A Hardworking Grandma

 

I ‘ve told you many stories about the history of my family, partly because of Mama’s book — there are lots of stories to tell.  But, I guess, the main reason is mostly because  it is my family! 

But there are also some great stories I’d like to tell about Hubby’s family.  And today I’m remembering his Grandma Martha.

   This is a picture of Hubby’s grandparents, Martin and Martha, with their young family around 1912.  Hubby’s dad, Arthur, is the baby (here is a post I wrote last year about his life).

Of course, they are all dressed in their Sunday best, because I’m sure it was a big event when they had a formal picture taken.  But, don’t be fooled into thinking these were people of leisure.  They were hardworking farmers who worked from sun up to sundown to farm their land and raise their family.

And here is a favorite family story about Grandma Martha that shows that she had already developed her hardworking ways as a young girl. 

This story happened one year at harvest time when Martha was a very young teen. 

If I understand correctly, this is the way they picked the corn.  Each worker strapped a tool, something like the ones pictured below, to the palm of one hand.  In essence, it was a knife that you didn’t have to keep picking up or worry about dropping.

Then they walked down the line of corn stalks in teams of two, with each working the stalks on their side, removing each ear by using this tool to cut back the dry husks and silks (to minimize the contact their bare hands had with the sharp husks) so that they could then grip the ear of corn with the other hand and snap it off the stalk. 

I know there were wagons to put the corn in, but I can’t invision where they would have been, without knocking down the corn, so I’m picturing that maybe each worker wore some sort of bag that they would take to a wagon at the edge of the field and dump when it was full. 

Four workers were hired to help do the picking.  But, one day during the harvest one of the workers didn’t show up and Martha volunteered to fill in.  This wasn’t a job that girls and women normally did. 

I’m guessing that the three “pros” (strong young men who made good money during this time of year, hiring out to whatever neighbor needed help with his harvest) were all hoping they wouldn’t have to team up with the girl, but someone had to and it ended up being a young neighbor, Jim. 

Then the other two young men, suddenly enjoying what they saw as their friend’s disadvantage for having to be teamed with a very young girl, suggested a contest.  The two teams would start picking at opposite ends of the field, and they would see who could get to the middle first.  Jim agreed, but I imagine without much expectation of winning.

But, I’m sure you can guess what happened … Martha and Jim won!   And for the rest of their lives (they always lived in the same area, so knew lots of people in common) Jim loved to tell people the story about Martha and him beating those other two.  And he would always elaborate on how strong and fast Martha was and how hard she worked.  My guess is, that all three of those guys learned that day, “Don’t bet against Martha!”

When Hubby’s parents, Art and Vera, married, it was agreed that Art would begin purchasing the farm and he and Vera would live in the big family farmhouse with Martin and Martha.  I don’t know if there was ever any discussion about Martin and Martha moving to a smaller house in town, as Martin’s parents had done when Martin and Martha married and purchased the farm from them, but, for whatever reason, it never happened.  Both Martin and Martha lived out their lives sharing a home with their son, daughter-in-law and their children.  And, by the way, several generations living in the same house wasn’t at all unusual back then.

Actually, Grandpa Martin only lived long enough to know two of Art and Vera’s children, Hubby and his older sister.  The story goes that Martha and Martin were hosting a family get-together and there was a spirited Euchre game going on around the kitchen table (a favorite card game in this area).  Someone had just said something funny and Martin threw back his head and laughed, tipping his chair back on its back legs, but then he and the chair just continued to fall back.  He was dead from a heart attack before he hit the floor.  Hubby was 9 months old at the time.

But, Grandma Martha lived 16 years longer.  In fact, when I started dating Hubby, she was still alive.  I only remember meeting her a couple times.  What I remember most about her is that she called everyone by their given name — she called me Sandra, even though everyone else at that time called me Sandy.

   This is the only other picture of Grandma Martha I could find.  I would guess this was when she was in her 40’s. 

Apparently Grandma Martha’s demeanor was always one of  hard work and perpeteual motion, going from one task to the next, without any down time.  My mother-in-law, Vera, a wonderful person who I’m sure would never have said this to Grandma, did tell me one time that there were times during the many years she lived with her hardworking mother-in-law, when she would have liked to just be able to sit down for a little while.  But, she said she never felt like she could do that when Grandma herself never “just sat down”!  No matter how wonderful her mother-in-law was, I’m sure there were times when Hubby’s mom, and I’m guessing Grandma too, wished she didn’t have to share a house with another woman.  But, overall, they had a good relationship.  

