Growing up with Grandma

Early February for me is accompanied by a flood of memories of my grandmother.

Grandma’s health did not allow her to live alone in her big house after my grandfather died, so my parents built a room onto the old farmhouse and Grandma moved in with us. I was seven years old at the time, so grew up with Grandma being part of the family.

Her birthday was February 9. No other social invitations were to be accepted on that weekend. All the relatives would be gathering at our house for Grandma’s birthday, and we were to be there! My mind fills with mixed emotions of those times.

One of Grandma’s pastimes was rolling bandage material for missionary hospitals in Africa. She would collect old bed sheets from the women of our church and cut the edges into strips. Then she would place a hard suitcase on her bed and have me sit on one side to keep the fabric taught as she rolled the material to be used for bandages. It gave us long opportunities to chat.

Every Sunday afternoon Grandma wrote letters, usually to her sister in Florida and her brothers in Minnesota and Carolina. Sometimes I would interrupt her for a visit and hear stories of these people. It was a lesson by example of faithful communication in an era when keeping in touch was more difficult than now.

Sometimes Grandma would join me at the piano with her German hymn book. She would sing as I played some of her favorite pieces. She liked to tease that I could play well in German!

An evening with no homework was occasion for a game of Chinese Checkers with Grandma. She taught me all the tips and tricks of the game, but would still win!

One flower bed in our yard held a red carnation. The container was a used tractor tire and Grandma could sit on the tire edge to weed and tend the carnation plant. Under her care, it grew prolifically and was a sea of red blooms!

When I was learning to drive, Dad purchased a car with an automatic transmission. The concept impressed Grandma, who would comment, “Wouldn’t it be something if you could just push a button and steer!” I often think of that when I go on the highway and hit the cruise control.

Grandma received Christmas gifts from friends and family by mail. She would be curious and want to open them when they arrived. We would tease her and convince her to wait for Christmas day.

One winter Monday morning Grandma got up and ate breakfast as usual, complete with her cup of Postum. She wasn’t feeling well so returned to her room to lay down for awhile. There she had a heart attack and died. My brother picked me up at school with the news. It was the end of nine years of memory-making.

Only as I became an adult did I realize the unique and special privilege it was to live with my grandmother and to know her so well. Happy birthday, Grandma. Auf wiedersehen, gute nacht!