Monday, April 28, 2014

Inner Joy: Grandma

Inner Joy: Grandma:    My Grandmother Stella ,  long dead, elicits the most wonderful memories. I can still see her when I knocked on her black screen door. Pe...

Sunday, April 27, 2014

Inner Joy: Grandma

Inner Joy: Grandma:    My Grandmother Stella ,  long dead, elicits the most wonderful memories. I can still see her when I knocked on her black screen door. Pe...

Grandma

   My Grandmother Stella, long dead, elicits the most wonderful memories. I can still see her when I knocked on her black screen door. Peeking through her window, I saw her inching her way slowly towards me, then opening the door, her  face broke into a big grin. "Oh for land sakes!" she'd say waving her hand through the air. The next thing I knew she was drawing my face close for a smooch. A shrunken lady, because of her camel back, she would say,"Come on in," while her eyes laughed, "ha ha ha"...
   Stepping inside her house, I would take note of her long plaid house dress and her long apron. It wasn't unusual to find her baking her oatmeal cookies, an aroma that filled her house like potpourri. And if she wasn't making cookies, she was working with rhubarb or pitting cherries out on her back porch there in her house, beside the park, at the top of Main Street in Gothenburg, Nebraska. A one time homesteader and the wife of a rancher, who helped build the Union Pacific, Grandma cooked for a hotel in Brady. Of course, that was when she was young. In fact, she was making the pastries the day my French Grandpa came over from the saloon side of the hotel to the bar side. By the time I met her she'd moved to town and had grown fairly old. She was in her eighties. 
    Among the best parts were her wild flower garden, the fact that she lived beside the park, and the cherry tree in her back yard. My sister and I would get up on ladders and pick cherries which she baked into bubbling pies. My other favorite time was evening. We would sit down and talk about what we wanted to watch. Sometimes it would be a detective show or a talk show. I  remember how much she enjoyed Lawrence Welk. Even if I didn't like the show, I liked it because I was with her, and she was contagiously good natured, and because she was as talkative as I was. We spent a great deal of time researching relatives in my search for someone famous. They were either English like her or French like Grandpa.
   Grandma kept wrapped candy beside the couch. They were those chocolates in colorful foil. She had a gas log fireplace and a wrought iron, miniature stove that looked like a toy. Among her pretties was the flower covered china clock painted by Aunt Poe. Around ten o'clock we would turn off the TV lamp on her television. Fifteen minutes later we'd be laying side by side, Grandma in her silk nighty. We'd talk for a bit and make plans for the next day. In no time,  I'd hear her snoring. As soft spring breezes blew in through her window,  I'd listen to the traffic go by on Main Street, knowing that tomorrow would be as sweet as today had been.

Saturday, April 26, 2014

Would You Believe Me if I Said...

Would you believe me if I said I was never sad, never had bad moods, or had never had a fight with my husband? 

Would you believe me if I said I never got lonesome or wished I had more friends?

And what  if I said I'd never embarrassed myself or felt foolish or wished I could do it all over again?


Would you believe me  if I said that I liked everyone and had never gossiped or had a bad thought?


And would you believe me if I said I never complained about anything like ice on the streets, boredom, hunger, being too warm or thirsty?


What  if I said  that hot flashes had never made me miserable...that I never worried about my hair and didn't care a whittle about what others thought or that my feelings were never hurt? 


Or how about my saying that my house was always clean with windows that sparkled and a toilet so white it squeaked. 


Would you believe me if I said there were no dust balls under the bed or that I still looked perfect at midnight when I laid my head down on the pillow? 

How about my saying that I said I fixed my husband a fully cooked meal three times a day and made desserts twice a week?


Just wondering what you would say or do if I said that all of these were true or said that even one of these was true of me?