Grandma Telling Stories of the Past

My Papa used to tell SO MANY stories of growing up in South Dakota, traveling out west, and settling in Seattle. In addition he had oodles of zany escapades recounting our crazy family history.  When he was around I thought I'd NEVER forget these nuggets of history, but now...they're hard to recall unless I'm with family and we jog each other's memories.  Oh how I wish I would have captured them!

Recently I went out to lunch with my Grandma, kids and cousin.  My Grandma began telling a story about settling in the Rainier Valley of Seattle.  I quickly changed the camera mode to record and tried to capture a bit.  I wish I would have gotten more, but it's inspired me to try in the future.

Here's the little tidbit I caught.  It's only about two minutes, but so rich in memory-making.

Almond Cake

If you're looking for a buttery, rich, dense, great with a cup of coffee kind of cake...look no further!

Field Tripping with Grandma: The Mission at San Juan Capistrano

"When the swallows come back to Capistrano," Grandma began singing when I told her we'd be heading to San Juan Capistrano to field trip at the mission. Interestingly enough, this song was written and released in 1939 when my Grandma was 13 years old.  This is the same age as our oldest son.  It's fun to think of my little grandma as a 13 year old girl singing this song.

Grandma Gets Her First Mani & Pedi

We are blessed to have Grandma visiting once again.  She arrived late last night and we're already filling our days with good times.

Today after schooling, a trip to the Goodwill, and swimming I asked Grandma if she'd like to go for a manicure and pedicure.  At first, she looked at me with surprised eyes and then shook her head, "No."  I asked why not and then asked if she took good care of her nails and toes.  She proceeded to take off her white tennis shoes and socks, which are on from sun-up until she climbs in bed, to show me her little feeties.  One glance and I said, "We're going in."

The Vest

I hate The Vest.  There are few things in life I really dislike to the point of using the "H" word, but the vest is one of them.

First off, I should explain The Vest.  Like many Washingtonians, my Grandma has a fleece vest.  I don't even know how many years she's worn the vest.  It's like it's always been.  My Grandma...The Vest.

Being from Washington, fleece is the fashion wear of choice.  It's warm.  It seems to wick the rain.  It's easy to find.  It hides unwanted pounds.  The benefits are countless.

I'll admit, before moving to California I had a red, boxy, unflattering fleece pull-over that was like a security blanket.  No matter what size I was, the fleece covered it.  I could be 40 pounds heavier, wear the fleece and no one knew the difference. The fleece was cozy, and warm, but it was also unflattering, worn and tired. Despite some reservations, I moved it out and surprisingly haven't missed it.

I realize people have favorite clothes they continue to wear despite how they look. I'm sure the What Not To Wear folks would have a heyday in my closet!  There are those favorites that are just so cozy, you can't help but wear at night or when it's cold outside.  I have a pair of awful, yet cozy, black, fleece hammer pant sweats. They are completely unflattering, but on a chilly day, I'll wear them to the gym along with my REI blue mountain socks. I know the combo is a fashion faux pas, but they're comfortable and cozy and nothing else seems to matter.

Like my red fleece pull-over or black hammer pant sweats, my Grandma has a tan, tired, old, worn-out, dingy, boxy, unflattering, did I mention ugly, fleece vest.  She loves this piece of clothing.  She loves that it has "inside" pockets. Inside pockets are the backs of outside pockets that have to have a place to go.  She stashes her phone in her "inside pocket" when she walks with her senior friends.  She wears little angel pins on the collar in memory of family members who have passed away. Along with the vest, she wears a white, long-sleeve, ribbed turtleneck.  She actually owns three identical white turtleneck sweaters.  The white sweaters, along with the fleece vest, a pair of light blue jeans and white Easy Spirits equals "The Uniform."

This photo was taken years ago.  The uniform with a blue ribbed turtleneck.

She's worn this uniform for years and she LOVES it!

Last Christmas when she visited, I took her shopping looking for a replacement vest. We searched high and low from Macy's to Eddie Bauer to JCPenney and beyond, but there was no vest to be found that was roomy enough and met the "inside pocket" criteria.

We did find her a couple new ribbed turtleneck sweaters to offer her some different color options.  I doubt she's ever worn them.  My guess is they are folded beautifully in her drawer along with the MANY other beautifully folded, new sweaters we've tried to introduce into her wardrobe.

Prior to her visit, I called her to let her know I planned to take her to see Andrea Boccelli and Dr. Phil.  We had to discuss wardrobe requirements and ideas. According to the Dr. Phil show guidelines, audience guests were asked not to wear white as it doesn't show up well on camera.  In addition, the fleece vest isn't Andrea Boccelli material, so she needed to bring some more options.

With my mom's help, she packed some very cute dressy clothes.  Thank you mom!  I was secretly hoping "The Vest" wouldn't make the trip down to SoCal, but that was a lot to ask for.

I spoke with my mom the morning of my Grandma's flight.  My mom told me, "She'll be there in her uniform.  She's so excited!"

The Vest was coming back for it's third Christmas in SoCal.

Bummer!

When we picked my Grandma up she was wearing her light blue jeans, white Easy Spirits, white turtleneck and gray coat.

We went out to lunch, stopped by the Goodwill (her favorite place), and then headed home.

She unpacked and settled in.

She then came to me and asked where she had put her vest.

I hadn't seen the vest at this point, and hadn't even missed it.

