A Ripple of Love Through Time

My Grandma’s Story—From my Mother to my Father, and the Truth He Discovered

I was only five or six years old when I last saw my maternal grandmother. I have only the faintest memories of her, but remember traveling to her house in Herndon, Virginia with my parents and, at that time, two younger siblings. I also remember playing with some of my cousins at her house, and one cousin in particular who was a little wild and rough. We were horsing around on the swing set in the small backyard when he decided to test the law of gravity. He swung higher and higher, the wobbly frame heaving to and fro, until he fell off—or the swing broke, I can’t remember—and hit the ground so hard he broke his arm. For a youngster like me, it makes sense that an event like this might still be lodged in my memory bank.

But while I have only faint memories of my grandma, I know from my mother that the two of them were very close. My mom was the only girl in a family of five boys, so she always felt she had a special connection to her mother. And that’s why it was so hard on my mom when she learned that her soul mate had colon cancer.

In the spring of 1970, my grandma went to the doctor because she had blood in her stools and was experiencing pain. I’m not sure why, but she didn’t share with the family that she had these symptoms or had even gone to see the doctor. These were the classic symptoms of colon cancer and her doctor knew this, but my grandma didn’t have health insurance, so he said nothing about this and ran no further tests, instead telling her to go to her local pharmacy to get some Ex Lax to alleviate some of the symptoms. (The administrator of the hospital that employed him later apologized for their malfeasance.)

My mom’s family had very little money, not because there was no money coming in. Her father had a job running a bulldozer and made a decent income, but the money he earned went out the door as fast as it came in. He spent money freely, especially to support his gambling habit. This left my grandma in a difficult position because she carried the primary responsibility for raising their family of six kids. She also struggled with shyness and rarely left her house.

Despite all these challenges, my grandma maintained her innate compassionate outlook. She was an extremely caring person, who loved her children deeply. She had a profound impact on all of them, who mostly went on to live happy and fulfilled lives despite the challenging circumstances of their youth.

I also would argue that the discoveries my father made may not have happened to the same degree had it not been for my grandma, because that’s how love works—it’s the most powerful force in the universe. My parents formed a deep partnership over the years, to the point that their personal boundaries seemed at some point to have withered away, leaving them the same person, or very close to it. Being a witness to this, I can say without any doubt that my father would not have accomplished what he did had he not met my mom. And because my grandma had such a great influence on my mom, I can easily draw a line back to my grandma and say that her life mattered not only because of her impact on her own family, but because of its rippling effect through the life my mom and dad lived together.

It’s important to acknowledge the worth of her life, which was cut short by the cancer. By the Fall, my grandma’s symptoms had gotten much worse. Finally, by the holidays, she could no longer hide what she was feeling. That winter, she felt so ill that she went to the hospital emergency room, and based on her condition, they finally had to admit her. She ended up staying there until she passed, at the age of only 51. It was an awful experience for her because untreated colon cancer ends up being very painful. This was hard for my mom to see, and to this day she has difficulty sharing what happened.

Those days in the hospital also deeply impacted my father. My grandma had just started overcoming her shyness and was making a strong connection with him. He loved her as he did his own mother, and he spent days in the hospital with her and my mom. While there, he went deeper into the connection of nutrition to cancer, reading papers and books to pass the time. His interest in this possible connection had already grown by that time, which was reinforced by the fact that my grandma had eaten an unhealthy diet and was suffering intensely before his eyes.

After my grandma passed, my parents returned to their lives in Blacksburg, Virginia. For my father, this meant getting back to his research, but with a newfound passion for his work. It was then that he threw himself into the mission of understanding the cause of cancer, which he suspected might be related to nutrition.

In the next newsletter, I’ll share more about my father’s early research career and how that research laid the groundwork for his famous China study.

Until next time,

Nelson

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The Humble Chickpea: A Little Bean with Big Possibilities, by Kim Campbell

I always tell people to keep at least a few cans of chickpeas in the kitchen, because they can become almost anything you need: a quick sandwich filling, a creamy hummus dip, a salad topper, bases for soups, or even a crispy snack that you can roast in your oven. They meld beautifully to whatever flavor profile you ask of them, citrusy, savory, or spicy. Their texture allows them to be smashed, whipped, roasted, or folded into salads with ease. They offer structure, creaminess, protein, and comfort all at once. Today’s Chickpea Cranberry Salad is one of my favorite ways to use them—bright, tangy, colorful, and perfect for lunches all week.

Here is your recipe for Chickpea Cranberry Salad:

https://plantpurecommunities.org/burgers-sandwiches-and-wraps/chickpea-cranberry-salad/