I’m told that when everyone sat down in the evening to relax, even then, Grandma liked to sit in a straight-back chair at the end of the sofa with her sewing basket and a stack of clothes that needed to be mended next to her so that she could do mending!  But, and this is a very big but, Hubby says he remembers that any time he or one of his siblings would take a book to her and ask her to read to them, she would stop what she was doing, and read.

Hubby says it wasn’t always fun to have a third adult supervising you, especially when you were a high-energy little boy, but he now looks back fondly on their live-in grandma who, even though a hard worker, still always had time for her grandchildren, and he recognizes the ways she added to all their lives, not the least of which was as an example of the value of hard work!

Thankful for Family Time

 

Two weekends ago we visited Gunny and his family for a very busy long weekend.  Our goals while we were there were — to see Nikki cheer at a varsity football game — to celebrate her 16th birthday — to attend her and Jays’ confirmation — to see Jay play on the freshman football team — and to squeeze in some visiting time whereever we could.   And we managed to do it all!

On Friday night:

  Because of the confirmation we didn’t have any flexibility in which weekend we visited, so if we wanted to see Nikki cheer we would have to drive to a game on Friday night two and a half hours away!  But when you live as far away as we do, you have to take opportunities as they present themselves, so we made the trip and were glad we did.

  It was an exciting game that our team won in the last few minutes.

 

  Nikki with a close friend who is also a cheerleader.

   It was realllly cold and I hadn’t thought to take gloves, so Dilly was kind enough to lend me one of hers.  Not a perfect, solution but at least it helped!  (It’s hard to see, but we had our gloved hands clasped together in the middle.)

On Saturday:

   We celebrated Nikki’s 16th birthday!

   We couldn’t decide on what kind of cake to buy at the fantastic local bakery, so we bought two small ones — one lemon and one red velvet.

   But, as her special birthday “cake” Nikki opted for a slice of strawberry cheesecake, and then we bought this humongus candle to go on top that was about the same size as the slice it was sitting on!

   I wanted to get a nice family picture of them.  But, Jay was goofing off a little.

   So, he and Gunny “discussed” how he should pose for the picture …

   … ahhh, much better.

   I love this picture.  Nikki knows how to smile for a picture, but Jay does have trouble deciding how he should pose.  So I like this one because he just looks like him – no pose at all!

   I don’t know.  Do you think you can tell they’re related? I kind of think so.

   And these two look a little alike too.

On Sunday morning:

   Nikki and Jay were confirmed into the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod.  They each had to ask someone to stand with them at the front and read their confirmation bible verse, and they asked Hubby and me.  Hubby for Jay and me for Nikki.  We were very honored that they asked us.

On Monday night:  We enjoyed watching Jay’s freshman football team win their game.  Thankfully, it wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been for the varsity game on Friday night!  But, unfortunately I forgot my camera, so you’ll just have to take my word for it that he was very cute (in a “manly” sort of way, of course) in his uniform and played well.

Early Tuesday morning:

   Gunny met us for breakfast before we left town.  We had to wait a few minutes for the doors of the restaurant to open at 6 a.m.!

Thank you Father for the wonderful time we got to spend with our loved ones.

Like Patting Your Head and Rubbing Your Tummy …

 

… it’s very hard to laugh and be mad at the same time.

The very funny husband of one of my nieces in Atlanta told me this story from their early days of marriage.  Somehow it made it even funnier that he was telling it in his pronounced southern drawl.

They had just been married a short time. 

He went out for an evening with a couple friends, but said he would be home by midnight.

He lost track of time and suddenly realized it was 1:30 a.m.!  Rats.  She was going to be mad.  But wait, maybe she was asleep and wouldn’t even notice what time he got home! 

But, on the other hand, if she was waiting up for him, she would be really worried.  (This was before cell phones, so she couldn’t call him even if she was awake and worried about where he was.)

He decided he had to take the chance of waking her up.  He called.

But, when she answered the phone, before she could even say hello, he said in an excited voice (and, of course, in his cute southern drawl),

“DON’T PAY THE RANSOM, HONEY!  I ESCAPED!”

They’ve been married a long time now, and I’m betting that “excuse” only worked once, but knowing them both, I’m sure they’ve had lots of other laughs along the way. 

Laughter is an invaluable ingredient in a marriage.

