March 27, 2013 Greetings My Friend, I am at my morning time quiet routine and I begin to think back. Yesterday at my nieces house my sister started pulling out her bottom teeth and sticking them out at her granddaughter. My mind went right away to Grandma C. She was widowed before I was born and we often took her on trips with us. Grandma loved to do that trick when we’d get a little overly cranky. We’d start laughing and soon life wasn’t as bad as we thought it was. I loved Grandma C so much. I loved her stories. She told them every chance she got. They were about when she was a child and having no mother and how they all got through the rough times. I loved them. I almost felt like I knew my Great Grandfather because her stories became that familiar to me. Grandma quit school in the 6th grade so she could work in the school cafeteria. Great Grandpa let her because she was a girl and men supported the women and she would not need an education. As a child of the 60’s I was blown away. Because she was a girl she did not need an education? As I grew older though I began to see that was went on in the early 1900’s. I met my Great Grandfather in these stories and I found a man who loved his family dearly even if he sounded so rough to me. He tried to hire women to help with the kids, keep the house clean and the like. The kids kept running the women off. Finally Grandpa left the kids at home while he went to work. Oh I always want to cry when I think of the year the kids got head lice. Great Grandpa shaved their heads and sent them back to school. The girls were bald and I cringe. He did what he knew to do with what he had to deal with. I t seems mean and then there is a part of me that begins to understand. Of course I can’t think of Great Grandpa without thinking of how after his wife died and Grandma was so scared at night and he tied a string to her toe and the other end to his so Grandma could tug on the string if she woke up at night. He then knew to come in to comfort her. That rough sounding man had a very tender spot for his children even in his grief. As a young mother I found myself visiting Grandma while my son was in preschool. It was near her house and a visit meant we’d drink tea and eat cheese curls. It was precious. Grandma’s eyes were real bad because she had measles as a child and it affected her eyes. I loved walking in and seeing Grandma’s eyes behind her real thick lenses. They always lit up when I entered the room. Soon I was giggling at her stories. For Grandma humor was how to cope with the struggles of life and she seemed to make just about everything funny. Grandma was part of all family gatherings. We had her over for the holiday’s and she often went on summer vacation with us. I was the one who got to sleep beside Grandma in the camper we had. I did not wet the bed so I got it by default. I am now a Grandmother and I’ve longed to tell the stories. You know the time my son or my daughter….My son always had head hair in the mornings and it was precious. He had so many struggles as a child. We’d find out one only to learn he had more. At three he could not talk. I’d tell the doctor over and over and the doctor thought I was spoiling my child. I remember holding out a cookie telling him to say cookie. I finally gave up when he was in tears. As the years went on we found he had hearing problems. Not an everyday situation. He had it often enough to need tubes put in his ears. The tubes weren’t staying in as well. So his hearing was good some days and not on other days. When we had the ear problems figured out then we discovered the boy could barely see. That was strange to realize because he was riding a two wheeler at 4. Then one day we went for a walk and I saw a dog across the street and I pointed it out to my son. He could not see the dog. I felt horrible. We were so focused on his hearing problems that I did not realize he could not see. Add allergies to that and I felt like I was constantly trying to puzzle what else was wrong with my child. I also had a lot of people tell me I was overly protective. I guess in some ways I was. Each time though it proved that he needed me to be because he had major problems. My son entered into speech therapy at age 3 and at age 9 he was finally up to speed with his language skills. I always knew to get his ears checked when he called his friend Jeremiah, Germy. That meant he could not hear well and we needed to go get more tubes put in. I want to tell these stories to pass on the family history. In Grandma’s telling I learned that my Great Great Grandmother had serious hearing problems. Grandma did as well. So I began to see the family struggles with hearing. The stories told me about my background of where I came from and what our family was made of. I loved that. My sister and I are the first generation to be divorced. We both picked very poor marriages the first time. I am sad but it is what it is. Our second marriage though has been a strong union. I’d like to share with the gdrandkids about picking out a mate. I’d like to teach them that no one has a right to hit you no matter how annoying you are. I have not been given the chance to tell the stories. I tend to tell them in my writings though. So if some future relative wants to know them I’ve put them down. The stories may never go to another. I am ok with that as well. I left them behind and that is all I can do. What is your story? May God bless you and keep you, make His face to shine upon you. Love Janet