Grandma Goings                                                                                                   January 24, 2020

 

“Mom, can I go to Grandma’s?” I asked.

 

“Okay. I’ll finish the dishes and go with you.” Mom said.

 

“No, I want to go now. I can go by myself.”

 

Suspecting something, she asked, “Why the big rush?”

 

I knew if I told her, she would say, “Wait.” So I thought hard. “I want to see if Jackie is there.” Seeing my cousin might be a good reason.

 

The truth is, yesterday as we were at Grandma’s house, she said, “I think I’ll bake a cake tomorrow. Or maybe a pie.” What a motivation! 

 

As we had come home from school at Delaplane, I had thought about what Grandma had said. Her cakes and pies were so good I could almost smell them as we traveled in our black Chevy. I could picture the cake covered with white frosting covered in the glass cake stand. Or maybe it would be a brown crusted apple pie, cooling on the kitchen’s window still. My mouth was watering at the delicious thoughts.

 

Mom looked at me suspiciously. After a pause, she gave in. “Go straight there and wait for me.”

 

I had already changed out of my school clothes and had on my short pants and a striped pull over shirt. Without socks, I slid my feet into my worn shoes and was on my way.

 

I ran across the gravel street, not to avoid the almost non-existent cars, but because I was excited. 

 

I turned the corner onto Main street. There was the two-story general store. I paused to look into the window. There, among various household items, a couple of bolts of material, and a bonnet, was a pair of roller skates. My trip would be delayed a moment or two as I pictured skating on the short sidewalk in front of the store. I had never skated but it looked like fun. The thought of a steaming apple pie drew me away.

 

At the side of the store were stairs to the upper floor where the owner lived. As I looked up, his dog looked down. I could not go by without petting Spot so I waited as the old hound made his way, slowly, down the stairs. He licked my hand and I scratched behind his ears. We had a dog but she had disappeared. I missed her. I picked up a stick and threw it. Spot watched it fly through the air, then with new vigor, he ran for it. Wagging his tail he returned the stick to me and waited while I threw it again and again.

 

But, the thought of creamy frosting won out and I left Spot to climb back up the stairs.

 

I still had the stick in my hand as I walked by Grandma’s neighbor’s picket fence. I listened to the sound of the stick hitting each board as I walked by. One board made a different sound so I stopped to investigate. I discovered a big dirt dobber nest along the side. Standing back as far as I could, I poked the nest. A chunk broke off and there was a tiny worm inside.

 

Carefully, I got it on the end of the stick. I held it close to watch it wiggle in its new surroundings. I tossed it into the grass, realizing that it would not survive outside the nest. 

 

I heard the train whistle and turned to watch the train go by. Of course, I had to count the cars to know how long it was. It was moving quick enough that I had to count fast and I occasionally thought I had missed a box car. Finally, the red caboose came clicking by and I turned to go into Grandma’s yard.

 

“Grandma!” I called. Since I didn’t see her, I took a minute to jump onto the porch swing. The chains creaked as I pumped to go higher and higher. “Grandma!” I tried again without results. I did a high bail out, trying to land next to the cane-bottom rocker.

 

I headed around the side of the house to see if she was out back. 

 

There she was in her garden, bent over picking some early red tomatoes, dropping them into her plaid apron. Most of the vegetables were just coming up on that warm spring day but she had gathered enough for the evening meal.

 

I ran over and gave her a quick hug.

 

“Hi, Bob.” she responded. “Grab a couple of those okra and come inside.”

 

“How was school?” she inquired.

 

“Okay.” I said, indifferently, as we entered the fragrance filled kitchen. Wood smoke and apple pie made a great blend.

 

“What did you learn?” she continued, as she rinsed the okra with water from the dipper. 

 

“Not much.” I replied, letting my eyes devour the apple pie in the window.

 

“Would you like some pie?” she asked needlessly as I took a deep breath, enjoying the aroma. 

 

“You bet!”

 

“Okay. Bring in a couple of sticks of wood while I cut the pie.”

 

I made quick work of that small task, loading my arms with as much split wood as I could carry. Two slices of pie were already on the dark oak table. I pulled out one of the mismatched chairs and plopped down on it.

 

She asked other questions of interest as I tried to answer with my mouth full. 

