Grandma's House

Over the river and through the woods...not hardly!Two hours in the car, five squirming children, two frustrated adults in a Jeep Willys Woody Wagon on the road to Grandma's House. More like over the creeks and though the cornfields. Maybe through a tiny settlement or two with funny names: Cranberry Prairie, Chickasaw, Philothea. Sunday dinner at Grandma's.

Grandma and Grandpa were old. Everyone over the age of 20 or so was old, but they were really, really old! She wore her gray hair in a braided bun and wore funny shoes and funny glasses. He looked like one of Santa's elves with a fringe of white hair around his bare dome of a head and a twinkle in his blue eyes behind his wire rimmed glasses. But there was something special about these old folks. They really seemed to like us. A lot!
Both had grown up many years ago. In the 1800s for goodness sake! Both had come from large families. I guess that's how they did it way back then. They were alive when the wild west was still wild! As far as I know they never had a shootout with any black hatted bad guys, although Grandpa probably could have handled it. He was a crack shot.

Grandma grew up in the same small village she now lived in. Her father had fought in the Civil War so he may have dealt with a bad guy or two. She married Grandpa in 1903, made three exquisite children and many exquisite quilts. She was gifted in both areas. She also excelled in other needlework arts: embroidery, crochet (think doilies, handkerchiefs, and pillow cases. You might need to google the first one. FYI, handkerchiefs were in vogue before tissues, and everyone carried one). And tatting (I KNOW you'll need to look that one up!). She was also gifted in making comfort food. Think fried chicken, breaded pork chops, pot roast, meat loaf. Then rub your tummy and say m-m-m-m-m! She had lived in the same town her whole life except during The Great War when Grandpa worked in a tank factory in another town. After the Armistice, they returned home.
Grandpa grew up on a farm in a far away county. Why and how he came to Grandma's town is a mystery. Once he got there, he put his many talents to good use. He had many talents besides twinkling. He partnered with a friend in a hardware store. That friend had a pretty younger sister who caught his eye. They married in 1903. 1903, for goodness sake!His other careers were in shoe repair and fix it shops. For those who aren't familiar with those concepts, in his day, when people's shoes fell apart, they fixed them and wore them again. This might happen over and over again! What a concept ! And when things broke, they fixed them and used them again too! Wow! Amazing, huh? Grandpa could fix anything. He could also build furniture. There was a desk in his dining room that he remade from a buffet. He built a chair for it with a carved lions head on the back rest. True story! I was afraid to sit on it when I was little. Apparently I wasn't very bright. He didn't shoot the Old West bad guys but he was unbeatable at the yearly Thanksgiving turkey shoot. Wonder who cleaned all those turkeys? I may have helped eat a couple.
Sunday was the day to go to Grandmas because it was usually a slow day for Mom. Sunday was a day of rest back then. Up around 5:30 to get the children ready for six o'clock (AM) Mass. Stop at the newspaper branch managers to pick up the Sunday papers for my brother to deliver. Make a big breakfast. Eggs, bacon or ham or sausage, pancakes or french toast or cinnamon toast or muffins or coffee cake, coffee, orange juice, milk or maybe hot chocolate if it was cold. Clean up after that so she can start dinner. Big meal, comfort food, all the trimmings. Leisure time between meals was spent reading or sewing or attending church meetings. After dinner was clean up again. No dishwashers except for children who were not very dependable or thorough. A short break ( see leisure time above). Then supper. It was usually dessert. Apple dumplings, strawberries shortcake, ice cream sodas, just plain ice cream. So I guess a 6-7 hour break riding in the car and visiting family and not having to cook was a welcome break. Or maybe not.
Anyway after 2 hours squashed into a car, no room for toys to amuse us, counting train cars and cornstalks, we would arrive by driving past the ice cream store. Three blocks later, turn left. Two blocks later, we were there.

Grandma's House. Small, white, front porch with a swing, sitting at the edge of town, across the street from the cemetery, next door to the bowling alley.
Grandma's House. Four rooms downstairs, two rooms upstairs, with old furniture and carpet everywhere.
Grandma's House. Hugs and kisses, cake batter bowls to lick, fresh butter on the table. We ate margarine at home.
Grandma's house. Three blocks to uptown, two blocks of old stores from the last century.
The one before 1900. One traffic light in the middle. Dont know why there was a traffic light. That implies there was enough traffic to need one. We could buy a big candy bar or ice cream cone at the drugstore for a nickel. Behind the stores was an old log fort. Great for climbing ladders and playing cowboys and Indians. A couple of blocks in the other direction was the old train station where we could watch trains roll through.
Grandma's house. The dining room table opened up large enough to seat all of us and sometimes a couple more. Sometimes our aunt, uncle and cousin would come. And the food! See Sunday dinner above, but add Grandma's famous burnt sugar cake to that.
Grandma's house. Playing on the front porch. Swinging on the porch swing. Until the horseflies swarmed and dive bombed and we'd have to retreat inside. Not much to do inside. Grownups sitting around talking about boring stuff. Looking at old, old books about about looking for lost doctors in Africa or Indians attacking some general in Montana. Once Grandma gave me an old jewelry box with a bunch of old jewelry in it. Wish I had it now!
As the years went by my family members had other things to do on Sundays. So sometimes it was just Dad and me. He would sing in his beautiful baritone voice as we road along. Old Man River. Swing Low Sweet Chariot. We Sail the Ocean Blue (You don't hear that one much these days, unless you're a Gilbert and Sullivan fan. Look them up). It was wonderful! On the way home we always stopped for ice cream. Just the two us us! Wish we could do it again.
Grandpa died when I was 8 or 9. Grandma moved away. Sundays were spent at home after that.
I was just back in that little town recently. It looked nearly exactly the same. Still has the traffic light, the drug store, the bowling alley, the cemetery. Grandma's house has been sided and the front porch enclosed, but still looked like the place I remember. Thought I heard some echoes of children's voices playing. Maybe not.