Knowing Grandma J was a pure pleasure. Having spent fifty years on an isolated Kansas farm, she truly enjoyed her cushy life in town with a gas stove, refrigerator, and wringer washing machine. She’d raised eight wild boys and three girls. Though she’d lost a young baby early in her marriage, it had been so long she no longer mourned. She’d been widowed many years by the time I knew her, and was well- satisfied in her neat little house in town. Should one of her many children not come by, she could walk to the store, beauty parlor, or church. She had neighbors in or went to their kitchens for coffee.
Though she was built like a refrigerator on spindly legs, she was a very attractive lady. She always dressed in floral cotton dresses with a freshly-ironed apron tied around her waist. Her silvery hair was always softly curled. Should she be going out on a windy day, it was ensconced in a hairnet for summer or scarf for wind or cold. Before Grandma went out, she always donned a freshly ironed housedress and good apron, both of her own making. She always picked up her big black purse last thing before heading out the door.
She still adhered to many lifelong habits: washing on Monday, ironing on Tuesday, and baking bread and pies on Friday. It would have been a rare weekend to not have some of her huge family or to visit in their homes.
As you might expect, her house was filled with beautiful hand-made items, quilts, rag rugs, doilies, and embroidered dresser scarves, napkins, and tablecloths. We still have a pair of crocheted trivets she made us for a wedding gift fifty-three years ago.
As you can see, they are well-loved.
Nutsrok 