I had the incredible privilege of knowing Nancy Alexander Bredemeier (1943-2025) for 32 years. This was a small piece of her 82 years; she was a wife for fifty-seven and a mother for fifty-nine. Friend to some in her hometown of Plainfield, IN for longer than that. But I was the first grandchild and it was I who called her Nana first, which everyone in my family adopted afterwards. So, you know, the important things.
My family always liked to say I was the favorite grandchild, which is both a cruel burden to put on a mere child like me and simply not true. Nana did not have favorites and loved her grand children equally. I think she had many defining traits, some that might be stronger to others who knew her differently. She loved politics, British shows, and the Hoosier state, to name a few. But what is strongest to me is her deep and abiding love of family.
This is true of many I am sure, and almost seems trite to say. “She loved her family more than anything” is something one hears a lot. All I can say it was true for her and so true that I think she made it true for that very family. This is something she shared with her departed husband Dave who we lost in 2021. I think their legacy is that they created and led a family that endures beyond them, sharing a love and legacy that is just as important to their kids, grandkids, and those picked up along the way. She was the matriarch of the Bredemeier family, with all connotations that comes with. She did everything she could to make our family feel together and want to be together. As a small tangible example, my grandparents rebuilt their house in 2002. It is a beautiful home built in a Craftsman style that was timelessly done, but its defining feature to me is that it feels primarily built for US not for them. Built for the family moments; ready for the planned and unplanned. Any chance they got. It was built to be the hub and home of the family. This occured most often at the New Years celebration of Bredemeier Christmas, but Nana lept at any chance to have her family near, even it meant spending 80% of her time in a large two-story, four bedroom home, with a table that could expand (and did!) to seat 12. In the final years of her life, her pulmonary issues made it difficult for her to truly host. But damn (sorry nana) did she still try. Her illness made it so that it was literally difficult to breathe if she did too much and did not rest. But I think I speak for many when I say she willed herself to be present and be in and with family, to the breaking point at times. Such was her love for us and desire that we be together. I wrote in Part 1, which I needed to write but I genuinely hope you don’t read, about my shame in being a drag on family. I think she at times felt this. She pushed herself beyond limits and sacrificed herself for our family. I am me because SHE passed that love of family on. I know if you ask Nancy I, Angie, Steve, Henry, Ethan, Erin, or Pam, they would all say and feel the same. And I hope that Chuck, Meg, Kate, and Mark all in their various shorter times came to feel this just as truly. I KNOW that nothing made her happier in her 70s and 80s than that she got to add more to her family than she lost.
L-R Meg, Ethan, Nana, Henry, Kate, Chuck
Missing: the wife and great-grand children I was obligated to find as the oldest, yet failed to provide my Nana. Like I said, definitely not favorite grandchild.
That’s the broad legacy. A smaller legacy/memory I want to talk about is how our Nana was “musical” This one is more personal; I do not know how many others would think of her this way. She did not write music, she did not perform concerts nor attend an abundance of them. She played piano, but far from every day. Yet when I think of Nana, and I think “musical” in two ways. I think of her player piano and I think of her love of movie musicals. Her player piano was an Alexander-family heirloom from her mother. It always was an object of fascination for me. With rolls of paper in these funny skinny boxes placed in this opening in the piano, songs would play! The paper (really the piano) would play the keys! I could say she loved the player piano, but in truth what I know she loved is that her grandkids loved the player piano. It allowed her to entertain her grandkids while also imparting a piece of her family and family history to the next generation. When I say she was “musical,” I am really repeating the love of family point; she was imparting music on her family.
That stuck in various ways. I, to my sincere great sadness, cannot play the piano. I can plunk out my favorite hymn, “Joyful, Joyful, We adore Thee” (E-E-F-G-G-F-E-D-Middle C-D-C-D-E-E-D-C) but that is literally, it. This is part of why I cannot be the favorite grandchild; I have no musical talent or drive. Ethan and Erin can or at least various times play the piano very capably. Ethan found a genuine love of it (he gets it from both sides of the family, which helps); Erin was potentially the better natural talent (she is good at everything she tries and has very long piano-playing fingers) but I don’t think found the love in playing, though loves a musical husband. They got the piano part; Henry and I got the “musical theater” love. Unfortunately, again, I did not get the “ability” part, though Henry fortunately did. Henry can and has acted in front of a live theatre audience. Could not keep him off the stage, with a Nana-quilted tee shirt blanket of show shirts as proof. Alas, my career began and ended with an incredibly background role in “A Midsummer’s Nights Dream” in high school. But I wanted to be there, a place I did not belong, because I do love musicals.
This can be traced back to Nana showing me my favorite movie: Singing in the Rain. You may not believe me, but I have loved this movie literally before I could walk. Sure, did I understand how the movie artfully showed the transition from silent pictures to talkies? No. But have you seen Donald O’Connor fight a dummy? Make em’ laugh? That a three year old knows how to do. (Yes, it took me a while to walk. Why walk if your mom will carry you?)
Not everything you do at age three do you do at thirty, but Nana and I could always talk old movies. Musicals were a favorite but only solely. She was a TCM devotee and always a resource for recommendations. She had 5 cent movies as a kid; I had streaming services; we met in the middle. “Shop Around the Corner” and “My Fair Lady” were memorable ones we bonded over in the 2020s. Other shared favorites included Sound of Music, Annie Get Your Gun (the play/songs more than a film), An American in Paris, Wizard of Oz, West Side Story, and Guys and Dolls. Over Christmas break 2024, our last together, Nana, Mom, and I cried together over Its a Wonderful Life. I loved texting her about a new old movie I had seen. Those times in the last year are when I miss her the most; when I want to text her and find out if she likes A Lion in Winter as much as I do.
That’s my little piece on Nancy. There is a lot more I could say—I could write on her love for Purdue, Agatha Christie, and birds—and perhaps I will at a later time. I miss her terribly for these and countless more reasons, but I also continue to feel her love and presence when I hear a piano play or watch a golden age musical or when the broader Bredemeier Bunch contributes to the shared and revitalized twelve-strong family group chat.
When the dog bites, when the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad
-Julie Andrews, Sound of Music, 1965
