It’s 19 degrees this morning, feels like summer. Today we get a break before the snow comes back tomorrow afternoon and supposedly lasts through mid week. We coaxed Grandma into coming over for dinner last night. It was a really enjoyable evening. The kids were well behaved (we bribed them, no just kidding), and dinner was great. Continuing with the theme of earlier days posts, we prodded Grandma to tell us some stories of her childhood. It seems she too has many similar experiences of many of those who grew up in that era.
One story was when she was in high school and went with her friend and family on a trip to Chicago. This of course was a pretty big deal for a girl from a small town in Wisconsin in 1950. She told us of how a few days earlier she smashed her thumb in a car door and had to frequently stop on the way to soak it. When in Chicago, she and her friend donned their finest cotton dresses (probably home made) and headed off to the Trianon Ballroom for a dance. She says they were way underdressed compared to all the “city girls” in their finest dresses. Somehow I think my Mom was still the most beautiful girl in the room, she’s always been a looker. Anyhow she remembers an older boy, she says, “he must have been 20 or 21 one and I can still see his face”, who asked her to dance. This must have been quite a trip. Other stories include her skating in freezing cold weather when she was young and one afternoon before dinner, while doing her finest Sonja Henie impersonation, she fell and broke her wrist. Her Mom, (my Grandma) then fashioned a splint with a cardboard box from a block of cheese (Wisconsin is a big cheese country), around her wrist and arm as there were no emergency rooms to visit at night and they could do nothing until the morning. She remembered “walking the floor” all night in pain. Can you imagine the pain of a broken wrist that needs to be set, wrapped up in a cardboard box, and then being told to go to sleep until the doctor is in the next morning? We shared other memories of her childhood and mine as life in Wisconsin was pretty good in those days. My grandparents (her parents) were really good people. Simple words, but sums it up. They were kind, thoughtful, and caring. I never remember either of them remotely upset at anything. Perhaps my Mom does, but I can’t imagine them ever yelling or raising their voice. Maybe I’ll get a little more insight today as my Mom told me she’d share the story of when she wrote a letter to the Governor and in her words, “boy were my parents mad!”.
It seems life was much different back then. After hearing stories (from my Mom and mother in-law), some might say it was a much harder life, but if you didn’t know any better, I don’t think you’d notice. I look forward to hearing more from my Mom, we need to write these down! I can’t believe I’m in my 50’s and just now hearing some of these stories. Well, better late than never.