Can’t-See-Your-Hand-In-Front-Of-Your-Face Dark

 

When Mama was a teenager their family lived on a farm outside Leavenworth, Kansas, not too far from the federal prison.  And after they moved there, they found out that movies were shown at the prison one night a week for the townspeople as well as the prisoners! 

Now,  it is hard for me to imagine wanting to see a movie badly enough to go to a prison to see it, with the prisoners sitting on one side of the auditorium and the townspeople on the other.  But, this was back in the 1920’s when movies were really new, and Mama and her sister and brother who were also teenagers, were willing to go anywhere to see the marvel of moving pictures.  And they were free — the only way they could have seen them. 

So, the three of them would walk a couple miles on country roads to get to the prison, which wasn’t a problem when they were going to the prison because it was still daylight (and they were used to walking long distances to school and, well, just about anywhere they wanted to go). 

But, she would always tell the story about one time when they walked home and it was overcast … absolutely NO moonlight.  Usually there was at least a little moonlight for them to see by, but this time, it was pitch, can’t-see-your-hand-in-front-of-your-face black.  They held hands so that they would stay together, and then cautiously picked their way home.  As you can imagine, they were unbelieveably happy when they finally saw the light from their house up ahead! 

When Mama would tell this story, she always said  that it was one of the scariest experiences of her life.

What reminded me of this story is that yesterday morning at about six o’clock our electricity went out.  And, because we are still on Daylight Savings Time (don’t get this early riser started on that !), it was still dark out … one of those pitch black nights as Mama had described.  And, until we turned a flashlight on, it was amazing how hard it was to walk anywhere in our own very-familiar house when there was a total absence of light.  So, we did what retired people have the luxury of doing … we went back to bed, and used the lights coming back on, over an hour later, as an alarm clock to tell us it was time to get up again!

But later it amazed me when I thought about how really black it had been yesterday morning, and I wondered why it seemed so especially black, when, after all, I walk through the house sometimes at night when there are no lights on, and naturally some of those nights must be of the pitch black variety, so why was yesterday different? 

When I got up this morning, I suddenly realized the answer.  Yesterday morning had been a perfect storm created by the convergence of an overcast, pitch black night with a loss of electricity.

This morning even “in the dark”, I could see to get around because our bedside clock is illuminated, as well as the one on the front of the TV in the cupboard across the room.  When I walked into the living room, I noticed the illuminated clock on the front of that TV.  And when I looked into the dark kitchen, I could see the clocks on the fronts of the microwave, the oven and the TV.  Aha!  Dawned the realization that our electric clocks are inadvertent nightlights! 

So, now I know that even when it is a can’t-see-your-hand-in-front-of-your-face night, as long as we have electricity, we have volunteer “nightlights” all over the house that give us a little walking-around light.

Mama Remembered: Holes in the toes of my shoes

 

 An excerpt from Mama’s book I Remember:

Did you ever try to walk without putting your feet out in front of you?  Well I remember one time I did.

When I was 12 years old we were moving from northern Missouri to a farm near Lansing, Kansas and had stopped in Kansas City to visit relatives.  I wanted to go out to our old neighborhood where we lived before we move to northern Missouri, so Dad took me out to 13th and Quindaro to visit.

I was walking down the street with a girl who used to live next door to us.  All at once I became very conscious of her good clothes and the holes in the toes of my shoes.  I was terribly embarrassed and left as soon as I could.

Mama told me that the main reason she quit school after 8th grade (about the time of this story) was that she was embarrassed by her clothes and shoes.  

Because of that story, I am especially touched when I recall the following story about my older sisters which I heard many times, even though it isn’t included in her book.

  Betty Rose, Martha Lou and Jean Marie

They don’t look like washing dishes is their favorite thing to do, do they?  But, the dresses they are wearing are the real reason I’m showing you this picture.

When my three older sisters were in grade school, at the beginning of each school year Mama would make each of them five dresses, sometimes  out of printed feed sacks! (What a great idea by the feed sack manufacturers to put feed in sacks made of material that could be reused.  Let’s not ever kid ourselves that “recycling” is a recent idea!)  And she said she made a pair of underpants (she called them underpants but I picture them more like bloomers) to match each dress, with a little pocket on the side so that a hanky could be kept in it. 

It was important to Mama for her girls to have new dresses for the start of school, but there was no way she and Daddy could afford all those dresses.  So she lovingly made each of her daughters five dresses, with matching underpants, sometimes out of ”recycled” feed sacks.

