Grandma Was an Iron Woman

Someone I know only through Facebook mentioned she and her husband were in Whiting, Indiana for a Pierogi festival.  It reminded me of all my relatives who lived in Whiting and Hammond.  My Mom and Dad were raised in Whiting.  My grandma and grandpa (maternal) lived on Schrage Ave., and 2 of my Mom's sisters and their families lived within walking distance of grandma.  I never knew my paternal grandparents, as they both passed before I turned 4.

Up until when I was in junior high, Dad would pile all 5 of us kids into the car (fighting and kicking the whole way) on Sundays in the summer months to drive to grandma's for the day.  Sometimes we would go on Saturday and stay overnight in grandma's cavernous, 2-story brick house.  Sometimes I would be left there for 1 or 2 weeks in the summer to hang out with my cousin LouAnn, and sometimes 3 or 4 carloads of various cousins (I have over 30 first cousins) would go to the Indiana Dunes to play on the beach for a day.

I haven't been to Whiting in years, since when grandma passed (and grandpa shortly thereafter at the age of 95 I think), the families fell out of connection, and since then all but 1 of my Mom's siblings has passed, and my Dad's siblings are all gone, too.

I loved those summer weeks I spent at grandma's house.  Every morning I would wake up excited to do pretty much nothing!  LouAnn and I would go for really long walks, we would go to the nearby schoolyard and play on the teeter-totters and swings, walk to my Aunt Ann's house (which seemed like miles away at the time but now I think it was maybe 1.5 miles), play silly word games, scrounge around in grandma's attic or LouAnn's basement, walk to visit the 5 cousins who lived a few blocks away, and share jokes only WE got.

Meanwhile, grandma was busy cooking (she was a great cook), doing laundry and tending to her beautiful flower garden.  I loved her flowers, and would ask her what is this, what is that, how did she grow these things.  It is from her that I developed a love for gardening.  My younger sister, Lisa, is into it as well.  Grandma was a pretty good seamstress and could crochet like a banshee, too, and I inherited her talent and surpassed her.  I still remember when I was in I think 3rd or 4th grade having my Mom insist that I show grandma how I crochet, because I have a somewhat unique way that I hold the needle and thread, and I can do it pretty fast.  I can still see grandma's face and her unique chuckle at watching me.  One of her sayings was "Yoy Many."  At least that's how we pronounced it.  Don't know what the hell that means or if it's a Croatian word.  Well, she said that, waved her arms, and proclaimed that I was some sort of mutant.

I have very dexterous hands--I began playing the piano at the age of 4, took up crocheting when I was maybe 10, took typing in summer school in 7th grade and quickly achieved over 100wpm.  I began sewing in junior high, too, and the hand sewing part (hems, buttons, facings) requires good dexterity.  Gardening doesn't require dexterity, but a good eye for things out of place or noticing insects and such.  I don't play piano much anymore, but occasionally whip out some Bach and remember that I really should practice!  I haven't crocheted much since I took up triathlon.  For one thing, I don't need any more doilies!  They are all over my house, which I guess makes me look like some weird combo of modern and grandma-style!  I only sew pajamas, robes, throw pillow covers and of course I can mend.  I have a few boxes of fabric and patterns complete with notions that I am afraid to get rid of, but that will happen one of these days.  Should I be invited to a wedding or other formal event, I would make a brand new dress, though.  Gardening has stuck with me, and will continue to the day I die, most likely.

Grandma sometimes gave me these secret talks and smiles at how happy she was that I sewed and crocheted.  She never heard me play the piano--she didn't have one--but my Aunt Ann did, and whenever I was there Dad would make me play.  Grandma didn't live long enough to know me when I first lived in my own home and began to garden, but I'm sure wherever she is now she knows.  I wonder what she would think of all this Ironman stuff that I do.  I know that she was an example to me of hard work for the sake of hard work, but also enjoying the more sublime things in life like flowers. In her time, being Ironman meant raising 8 kids and feeding them and their spouses and children on Sundays for many years and hoping that some of them would (many did) inherit her work ethic and zest for life.

I only talk of grandma like this because SHE ruled her home, not grandpa!  Grandpa was a stern disciplinarian, but grandma had the power to overrule him at any time.  I never thought of it until now, but I turned out a lot like grandma, just a more modern version.  To me, she epitomized excelling at the domestic arts as an honorable profession, having some artistic talent (she also did needlework, and I've dabbled in that from time to time), and understanding the value of play and good, home-cooked food.  It still makes me laugh (and seems ironic to some people who know me) that I inherited all her domestic skills, although I hate cleaning (she did, too, from what I remember).

Grandma is probably up in heaven (she was a devout Catholic) looking down at me going, "YOY MANY!"  I think I need to plan a visit to her grave (Mom's grave is close to hers; I have some of Dad's ashes) and thank her for showing me a way to live that I can always be proud of.