Sharon's Blog

(Note: The first picture I’ve included was taken a few months before she died. The one of her in the red dress was taken when my first child, Tammy, was a tiny baby. Okay, so Tammy wasn’t “tiny” but she was a cute baby.)

The other day, as I frequently do, I mentioned Grandma Brophey to John. He said I should write down my thoughts about her. She was the most influential person in my life. Someday I’ll be gone and no one will remember she even existed. She was special.

Grandma Brophey was about 77 years old when she died in 1963. Her full name was Clara Ann Chamberlain Brophey. Those 77 years represented a life that was remarkable.

She was my father’s step-grandmother (so not related “by blood” but by heart.) When my father was three, he came to live with Grandma and Grandpa Brophey who raised him as their son. They were quite well-to-do in the early 1920′s. They had a dry cleaning business and owned the biggest share of a city block in downtown Midland plus a couple of houses. Until I was six, they lived at 405 McDonald Street in Midland.

Grandpa had the first car in Midland county.

There’s the story of how, Grandpa was approached by an eccentric young guy. This was the early 1890′s. The fellow had just started a up a business in 1889 which didn’t look too promising. Grandpa, was doing very well. The young man asked if Grandpa would like to go in on the new business for a $1,000 investment. Grandpa said, “No.” But the fellow wasn’t to be deterred. He said, “Mr. Brophey, how about $500 and we’ll be in business together 50/50.” My grandfather said “No, Mr. Dow, I’m not interested.” That was Herbert Dow. The business he’d started in 1889 was the Dow Chemical Company.

But the stock market crash of 1929 changed everything. Grandma and Grandpa lost their businesses and houses – most everything. It didn’t help that Grandpa Brophey was a heavy drinker and that took over his life. From then on, Grandma supported the family by doing sewing alterations.

She would sew late into the night for the wealthy ladies in town. Once they’d been her peers (financially) but she’d lost all that. Nevertheless she had pride and was definitely “a quality lady.”

As a child I realized how special she was. It was the little things she did. Most everyone who knew her called her “Grandma.” She was the kind of caring person who listened to a child, and spoke words of wisdom worth the attention of the most mature.

Her stories of previous generations were mesmerizing. I grew up hearing of how her grandfather walked to Saginaw every Sunday so he could preach to the Indians. Of encounters with bears. I knew about the settling of the Saginaw Valley by her ancestors. She could tell stories which were better than any of those in books.

In the 1950′s she was “adopted” by an oriental couple so their children would have a grandmother in their new country. She took in unwed mothers and let them stay with her at a time when they were shunned. In those days, Midland, MI, was 99.999% white. Grandma would baby-sit for the only black couple which moved into town. (No one else would sit for them (and she convinced me to fill in for her when she was unavailable.)) She was very involved with the Presbyterian Church: She made their choir robes, was a Sunday school teacher, mailed “birthday cards” to all children under five with parents who belonged to the church. She started a re-sale shop at a senior citizen residence facility which is still on-going (the Kings’ Daughters).

Until I was a teenager, she made all of my clothes (and as a child, I had a complete wardrobe for my dolls long before a Barbie wardrobe was a requirement for a young girl). I was the best dressed youngster you can imagine. As an example, I remember a lined soft blue wool suit, lovely lined cape to match, and a navy tam to complete the outfit. (I was maybe three.) I remember being asked to “turn around” so the classy ladies of the church could approve of my whole ensemble. She was a woman to be proud of and she was so proud of me. (I wish I’d lived up to her expectations.)

After the WWII, the rented house she and Grandpa lived in was sold and Mom and Dad bought a larger house on Swede Road so we could all move in together. She and Grandpa lived with us from the time I was six (1948) until I was twelve (1954). My brother was born in 1949. Grandma’s sister lived with us about half the time. Grandma and I shared a small bedroom.

When she and my grandfather again got their own place (about 1954), her sister (Aunt Ada) moved in with them. Their home was about a mile and a half from downtown Midland (on Pine Street) which was about three miles from where we lived on Swede. Grandma would walk back and forth to town, despite the season, carrying her groceries because she never had a car at her disposal. I was there a great deal of the time.

As limited as her cash was, she always took food to neighbors and she was always charitable and giving.

I don’t know how she did it, but she’d take me to Detroit once a year and we’d stay in the Tuller Hotel on Grand Circus Park so I could see and experience the “big city.” That was always the highlight of my year. She’d bake lovely big sweet rolls (with fresh orange zest) which she’d pass out to the house-cleaning people at the hotel in lieu of a tip. I remember struggling to carry the suitcase from the “bus station” to the Tuller. It probably wasn’t far, but it sure seemed like we walked forever and paying for a taxi was out of the question. While in Detroit, we’d go to Bob-Lo Island and visit the Vernors plant. I got to explore Hudson’s glorious shopping mecca, and we’d dine at the Bonjo Grill.

One Mother’s Day she was named “Mother of the Year” by the Midland Daily News. Yet this was a woman, who’d never given birth.

She was a caring, loving lady; a beautiful white-haired fashion plate, who knew style and was ahead of her time.

She loved me more than anyone in my life and was always there for me to praise when I deserved it, or to show disapproval when I let her down. I remember the time she cried after scolding me. I was two or three and I’d spit toward another child. She took a minor swat at my rear end and then we both cried.

She endured a lot healthwise. There was the summer of 1956 when she found a lump in her breast. After her surgery, I took care of her and watched her bravely work to recover her strength after her mastectomy.

My grandfather died in early 1961.

Grandma had a heart attack in late 1961 and the cancer returned in 1962.

Grandma passed away in 1963.

She shaped my life and my character. She taught me to sew and crochet and because of her, I learned to tat. I still miss her and I still need her approval.