Happy Birthday!

 On this day in 1909, 112 years ago, my Grandmother was born. What do I remember about my Grandmother? Why do I miss her to this day? My Grandmother was a great listener. She got pretty hard of hearing at the end but before that she was a great listener. I could talk to her for hours. And I did talk to her for hours.. Physically she was short and stout with flat feet, long and strong fingers, and thick ankles. But she was flexible. I would often see her in the garden bent over at the waist. She was able to touch her toes without problem. She used to have a bump on the tip of her nose. It looked like a large skin colored pimple. She had the doctor remove it. I complained. I told her I liked it. I told her she didn't look like herself anymore without her bump on her nose. She said it would get caught in her clothing sometimes when she undressed and that was painful so I quit complaining about her decision to have it removed. One day she was at our house babysitting. She was sitting in the comfy chair next to the lamp with a baby on her lap. She loved holding babies. I was sitting cross legged on the floor next to her looking at the evening edition of the Saint Paul Pioneer Press. A headline caught my eye. I don't remember the exact headline but I do remember it mentioned two businesses and it had the word intercourse in it. So I asked, "Grandma, what is intercourse?" Grandma replied, "You can ask you mother that question tomorrow." I forgot all about it until the next day. I got chewed out by my mother for asking Grandma about intercourse. In all that chewing out she didn't tell me what it meant either. I figured it must be a very powerful word to cause the grown ups to get bent out of shape about it. My Grandmother was a great cook. She foraged for dandelion greens in the spring. She made horseradish sauce with the horseradish plant she had outside her bedroom window. She would make so many Christmas cookie cut outs her entire full sized bed would be covered with prettily frosted cookies. She made sauerkraut in the cellar. She milked cows. She cooked up some strange foods such as cow tongue but I suppose she was just being thrifty. She liked to drink her root beer at room temperature. She told me many times that she never drank alcohol and she never wore rouge and I do not understand how those two things went together. She grew grapes in an arbor for jelly. She grew rows and rows of raspberries. Sometimes the nuns from Saint Bernard's church would come out to pick raspberries. Once I was helping a nun pick berries but I had to run home to the bathroom. When I came back I couldn't find my nun. They all looked the same to me I guess. She had chickens and would pluck them before cooking them. She never seemed to mind me hanging out with her in the kitchen or the yard. She worked hard and Grandpa worked hard too. She was good with money. She invested wisely once she became a widow and actually was able to save more than she spent. She wasn't a saint. No one is a saint. But I loved her. To me she was the center of the wheel for her side of the family. She kept in touch with people and shared stories so we all knew what was going on. Once she passed away the family sort of broke off into separate worlds. She knew a lot but she wasn't right all the time. I wish she was still here but she'd be 112 years old and that would not be good.

Here she is 1980 visiting my house. Her glasses are back in style now!