 

“Grandma, what was Grandpa like?” I inquired as I noticed a picture of him on the wall beside the dish buffet. 

 

Handing me her dish and fork and pointing to the sink, she said, “I’ll tell you as we gather in the clothes.”  I placed our saucers into the dishpan and caught up with her just outside the screen door. 

 

We walked around the smoke-blackened kettle used for making soap and washing clothes. Pulling the pins from the shirt hanging on the clothesline, she continued, “He was a tall man. He liked to tease me about being so short. He would hold his arm straight out and say, ‘See. You can walk under it without hitting your hair bun.’ He had a good sense of humor and was very loving.” 

 

“What happened to him?” I asked as she loaded clean clothes into my out-streached arms.

 

“He had TB and had to go to the Sanatorium.” she answered, as she dropped clothespin into the bag hanging on the line.

 

“They finally released him, saying he was cured. He had been gone from home a long time and was anxious to return. He caught the first train available. He didn’t have time to send us a letter telling us he would be arriving so we could meet him”

 

“It was a cold, rainy night when he arrive at Knoble.” she continued as we piled the clothes onto the bed and she began to fold them. “He wanted to see his family so badly that he began to walk the five miles home, carrying his suitcase.” She placed the folded clothes into the oak chest of drawers. 

 

“It was too much for his weaken body. In the early morning hours he arrived, soaked to the bone. He was shaking with a chill. I put him right to bed but he still caught pneumonia.” she added as she placed the garments to be ironed into a woven basket and returned to the kitchen.

 

I knew there was no cure for pneumonia at that time. 

 

She paused, looking out the window, staring beyond the garden. 

 

“It might rain later,” she said suddenly. “We’d better feed the chickens while we can.”

 

She nodded toward some table scraps in a bowl beside the sink. I grabbed them and caught up with her as we left the back door. 

 

At the coop, I scooped up some shelled corn and began to cast it with the scraps around the fenced-in chicken pen. I liked to watch the chicken as they rushed about, pecking here and there, excited that they had something special to eat.

 

“That left me with five children to raise.” She added thoughtfully.

 

“They were great kids.”she said proudly as we gathered eggs from the hen house. “They had their chores to do and did them. We had a lot of fun too. You know how musical they all are, don’t you?” she asked rhetorically. 

 

We returned to the kitchen where I placed the eggs in a wire basket. 

 

“Our little church had a band and all the children were a part of it.” 

 

She began to slice the tomatoes. “Occasionally, someone would say to me, ‘Miz Donie, you need a man around the house.’ I’d reply that I had three of them and didn’t need any more to take care of.”

 

She got home-canned peaches off the top shelf.

 

“Get the bowl with flowers on it for the peaches.” she directed as I obeyed. “We didn’t have much but we never took charity. We always paid our way. As the family grew up, each added to the support.”

 

I took a knife, popped the sealed lid (I liked that sound) and poured the peaches from the Mason jar into the bowl, enjoying the sweet smell. 

 

”Fill this with water,” she instructed as she handed me a small pot. “We never thought we were poor. We always had enough and enjoyed what we had.”

 

As I moved the handle up and down, the water from the indoor pump filled the pot.

 

“Living in Peach Orchard was great. We have wonderful neighbors,” she bragged. “Grab the butter from the ice box.”

 

I opened the ice box and checked to see if the iceman had left a small chip that I could pliffer. There was none so I got the butter and put it on the table.

 

“When the gardens come in, everyone shares. When we pick peaches, they are given out to all around. We sit together on the porch and snap beans and share gossip.” 

 

“Bob, see those two lids on the shelf above the stove?” I glanced up. Two tin pot lids were standing on their edges, leaning against each other. I started to get them.

 

“No, I don’t need them right now. I wanted you to notice. There wasn’t enough room for them, but by supporting each other, they are both able to stay on the shelf.” I studied them with a little different view.

 

“That’s Peach Orchard. That’s family. That’s our church. That’s the way life should be.” 

 

About that time, Mom arrived. 

 

“Are you helping Grandma?” she questioned.

 

“He’s been a big help.” Grandma answered for me. “You can go play now.”

 

As I pumped higher and higher on the porch swing, I continued thinking about the Lesson of the Lids. 

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Galatians 6:10 Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.