Granny’s Legacy Series Part 3 – Growing up

Grandmother Theda wasn’t a working woman. That is, she was never hired to hold a job in her life. Her’s was a time of working more then 40 hours a week, but without the benefits of pay, vacation time, or health care.

As almost every other – still – able body, she survived the time after WWII by laboring as a ‘Truemmer Frau” a rubble woman. That meant getting up early enough to swing the household into gear, with three small children to care for, and then go out to separate the still usable bricks from the mountains of ruins that had once been her city. All of Germany sustained heavy damage from bombings, and what was left had to be recycled to rebuild to the best of our abilities. Defeated, without resources, factories, or money, what you got was what you saw and could salvage. And as always, it was the women who paid the price of men’s (or ONE man) foolishness. The men were either still gone, or in many cases, would not return at all. It was up to the women to ensure survival. The food in return for these cleanup duties kept the children alive. I cannot even imagine how she managed, and she never talked about it much, but considering how long simple chores took back then, she must have easily worked 16 hours and more, each day. As far as I can tell, she never put something off for another day, her schedule was imprinted in her brain, laundry day and all. Almost as an aside she did raise her three daughters, and unlike taking the break of having them move away when they married, she continued of taking an active part in her family, now having gained three sons, and eagerly waiting for the grandchildren to pamper. Little did she know that her first grandchild (yours truly) would end up being another daughter for her to raise.

Growing up with Granny was a sheltered life. I guess after raising three girls of her own, the ‘fourth’ one did not cause all that much trouble. Although, when my mother had to go back to work, I was just through nursing. Granny was faced with dirty diapers again, 20 years after she thought it was all done and over with. But never, in all my years with her, did I hear her complain. That wasn’t in her. I was another gift for her.

Even considered ‘old’ to have another baby to raise, I remember the years with Granny as the happiest one’s in my life. She shaped me more than anybody else. Her grace, her calm acceptance of life, and her quite worship of every minute lived, and enjoyed. She always made time for happiness. Little things, sometimes, like sitting on a comfortable pillow watching the rain run down on the living room windows, gazing at nature’s light show like it was a treasured movie…. A quite afternoon spend in the city’s library, secretly tucked away in leather chairs among the wonderful smell of leather and the magic of knowledge (children were not usually allowed in the adult section). Or the unexpected treat of baking waffles (the old fashioned way girls. We’re talking a contraption that took two people to wield comfortably, cast iron, on long iron handles, which was placed directly into the cooking fire – we had gas stoves – until the waffle was turning golden brown) one afternoon, just because. Money was tight, and this was not a time of buying candy. I never felt I was missing out.

What was always big with her were the afternoon strolls. Each day, summer like winter, rain or shine, we would dress and go outside to walk along the beautiful river and meadows of our home village. On nice summer days, that walk could stretch for hours, to some of our more favorite spots further away. There were hours spend just sitting on benches in rose gardens, or laying in the sweet grass listening to the honeybees… yes, nature was part of her life, and as important as breathing. Yet her hands were never idle. If she didn’t bring her crocheting along, she would weave flower garlands to crown my head. Granny walked with open eyes, and open heart. She would find the pretty feather a bird had left for her, or stop to point out some fragrant blossoms. When I was smaller, she would patiently sit in the sun for hours, watching over me at the playground. Go out and play wasn’t in her vocabulary. It was always, LETS go out and play. Together.

Always together. Maybe the reason I grew up self dependent and strong was to watch granny care for herself and her family the way she did. In a time where women did not have a driver’s license or money for a car, and bus service was sparse, when you wanted to go see someone you walked. Sometimes, for a very long time. And she would go visit with her daughters even while pushing my stroller, five hours to get there, five hours back.

In later years, she would watch over my homework. A comfort and a challenge, to do good, to do right. And all the while struggling along with me, she, who never did have an education, and was so thoroughly lost in the world of geometry and algebra. How many children today are that lucky, or wouldn’t feel they are over-supervised? I know just how lucky I was. I remember not one day of feeling lonely, or scared, or unsecure.

It seems to me, that while life was considerably harder back then, without microwaves, coffee machine, toaster, blender, or TV dinners (heck, even a TV was luxury, and was only watched for certain events, definitely not allowed before sundown), life also seemed to be MORE so. There was so much more to do, but there was always time. Time to answer my questions, time to smile, time to – live. In the last few years I have been taking my cues from Granny. As so often in life, we only realize what we have after it’s gone. Now that she is not here anymore to leave me giggling messages on my answering machine (she never quite could figure out how it was possible to talk to a machine, and always felt foolish, sometimes just calling my name over and over and laughing), I begin to adapt my life in her honor. I do take the time to enjoy a rainbow, I rearranged my house to reflect a more pleasant, somewhat old fashioned order, and this spring, when the TV blew up, I just didn’t get a new one. All of a sudden, I have time. Precious, valued time, that I can spend living, instead of having life run away with me. I even have the time to tuck away some of my modern appliances, and use Granny’s old, worn, wooden stomper to make mashed potatoes. And they are soo good. Rich, and lumpy, like, well, Granny used to make.

© Sorceress SummerWind, August 1999