Mama and Daddy didn’t always have alot of money, especially when my older siblings were little, but they worked very hard to keep their children from feeling poor.  

Their circumstances were much better by the time I came along, so I never wore shoes with holes in the toes.  But, even when the others were little and times were hard, I know Mama would have done everything she could to made sure they didn’t either.

The Hired Help …

 

oops.  I mean the retired help!

Remember this cabinet?

I wrote about its evolution from TV cabinet, to scrapbooking cabinet, to sewing cabinet  here.

But, I never mentioned one very important part of the story about that cabinet.

   How it got to this guest bedroom . . .

  at the end of this not-terribly-wide hallway . . .

    up this not-terribly-wide stairway . . .

   while first maneuvering around the tight turn at the landing (yes, I did removed the candles to give them the maximum wiggle room).

  At least they didn’t have to carry it through the house from Hubby’s workshop.  They took it outside and brought it in the front door, right at the bottom of the steps.

So, who were the “they” who did this monumental task for me?  That would be the “retired help” (not to be confused with “hired help” because that would indicate some form of payment for their services!).  “They” were Hubby’s two brothers … also in their sixties.

This is the sort of job that people our age would usually ask their grown sons or sons-in-law to help with, but unfortunately we don’t have any of those who live anywhere close, so Hubby asked his two brothers if they would come over and help him carry it upstairs.  And, let me just tell you their dad, Art, raised three boys who seldom say “I can’t do that”.  They are “get it done” kind of guys, even as they have aged and have a few more aches and pains.

So, the three brothers wrestled the cabinet up the steps and down the hall to its current “home” in the guest bedroom.  And, I am eternally grateful to them.  I love it.

By the way, as they started up the stairs, brother Denny said, “This makes me wish Art had had more sons!”

To which brother Keith replied as he lifted his end of the really heavy cabinet, “Well, it makes me wish Art had had younger sons!”

Thanks, guys … for doing the heavy lifting for me, and also for making me laugh!

Are you lookin’ at ME?

 

Have I mentioned I was raised a “city girl”?  I think the fact that, by the time I came along, my family didn’t have a garden and bought all of our food at the grocery store was a direct result of  Mama’s childhood memories of usually only being able to afford food they raised themselves.  Consequently, she reveled in finally being able to afford already-canned vegetables, and already cut up meat like roasts, chops, pieces of chicken and ground meat that were purchased at the grocery.

So, the beginning of my education in the reality of the food chain came when I began dating Hubby-to-be, the farm boy.

After we had dated for a while, we started going to church together.  We would attend my Baptist church with my parents on one Sunday and his Lutheran church with his parents the next Sunday (we were equal-opportunity worshippers!). 

When we attended church with my family we would go back to our house for dinner, which was usually Mama’s wonderful pot roast that had been slowly cooking while we were at church.  I will forever remember the experience of walking into the house after church with the smell of that wonderful roast greeting us at the door.

And on the Sunday’s we attended his church, we would then go to his parent’s farm for his mother’s much-raved-about chicken dinner.  When he first told me what we would have, that sounded wonderful.  I loved chicken. 

But, when I began going there, I had a problem.  As we would drive into the barnyard, we would drive through a flock of chickens, and then we would go in the house and eat … chicken!!  Yikes!  Wayyyy too short a loop in the food chain for this city girl!!  I found myself avoiding looking directly at the chickens in the barnyard because I was afraid of making eye contact with next Sunday’s dinner!

I, of course, couldn’t refuse to eat the wonderful (to everyone else) meal his mother had made, but I certainly didn’t eat as “heartily” as I was capable of doing.  And, the chicken wasn’t the only food I had a problem with — the peas were crunchy!  Okay, maybe that is a slight exaggeration, but they were much firmer than any pea I had ever eaten, and bright green!  I was used to canned, Army-green, mushy peas.  I didn’t remember ever having fresh peas before, and they not only looked different but they tasted totally different too!  Now, it’s hard to imagine that I would have preferred canned instead of fresh peas, but, especially when you are young, it’s all about what you are accustomed to eating.

When I look back, I wonder if his parents and siblings looked forward to me coming to dinner because it was so entertaining to watch me experience “farm food”.  I’ve never had a poker face, so I’m sure every emotion I experienced showed clearly on my face.

Over the years, I did come to appreciate and enjoy my mother-in-law’s farm cooking, including her chicken which she fried and then baked slowly in the oven — fantastic!  Very different than my mother’s cooking, but every bit as good, in its own way. 

