joy and was often the subject of conversation including Simon, David, Michael, Dakota, Lola and Ian, Joe, Bryan and Pattie. She kept in touch with family and friends through letters and phone calls.
There are inexplicable things I will miss, like her handwriting on envelopes, or hearing her radio playing classical music, and the more common-like hugging her and sharing important events.
I will miss so much sitting with her, talking or not. There was a particular and precious comfort there that I will not find replaced.
I know she knew she was loved by us all. I loved her very much and ultimately what I miss is simply her unique and irreplaceable presence here with us.
Elizabeth Marie Banisch Gardner
November 4, 1924 to October 29, 2005
By Maggie Curry
One of the most striking traits of my grandmother Elizabeth to me has always been her desire to learn. She used to teach elementary school and never seemed to lose the student in herself. She was always reading books, magazines and newspapers, visiting museums or watching the History channel.
Once Grandma had taken my sister Lura and I to a museum, when I was maybe 12. We walked by paintings and I stopped at a blotchy one and said, “Why is this here – I could paint this!” She asked me if I knew the difference between that painter and myself. I said no and she replied “They painted it and got it in here and you did not.” I think of this as a small but profound moment where a point of view finds its way into the fundamental way you see yourself or the world. I am grateful for the sense of possibility her comment gave to me, and I’m grateful that years later I told her how important it was to me. She was pleased.
As a child, Grandma was slightly mysterious to me because her sarcasm went over my head. Her encouragement and kindness did not. She was very gentle when I was small. I remember hanging clothes with her in the Mississippi backyard and feeling perfectly happy as she smiled at me, and I think she felt the same. I remember playing endless board games with her. Loving attention is the best gift a child can have and she gave it in abundance. I remember Grandma braiding Lura and Amalia’s hair every day. I remember her letting us use her paints.
Painting was such a large part of her life. I admired her dedication and effort, especially during the beginning years when she felt she struggled to paint well. I again admired her dedication in the last few years as she remained determined to paint and draw despite her Parkinsons.
Some of the simple pleasures of her early childhood stayed with her for a lifetime and she spoke very lovingly of her brothers and sisters. Over the years I had the chance to hear her express different things she valued and loved in each of her children. Grandma’s close friend Caroline told me that Grandma expressed the same feelings to her.
In the last ten years I grew to love and know her from an adult perspective. In our talks I valued her candor, sense of humor, and sometimes startlingly precise observations of human nature, including her own. I was enriched by her compassionate and open minded viewpoint on almost all political discussions about different issues and people.
I enjoyed watching old black and white movies with Grandma and Grandpa, and having tea with them as they got ready for lunch. Those were the times when Grandma would often talk to me about her life, and the subjects that came up most were the days of her early childhood, the early years of her marriage to Grandpa MD, raising her children, teaching, and the natural world. Grandma often spoke with happiness about the beautiful trees, flowers and landscapes she had seen over the years. She spoke with clarity about many of her former pupils whom she fondly remembered.
The younger generation of our family brought her great joy and was often the subject of conversation including Simon, David, Michael, Dakota, Lola and Ian, Joe, Bryan and Pattie. She kept in touch with family and friends through letters and phone calls.
There are inexplicable things I will miss, like her handwriting on envelopes, or hearing her radio playing classical music, and the more common-like hugging her and sharing important events.
I will miss so much sitting with her, talking or not. There was a particular and precious comfort there that I will not find replaced.
I know she knew she was loved by us all. I loved her very much and ultimately what I miss is simply her unique and irreplaceable presence here with us.