She searched multiple times through the car and her suitcase, but did not find the beloved vest.

She thought she definitely left the vest hanging in the restroom of the airport.

I called.  No vest.

I didn't want to celebrate the vest's demise, but I strongly feel everything happens for a reason. Just like the time our son spit his pacifier down a flushing toilet and it was bye-bye binky; it was time to break the bond with the vest.  It was meant to be!  The vest was gone.

Sadly, she was torn up about the vest.  A couple times while sitting in the rocker thinking she'd say, "I sure miss my vest."

Poor Grandma, she did love that vest.

When she left I went on a shopping hunt.

I found a PERFECT, new, black, Columbia fleece vest WITH inside pockets.  I took a photo of it; emailed it to my mom.  We had thought we found the PERFECT replacement that my Grandma would love!

I packaged it up and shipped it out.  She would be so surprised!  I was excited!

THEN, I got the call.

My heart sank.

The Seattle airport had found her vest.

RATS!

I guess the super-cute, black fleece vest I got her will sadly join the bowels of her drawers folded neatly alongside the other perfectly folded new clothing we've all bought her over the years.

The Vest is back.

Do you have a favorite piece of clothing like my Grandma's vest that you know you shouldn't wear, but it just feels too good?

Maybe 2012 is a good year to spruce up the wardrobe and move out those pieces that have served their time.  Let them rest.  Find something cute and flattering and say good-bye to tired and worn.

Grandma and Andrea Boccelli

This is my Grandma.

Someone should write a book of her life.  

It wouldn't be a romantic story of a charmed life.  

It also wouldn't be a woe-is-me story of crappy life events creating a pitiful life saga of a victim.  

Hers would be a story of perseverance, family, hard work and a whole lot of feisty sassiness.  These traits  helped her overcome real-life tragic events making her a strong, resilient, 85-year old mother of four, grandmother of fifteen (at least), and great-grandmother to about eighteen children.

Despite her bent arthritic fingers, my grandma has the most enduring strong work ethic you'll ever encounter.  I truly admire her. She can still clean, weed, garden, and do laundry better than anyone reading this.  It's the TRUTH!

I also admire her sense of family loyalty.  She's the Queen Mama Bear.  It is my heritage!  Don't mess with Mama Bear or Grandma Bear or you may just have a knock-down-drag-out on your hands.

Looking at her tiny frame, yet strong appearance it's hard to imagine the hardships of life she's experienced.   

She was born in Minnesota to Native American parents.  Losing her mother and baby sister to tuberculosis and contracting it herself, she was sent to a sanitarium to live for three years, from ages 5-8.  While at the sanitarium she did not see nor have visits from family or friends.  I can't even begin to imagine the pain of separation she experienced.

She survived tuberculosis, only to return to her reservation to be once again separated from family.  According to government policy of the time, Native American kids were shipped off to government schools.  Life there was challenging and disheartening to say the least.  She was forced to deny her native heritage and forbidden to speak her native language.

Depending on the year, she was at various government and/or Catholic schools until she was 16.  During the school year, she wouldn't see family until summer.  During the summers she would return home to be care-giver to her half-sister's family. Because of her strong work ethic and survival skills, she was more valuable as child-care-provider to the kids than a student.  

Despite being only 16-years old and a flourishing student, during World War II, she was pulled out of school put on a train by herself and sent west to Seattle to become a nanny to her niece.  

I'm told during this experience she was scared and shy.  She was placed on a train filled with soldiers in uniform.

Why did they send her?  

She was told she was ambitious.  She had no choice, but work.

Being ambitious, hard-working, and driven doesn't come from having everything handed to you.  It comes from discipline, doing without, trials, and overcoming them.  I think we have a heritage of determined hard working people.  We're raised this way.  

I'm so proud to be the worker I am because of the blessed heritage I've been given.

Little tidbits of her life come out when you spend time with her.  On her recent visit she told me she had a beautiful sister.  Hollywood came looking for her sister, but she wouldn't leave her home.  Interesting.  

My Grandma did have a first cousin, Floyd Red Crow Westerman who was in the film industry.  He was a country music singer, actor and activist.  She was very sad when he passed away.  I look at photos of him and see a family resemblance.

Floyd Westerman

I was blessed to spend last week with my Grandma.  She flew down to spend seven days with us.  I wanted to do all I could do to make our time special and memorable for her.

She loves watching Andrea Boccelli on PBS.  I thought she'd appreciate seeing him in concert.

He had a scheduled performance in Anaheim at the Honda Center.

I bought tickets and asked her to bring some nice black clothing.  We were going see Andrea Bocelli in person.  After watching him, I realized it was not just a concert; it was an "experience!"

Words cannot describe how cute she was!  She was ready to go at 4:00pm.  The concert started at 7:30.  I told her we didn't need to leave that soon.

We still left early.

Ready to go

She's so cute!

The empty stadium

Entertaining ourselves while waiting for the concert to begin

We shared popcorn while we waited.  

Popcorn and Andrea- what could be better?

The orchestra arrives

Our neighbors took this for us

The music was indescribable!  My sweet grandma had to wipe a tear from her eye a time or two.  When music brings you to tears you know it's beyond special.

My grandma told me she used to love to sing opera when she was young.  She said in school they sang in Latin.  She doesn't remember it now because so many years have passed.

I hope singing along with Andrea made her feel like she felt as a child desiring to become an opera singer.  

Hoping she was able live the dream...in little ways.