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With a slight departure from the usual editorial policy of printing almost exclusively original articles and stories on the website, I reprint this article which appeared in the Tacoma News-Tribune November 5, 2002, taken from the New York Times. I agree with the most basic premises of the research. However, I see a major departure from the findings when they are compared with our Grandmother, Nellie Bryant Burdett. Perhaps, "A son is a son until he takes a wife. A Daughter is a daughter all her life," is folklore stemming from an agreement with the findings of this research and explains why paternal grandmothers identified here are bad for their grandchildren's health...Nellie seems to have soared above such traditions and to have done very well with her sons' wives and their children. Ruth Terry Bryant and Isabell Kemp Bryant are suspected of adding evidence in support of the research discussed below. I have bolded some of the text which I find of particular interest to our great big family. Virginia

To grandmother's house may be the best place for children to go
Natalie Angier; The New York Times

Grandma, what a big and fickle metaphor you can be! For children, the name translates as "the magnificent one with presents in her suitcase who thinks I'm a genius if I put my shoes on the right feet, and who stuffs me with cookies the moment my parents' backs are turned."

In news reports, to call a woman "grandmotherly" is shorthand for "kindly, frail, harmless, keeper of the family antimacassars, and operationally past tense."

For anthropologists and ethnographers of yore, grandmothers were crones, an impediment to "real" research. The renowned ethnographer Charles William Merton Hart, who in the 1920s studied the Tiwi hunter-gatherers of Australia, described the elder females there as "a terrible nuisance" and "physically quite revolting" and in whose company he was distressed to find himself on occasion, yet whose activities did not merit recording or analyzing with anything like the attention he paid the men, the young women, even the children.

But for a growing number of evolutionary biologists and cultural anthropologists, grandmothers represent a key to understanding human prehistory, and why we are as we are - slow to grow up and start breeding but remarkably fruitful once we get there, empathetic and generous as animals go, and family-focused to a degree hardly seen elsewhere in the primate order.

As a result, biologists, evolutionary anthropologists, sociologists and demographers are starting to pay more attention to grandmothers: What they did in the past, whether and how they made a difference to their families' welfare, and what they are up to now in a sampling of cultures around the world.

At a recent international conference - the first devoted to grandmothers - researchers concluded with something approaching a consensus that grandmothers in particular, and elder female kin in general, have been an underrated source of power and sway in our evolutionary heritage. Grandmothers, they said, are in a distinctive evolutionary category. They are no longer reproductively active themselves, as older males may struggle to be, but they often have many hale years ahead of them; and as the existence of substantial proportions of older adults among even the most "primitive" cultures indicates, such durability is not new.

If, over the span of human evolution, postmenopausal women have not been using their stalwart bodies for bearing babies, they very likely have been directing their considerable energies elsewhere.

Say, over the river and through the woods. It turns out that there is a reason why children are perpetually yearning for the flour-dusted, mythical figure called grandma or granny or oma or abuelita. As a number of participants at the conference demonstrated, the presence or absence of a grandmother often spelled the difference in traditional subsistence cultures between life or death for the grandchildren. In fact, having a grandmother around sometimes improved a child's prospects to a far greater extent than did the presence of a father.

Dr. Ruth Mace and Dr. Rebecca Sear of the department of anthropology at University College in London, for example, analyzed demographic information from rural Gambia that was collected from 1950 to 1974, when child mortality rates in the area were so high that even minor discrepancies in care could be all too readily tallied. The anthropologists found that for Gambian toddlers, weaned from the protective balm of breast milk but not yet possessing strength and immune vigor of their own, the presence of a grandmother cut their chances of dying in half.

"The surprising result to us was that if the father was alive or dead didn't matter," Mace said in a telephone interview. "If the grandmother dies, you notice it; if the father does, you don't."

Importantly, this beneficent granny effect derived only from maternal grandmothers - the mother of one's mother. The paternal grandmothers made no difference to a child's outcome.

Indeed, a number of researchers at the conference admitted to being flummoxed by the nature of grandma's goodness.

"This was a constant refrain: What is the mechanism?" said Dr. Patricia Draper, a professor of anthropology at the University of Nebraska. "We can see that grandmothers are doing something, but what? What buttons are they pushing that end up making the difference to their families?"

Perhaps, she suggested, they exerted as much of a psychological as a practical effect - for example, by encouraging family cohesion or stifling extreme sibling rivalry.

In two studies, the divergent effects of the two grandmother species is so pronounced that the son's mother appears not merely a neutral influence on her grandchildren, but a negative one.

Dr. Cheryl Jamison, an anthropologist at Indiana University in Bloomington, and her colleagues combed through an exceptionally complete population register from a village in central Japan. The records covered a period from 1671 to 1871, when officials sought to battle the encroachment of Christianity and thus kept track of everybody's birth, death and whereabouts, the better to interrogate citizens each year on their religious allegiance. As in the Gambian study, the overall mortality rate for children was substantial, with 27.5 children dying by age 16.

Jamison and her co-workers determined that when a maternal grandmother lived in the household, boys were 52 percent less likely to die in childhood than if there was no grandmother present. Conversely, when the father's mother lived in the house, boys were 62 percent more likely to die than were those without a resident grandma. For girls, no statistically significant benefit or decrement could be seen from grandmothers of either bloodline.

Jamison cautioned that not too much could be made of the results, for, in a patrilineal culture like that of premodern Japan, where sons were the ones who took in their aging parents, the sample size for maternal grandmothers living with their grandchildren was extremely small. Nevertheless, she said, she was startled by her results.

"One would think that boys would be preferred by everybody, but apparently that isn't what happened here," she said.

Why boys should be helped or harmed to a comparatively greater extent than are female children in this sample could not be gleaned from the population registry data, Jamison said.

Researchers with a Darwinian bent propose that the discrepant effects of maternal versus paternal grandparents is a result of the old evolutionary bugaboo, paternity uncertainty. Maternal grandmothers, they reason, are confident that the grandchildren in question are their blood relations, and hence worth working for, whereas the mother of a son, ever unsure of her daughter-in-law's fidelity, may withhold her love and care, albeit unconsciously, from the young bairns before her.

Kohli said a new French study of contemporary grandparenthood had found, among other things, that paternal grandparents often wanted to do more for their grandchildren, but felt they were not as welcome to visit as were the maternal grandparents.