My grandmother, Maria Szymanska, passed away on November 12th this year in her home in Warsaw, one month shy of her 103rd birthday. Anyone out there who’s seen the Honeydrops more than a few times has probably heard me tell stories about her on stage, as she has inspired many of the songs I’ve written over the years.  A survivor of nazi imprisonment and communist Poland, she also lived in China and India and later emigrated to the United States with the rest of my family in 1985. 

Growing up with her in the house was the ultimate privilege of my youth. Raising and feeding my brother and I were her only priorities, and while she could be strict and demanding she also spoiled us.  With a chuckle and a mischievous grin she loved to sneak us contraband candy and doritos when my parents weren’t looking, and she often let us off the hook from our chores.  Food was truly her love language, and it seemed there was always a homemade snack or meal waiting for us upon returning home from anywhere, any time.  She had a not so secret sweet tooth; her bedside drawer was filled with hershey kisses, and many times i wandered into the kitchen late at night for my own secret snack only to catch her alone with a bowl of rocky road ice cream.

In my earliest days I was always by her side, and in my memory we’re always walking; to and from preschool, to the beach on lake Michigan, up and down Chicago avenue, stopping at every thrift shop and grocery store along the way. Later, deep in suburban Maryland, she’d drive me to piano lessons, and helped carpool me to middle and high school. It was during this time that her wild driving style (50 on the side streets, 30 on the freeway) made her a legend among my classmates.

With many years, wars, and continents between us, understanding one another didn’t always come easily. By the time middle school rolled around she began disapproving of seemingly  all of my life choices and aspirations.  Many would have folded to her demands, but it turned out I had inherited some of her famous stubbornness and force of will.  Much to her dismay I would not be dissuaded from my pursuit of all things wild, unpredictable and loud (she was not a big fan of the trumpet).  But luckily for me, understanding is not a prerequisite for love, so she continued to feed me, perhaps even more ardently despite my disobedience.   

Though uncomfortable at the time, our constant push and pull seems now to have been the ultimate gift and proving ground.  To even call it “tough” love would be a stretch. She must’ve instinctively known the music business was not for the faint hearted, and the daily humiliations awaiting me would not be served over a bowl of borscht and a plate of homemade pierogi.   

I feel especially lucky to have seen her soften and grow more accepting over time and am grateful we got to enjoy so much time together as adults. Her continuing will to live and learn as well as her uncanny grace in old age was truly inspiring to all who met her. At age 91, she miraculously recovered from pneumonia when the doctors had all but given up on her. This inspired me to write the song “Got the Feeling” on Like You Mean It and we dedicated the album to her. After that, whenever I felt overtaken by weariness or started thinking my life was hard, she was my guiding light. If my grandmother could still be unbreakable in her 90s then I’d better get up, dust off, and get back to work.

In December of 2020, at the height of covid, she was set to celebrate her one hundredth birthday.  I couldn’t go to Poland and I was scared I would never see her again. I wrote the song “Honey and Butter” as a birthday present and an ode to her love.  On our worst days, no matter how much we disagreed, when I was sick she called a truce. So I’ll admit right here I faked sick all the time just to get a taste of that one of a kind, unconditional Grandma love,  served warm and crisp with a cup of lemon tea on the side.   

It’s hard to let her go, but she deserves to rest. Her work is done. Rest easy Babciu!  In the meantime the Honeydrops will continue to try and sweeten your world and as she did mine.