Every Thursday night I spend forty minutes on the phone with my Grandma. Again, on Sunday, we talk for 40 more minutes. That's it, only twice a week. It is during this time that we laugh, and cry, and hope and pray. It is time I have learned to treasure. It is the time many people can only wish they had with their grandparents. It is time I do not take for granted.
Evelyn, Gladys, Lillian, Mable, Millie, Jane, Rose, Violet, Lorraine, Bill, Bob, Melvin, Don, Ray, Jim, Lawrence, Clarence. This is a list of the 17 Hardy siblings in no particular order. My Grandma Jane is the only girl left in her family, she has two brothers still living but all others have passed on. If you think you have had much loss in your life, imagine losing 14 siblings. I never had a sister, but I know that for my Grandma, losing her sisters has left a gaping whole in her heart. She feels as if she doesn't have anyone she can talk to or share her feelings with in the way that only a sister could understand. In addition to her siblings, my Grandma has lost her husband and most recently her son. The loneliness feels infinite for her.
Listening to my Grandma each week lifts a weight from her shoulders. I decided last year that I would start writing down the stories she shared, but honestly, I never made the time for it. I regret it. Each year my Grandma's memory fades a little more and someday I will long to listen to her Thursday night stories. I should also mention that the only way I get to the "good stuff" is by first listening to the weekly report of the "bad stuff." Aliments, headaches, sore legs, weird apartment smells, ingrown toenails, vacuuming that needs to be done, nosey neighbors, the cost of everything, the weather, a dirty laundry room, doctors that "don't know nothing" and the germs in the elevator. The key to this stuff is two parts listening, and one part compassion. She and all elderly are ever so deserving of a kind ear to hear their troubles. Once the negative is out, we feel better. And so begins a collection of my
Grandmother's Memories .
Winter on the Farm
When winter came we always looked forward to the sleigh rides through the snow. The sleigh was led by horses, Duke and Deuy. Mother would bundle us up tight but it was never quite warm enough when the duo got going fast. Mother would tell us to take extra horse blankets to help keep us warm on the way to Bock and she always reminded us to hold on tight as the sleigh jostled on its way. We would gather the feed sacks and the list of food Mother needed for the weeks to come. We didn't go to town often back then. There were snowstorms that would sometimes last for days. Once my brother and father left for town in the sleigh but they were forced to turn around when the snow began coming over the horse's bellies.
Even in the bitter cold we had to walk to school. The lunch pails were so cold that by the time we arrived to school, our sandwiches would be frozen and curled up. The sandwiches we requested back then were made of butter and a dollop of Karo Syrup. It was something to put in the stomach and not much more. Some of the older brothers had sandwiches made of only bread and lard, maybe if they were lucky a sprinkle of sugar on top. They call them the good ole days, but I don't know what was so good about them.
In the winter we had to create our own fun on the "X Ranch." Once the hayfields were cut, some of the low fields would get rain that would soon freeze in our field and the neighbors. When this happened we had our very own ice skating pond. We would get our chores done and then light a lantern to take with us out to the ice. We would skate, slide, and play games out in the frozen field until it was bedtime. I can even recall my brothers finding some branches to use as hockey sticks, and a piece of frozen horse manure as a puck. It wasn't much, but we thought it was grand back then.
On Sundays we would go north of our farm to a place we called "Axel's Hill." Axel had a sister named Edna who would sometimes take our Mother to town. It was a big hill and the sleds could really fly down. It was fun until you fell off, which happened often. We went down Axel Larson's Hill so many times we wore the runners off the sled.
When Christmas would come we would always have a shiny bright red apple waiting for us Christmas morning. "Evelyn the Instigator " would play hymns on the pump organ she had convinced my mother to get for the family. She had no lessons but she practiced until she got it down. Sometimes when I am supposed to go sleep, I think of these things with my family. I think, "What a gathering we will have someday!" It reminds me of the song, " When the Roll is Called Up Yonder, I'll Be There."
