My family had a beautiful blonde and white cocker spaniel named Cindy with the happiest, wagging tail. From the day I came home from the hospital Cindy never left my side. As I learned to walk, she stayed by my side. She used to visit the local priest’s house across the road where they would offer her treats. On special Sundays Cindy would be seen walking up the aisle of the Catholic Church looking for Father Wagner to give her treats and mass was stopped as Cindy was lured out the back.
My Grandma and Grandpa drove into our driveway with their 1962 white Studeb
aker. They had not owned any other type of car except a “made in Indiana” Studebaker. I wondered why they were coming for a visit because they usually visited on Sundays. This was my very first memory of Grandma and they came for a difficult reason. I was five when my Grandma took me to our “family room” which was a converted garage. She sat down at my child-sized table and said she wanted to play a game which seemed odd to me. I kept asking question after question when a large truck pulled up in front of the garage. Grandma finally explained that Cindy had died and these people were coming to take her away. Grandma was a large lady with breasts that could smother anyone who came in contact and with my size she had an unfair advantage but on this day hugs were not enough.
Grandma was a lovely lady who was just like most Grandmas of the 60’s and 70’s. She wore leather shoes with clunky heels but her dresses were beautiful floral prints that draped her body. She never wore trousers, always a dress and on Sunday’s and special occasions, an elegant hat. While Grandma was only educated to the eighth grade she could cook and bake anything. When I spent the night she woke me asking, “What do you want to eat?” My reply was always, “Oatmeal, please.” She made delicious oatmeal that was cooked until it was unrecognizable as oats. My Mom made it too but never like Grandma.
I spent many laundry days with Grandma. She warmed the water while rolling her washing machine into the kitchen and hooked it up to the sink. The tub filled and she attached the rollers and we would run the clothes through them trying to squeeze out that last drop. Then we headed out into the back yard and she would grab her clothespin bag that was one of Grandpa’s old shirts with the bottom and arms sewn up and hung onto a hanger which was later slid up and down the clothesline. The rule for hanging clothes was to attach the previous garment to the next with one clothespin so not to use too many.
My grandparents had a good-sized garden that provided enough food to feed them and enough extra to sell to the local farm stand. They grew string beans and my grandma was always busy fixing them. I learned early to take the top and bottom off and pull the strings down the side. We sat in the “breezeway” watching the little black and white television with a large brown paper sack filled to the brim with newly picked beans and a pot for the finished ones. The job seemed never-ending but Grandma was fast, I wasn’t.
They also grew boysenberries. I hated it when we had to pick the berries because all the bushes had large thorns that seemed to attack me as soon as I stuck my hand near them. It was awful BUT the ultimate sacrifice produced the most lovely boysenberry cobblers and jams. Grandma could do one thing really well and that was to bake pies and cobblers. On special occasions she would make apple dumplings where she would peel and core the apple putting cinnamon, nutmeg, butter and brown sugar inside the core. She would then wrap them in a luscious homemade pastry baking them and covering them in a mouthwatering glaze of butter, brown sugar and spices.
Grandma’s Apple Dumplings
½ cup of Brown Sugar
2 cups of Water
½ stick of Butter
Cinnamon and Nutmeg
Boil all together for 15 minutes
Pour Half on when you put them into the oven and the remainder just before they are done.
(Keep in mind that Grandma never wrote down any recipes. This is all I could find and it was written in my Mother’s handwriting. What was omitted was the pastry recipe and the peeling and coring of the apples.)
Most of my early memories of Grandma revolve around food and her wonderful cooking but that isn’t all. My Grandparents slept in a full sized four poster bed. As a child I loved that bed and asked Grandma if someday I could have it. Grandpa died and after a time Grandma moved into a nursing home and with some sadness, I got the bed. I still have that bed and when she lived with us my mother slept in it until she died. These are all such tender memories.
Once my Grandmother could no longer care for herself and the live-in caregiver could no longer care for her all our lives changed. Grandma had broken her pelvis, had a stroke and suffered from bouts of dementia. The dementia mostly came about when we changed her surroundings. At somewhere around the age of 87 she was hospitalized with an aortic aneurysm for which she was treated with surgery. After the surgery at 5:00 AM we received a call where Grandma seemed distressed. Apparently there was a “Polecat” climbing her walls. We just told her that we would come and take care of it. All was well.
Grandma was in the nursing home and still sometimes confused. She would call the house and speaking to my sister she said, “They have taken my phone away and I am stuck under the bed.” My sister said, “Grandma, you are on the phone. If you look up what do you see?” Her reply was, “The ceiling.” My sister said, “I guess you aren’t under the bed then.” Grandma abruptly put the receiver down.
Later in her life she was hospitalized with a broken pelvis. We visited her in the hospital knowing of her situation with confusion. The first thing she said to us was, “Last night I woke up and there was a naked man under my bed.” We knew she was confused so we tried to change the subject. The nurse came in and asked us to wait out in the hallway while they tended to the other lady in the room. We were all standing out in the hallway when one of our neighbors came running up to ask what brought us in. We told him that Grandma had broken her pelvis and was having memory issues. He said that his father had come in and he too had memory issues. He said in fact his father was found naked under a lady’s bed the night before. Score one for Grandma.
It was Christmas 1990 when Grandma had a stroke. She was terribly affected by the stroke. She had lost her speech as well as the use of her arms and legs. At 95 she became trapped by her body that had been so strong all those years. We were taking turns feeding her and staying with her in the hospital. We knew that at 95 and with all she had been through, she could not undergo much more. My two sisters came to see her and helped but left for Florida to be with other family members. It was just Mom, Daddy and myself. Mom’s sister was useless as she had been with my Grandpa. The doctors mentioned feeding tubes and all other horrible things to just prolong the inevitable. We decided to withdraw fluids as she had done for Grandpa. We knew it would be a matter of days. She could still communicate somewhat so she was instrumental in her care.
It was a cold and snowy December night. The nurse told us it wouldn’t be much longer but we needed food and a break. She told us to go home and if anything changed she would call us. We lived less than two miles from the hospital so we knew we could get back quickly. We arrived home and within minutes the nurse called telling us to come back now. I drove my car and my parents drove theirs. I ran up the stairs while they took the elevator. I arrived at Grandma’s side and grasped her hand. I told her that I loved her and we were there for her. A huge tear fell from one eye. Within a minute or two my parents arrived, It would be the last time Mom would see her Mother and she told her that she would be there for her. Within a minute, Grandma died. I was so happy that I could be there for her.