Courtesy of the author
Daisy Ridley is better known as Rey in Star Wars — the sensitive Jedi whose attitude is nonetheless badass.
My paternal grandmother, who died at 91, became Daisy Ridley — her maiden name was Duck of all things — in 1932 when she married my grandfather, Robert. She was born nearly 80 years before the actor, now 31. My sister, Alison, and I affectionately called her "Nanny." She had a similar personality to Rey.
And, just as the Star Wars character inspired women and girls to be strong, Nanny was our role model. Alison said that she thinks of her every day. Me too.
It was why my husband and I picked the name Daisy for our daughter in 2008. Now a teen, she embodies Nanny's spirit in regard to confidence.
I hope she inherits her wisdom. Nanny taught us life lessons during the precious years we spent together. Here are three that I'm especially glad she passed down.
Nanny was a born saleswoman. She liked nothing better than the sense of accomplishment when she sold an expensive wig or a pair of leather gloves in the upscale department store where she worked.
She lied about her age when she was hired. She didn't want to have to leave at 60 — the retirement age for women in the UK back then. She extended her time at the store by several years.
"I'll do it for nothing," she told me once. Sure enough, she volunteered at a charity thrift store next. She sold secondhand clothing and unpacked boxes in the storeroom for more than 25 years.
Meanwhile, she steered both my dad and me into journalism. She championed our curiosity for other people. We both love what I do.
My grandmother was ahead of her time in terms of recycling. She lived through World War I and II when rationing and "make do and mend" were the norms.
She did the same during peacetime, even reusing teabags. She never tore wrapping paper and saved it for the upcoming Christmases!
Another quirk was drinking the water in which she boiled vegetables. "It's full of vitamins," she'd say. My sister does it to this day.
My parents always snip coupons. Like her, they'll build a meal around produce reduced at the store.
As for me, I use iron-on patches to get more life out of my jeans. I donate and receive items through "Buy Nothing" Facebook groups. Last year, a generous stranger gifted our family a piano. I funnel toys to a school that teaches migrant kids. Nanny would be proud.
Courtesy of the author
Nanny had a large circle of friends from most generations. Her best friend was a neighbor, Linda. Linda was more than half her age. They'd laugh together like teenagers.
Alison went on vacation with Nanny several times despite their 51-year age difference. Once, they attended a toga party at a hotel in Scotland. Nanny wore a white sheet — and looked fantastic. Younger men asked her to dance.
She spent time with her peers at her senior living facility but felt comfortable with "the youth," as she called them. They kept her up to date on everything from rap to transgenderism.
Her 2004 funeral was well attended. The mourners included the children she babysat in her 70s. Adults, by then, shared memories of bedtime stories and sneaked-in candy.
My sister and I learned from Nanny that friendship has no upper or lower limits in terms of age. My godfather, Don, 84, is a trusted — and hilarious — confidant. My kids' au pair, Standa, 28 years my junior, has become a close companion.
Standa and I were out for lunch the other day. He told me about the skincare brand The Ordinary. He said it's popular with "the youth." I placed an order.