And, it did make it alot easier when Hubby’s parents quit raising chickens so that I at least didn’t have to avoid the accusing gaze of the condemned as we drove through the barn yard.

Just the beginning of many lessons learned when a couple start learning about the traditions and life styles of each other’s family.

I believe in the power of prayer!

 

 

In just our close family we have had two very serious surgeries recently for brain tumors.

Jon, the beloved husband of our niece Julie, had surgery to remove a benign brain tumor a month ago, and now has had to have another extensive surgery last week because of infection. 

And two weeks ago, Cooper, the beautiful, energetic  two year old son of our nephew Justin, was found to have a tumor at the base of his skull.  He had 10 hours of surgery to remove it and while it was cancerous it appears they got it all.

I am very thankful that both Jon and Cooper are in large metropolitan areas where there are many doctors and medical facilities at their disposal.  But, I (and they) also know that prayer is the most powerful medicine of all.

So, on this Sunday, I ask you to include our loved ones, Jon and Cooper, in your prayers.

Thank you, friends.

A perfect gift for Mama, a lover of books

 

When Mama was a little girl she had very few possessions, partially because her family was very poor, but also due to the fact that  they “traveled light” because they moved so often.  From a very young age, she loved reading books and at times would have a few for a while, but for one reason or another, she was never really able to accumulate any books that she could call her own. 

So, as an adult, Mama had a very special love of books … both to read (she was an avid reader) and to just own.

Considering Mama’s history with books, imagine what a wonderful gift this was that she received at Christmas, 1979.

   Mama, the author!

My sister, Jean Marie, had secretly taken Mama’s memories that she had written down in notebooks over many years, typed them for months (this was truly an act of love because Jean and her husband owned their own company, so she normally felt wayyy past typing things herself) and then had them bound into a book that she titled I Remember .

Mama received a big heavy package from Jean a few weeks before Christmas and, per Jean’s instructions, I talked her into opening it when it arrived, rather than wait until Christmas morning.  It shows how curious she was about the gift (and my obvious excitement) that she broke one of her own very strict rules that Christmas gifts not be opened before Christmas morning! 

So, when she agreed to open it, I took her ever-present camera (because I KNEW she would want a picture) and made sure I caught her excitement when she realized what the gift was.  I am so glad I got to be there when she opened it.  She was elated!  Just before I took this picture, she was saying, “I’m an author!  I’m an author!”

Jean had given Mama enough copies so that she could give one to each of her children and grandchildren.  Mama faithfully wrote a personal dedication in the front of each of the copies and, because Jean had given them to her early, she was able to give them to everyone that Christmas!

 Truly one of the best gifts Jean could have possibly given to Mama, a lover of not just books, but also of family and family history.

A Warm, Sunny Day in August …

 

… with three little girls we adore. 

When DD’s three daughters spent the first week in August with us, we had a great time.  And the weather was perfect, which allowed us to spend alot of time outdoors.

It is especially fun to see the girls enjoy activities that have been around for generations …

  

… like running through the sprinkler (an activity I remember enjoying when I was a child!)

 

 

 

   Mimi (5)

    Coco (11)

    Lulu (9)

   

 

When they had had enough of running through the sprinkler, they spent some “recovery time” on the deck.

   But, you know children, their recovery time was quick!   So, Lulu and Mimi decided to give their big sister, Coco, a massage.

    I showed Mimi how to do the chopping thing on Coco’s back, and she liked that so she did it with alot of enthusiasm!

    When they were all finished giving each other massages, Coco and Lulu asked Papa to take them out to the middle of the lake to swim.

      If they swim at the edge, their feet get “mucky” so he takes them out where they don’t have to worry about touching the bottom/muck.

 

 

   Mimi understands that she’s too little to swim out in the really deep water, even with a life jacket, but I’m guessing here she’s imagining a day when she will be a a “big kid” and be able to swim out there.

   After a while, she asked if we could go down and sit by the water.  So, we did and she made a game of sorting rocks. 

  She put all the ones that had pink in them in one pile.

    And I forget what her criteria were for the rocks that went into this pile.  But, she was very serious about examining each rock and deciding on where it went.

   I told her I thought the black and white one in the middle of this group looked like an oreo cookie!

   And we decided this one looked like a house slipper!

How long has it been since you have really looked at rocks?  It had been a while for me, and I really enjoyed seeing their beauty through her eyes.

When the rest came back from swimming we went in the house for a snack.

   A fun August afternoon in the sun.