At four foot, eleven inches, nearly as big around as she was tall, the tale-tale signs of her carrot red hair — freckles and fiery spirit — remained. I don’t think I ever saw my dad’s mom without her signature faded loose fitting shirtwaist dress. When she bent over at the waist to weed her flowerbed, her fanny stuck out, revealing rolled up stockings below the knee. When it was hot inside her tiny apartment, across the street from the Thermadore plant, she’d move her treadle Singer sewing machine out on the sidewalk.
I saw her often when I was young. She only lived five blocks from me. I’d stay with her when my parents went on a weekly date to the movies on Saturday night. Grandma was a creature of habit. We’d start the evening with a game of Chinese Checkers then I’d be subjugated to Lawrence Welk, Bonanza, and Gunsmoke in that order.
She taught me how to play Canasta and Pinochle. Sometimes her friends Mr. and Mrs. Umbrella (or at least that’s what I thought she called them) would come over to visit. I always went outside on the narrow curb, so they wouldn’t see me laugh. Mrs. Umbrella looked like an umbrella opened wide, and her husband was as tiny as she was large.
Grandma told me stories of a far away land called Ohio. She moved to California after World War II by herself. She was no stranger to peril. At eight years old, she’d been placed in an orphanage. Her mother had been institutionalized after losing two younger children and ended up dying there. Grandma cared for her younger brother in the home. Her one-year-old sister, Florence, only lasted a year before she passed away.
Grandma never drove a car or owned a computer, but she emerged tough as nails, doing odd jobs, including midwifery, to support herself and eventually six children. You didn’t mess with her. Dad wasn’t afraid of anything, at least that’s how I remember him, but he never talked back to his mom.
Sometimes the best things do come in small packages, especially when topped with red.
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Love this!
Our Grandmas must have been friends. I spent many a Saturday night watching Lawrence Welk, Bonanza and Gunsmoke. In fact on Sirus 4 channel (Holiday Music) I guessed the Lennon Sisters singing one of the songs! Do you know that there is a relative of theirs on our stake?