When I was a child, I had the good fortune to have not only my four grandparents, but also two great-grandparents nearby. Grandma Gladys was actually Great-Grandma Gladys, but we always just called her Grandma Gladys. She was Dad’s grandma, the mother of Grandpa Meril Dean. As with Grandpa Howard, who I have written about previously, Grandma Gladys died when I was still pretty young, so I didn't know her as well as I would have liked. There are a few things I remember, though.
The first thing that always comes to mind when I think of Grandma Gladys is her sugar cookies. She made the most wonderful sugar cookies I have ever eaten. She made them really big and they were always kind of flaky and crumbly and oh so delicious. I asked Brad and Bobbi what they remembered most about Grandma Gladys and they both mentioned the sugar cookies right away.
And not just cookies, it seemed like everything Grandma made was especially good. I remember her apple butter very clearly too. I loved her apple butter so much that she used to give me my own little jar. I also remember kolaches, round pastries with a dollop of pie filling in the center.
I have one memory that stands out very clearly in my mind. Bobbi and I had just gotten new winter coats. I think we were just on our way home from the store and we stopped at Grandma's house, which was on the way. It was still late summer and quite warm out, as I recall, but we had new coats and just couldn’t wait to wear them, also we wanted to show them off to Grandma. So we walked into her house wearing winter coats and short pants. Grandma said something like, "You're wearing coats and have your bare butts sticking out.” That was just deliciously funny to me and Bobbi, I think Mom even got a chuckle out of that. I don’t know why that scene stands out to me, probably because of the bare butt thing. You know how kids are.
The other things I remember about Grandma Gladys are jus fragments. She wouldn’t let you sit too close to the tv, and she always called the couch a davenport. That word always sounded so strange and exotic to me as a child. Grandma used to let us drink coffee which made us feel very grown-up. Of course it was really just a cup of milk with barely enough coffee in it to turn it brown. If you were feeling poorly, Grandma would press her lips to your forehead to see if you had a fever. That was always nice, Mom had to use a thermometer for some reason. Crazy new-fangled things anyway.
And the peacocks. There were two or three peacocks roaming freely around Grandma’s yard. I have no idea where they came from, they're hardly native to Nebraska, and I have no idea where they went after she died. They just kind of disappeared. It was always a special treat to pick up a peacock feather whenever they lost one.
Bobbi reminded me of the cracker barrel that always sat on Grandma’s counter. It was just a plastic container that said “cracker barrel” on the side and had a white lid. It always had crackers in it and was never empty. Bobbi also mentioned something that I never really thought of before. She said Grandma always wore dresses. I never thought much about it, but I think that’s right, Grandma never wore pants.
Brad actually surprised me a little when I asked him about Grandma Gladys, but I should have known. Brad is the oldest of us four kids, seven years older than me, and naturally would have the clearest memories. Where I was only eleven when Grandma died, Brad would have been eighteen. Here's what Brad had to say:
“Boy, I loved going over to grandma's house. I even rode my bike over there sometimes just to hang out. It seemed like she was always cooking. It didn't matter when you went over, it seemed like she always had her apron on in the kitchen. Of course, everybody remembers her sugar cookies. I remember she used to give me coffee to dunk them in but that's all I did. I couldn't drink it. I always hated the taste of coffee, even with milk. She taught me how to play pitch. I loved going over with dad in the mornings after irrigating when everybody was there. It seemed like everybody came over after the morning chores. Dad, Grandpa MD, Tom Mercer, Craig Nutter, all sitting around, drinking coffee and eating cookies or coffee cake. Those were the good ole' days.”
Those are pretty neat memories and I kind of envy Brad for them. I had forgotten about the card playing, the Brandt’s were always card players. You could always find a few decks in the coffee table drawer.
Gladys Opal Brogan was born on July 13, 1893 in Surprise, Nebraska. She married Grandpa, Albert Henry Brandt, on August 6, 1920, and she died on March 10, 1982 in Kearney , Nebraska. She was a very sweet old lady and I wish I could remember her better. We never truly appreciate the wonderful things we have in this life until they are gone. I am so thankful for the few items I have to remember her by: her oil lamp, which always had red oil in it, the painted mirror that always hung over her kitchen sink, and one of her wooden spoons that looks like it got a lot of use. In her own small way, she played a part in raising me up into the person I am today. I hope she will be remembered by many more generations of our family.
Psalms 103:17-18 But from everlasting to everlasting the LORD's love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children's children- with those who keep his covenant and remember to obey his precepts.
Psalms 79:13 Then we your people, the sheep of your pasture, will praise you forever; from generation to generation we will recount your praise.
Showing posts with label 1982. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1982. Show all posts
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Memories - Grandpa Howard
Okay, for a few weeks now I’ve really been wanting to write something about my Grandpa. Grandpa Howard, that is, who was Mom’s dad. I think he’s been on my mind because his birthday was December 11, close to my own. I never got around to it because there’s just been too many other things to write about lately. Then, right before Thanksgiving, Uncle Butch brought the wind-chime. I mentioned that briefly in an earlier post, but really wanted to tell more about it. The two things are closely related, though, so I can cover both with one blog. I kind of think Grandpa would have appreciated the efficiency in that. Read on!
The first thing that always comes to mind when I think of Grandpa, is the bucket. He had this plastic, bluish-green bucket, nothing special. The bucket had split all the way down one side and about halfway across the bottom. Instead of just throwing it away, he actually stitched it back together. Yes, I said stitched. He punched holes all the way along both sides of the split, then used little pieces of wire to fasten the two halves together. I can't imagine how much time he must have spent on that bucket, and I don't know what he used the bucket for after that. Obviously it wouldn’t hold water anymore. I’m sure he found a use for it though. All that work for a bucket that probably cost less than a dollar. That's the kind of guy he was.
Which brings me to the wind-chime. Grandpa Howard made the wind-chime himself. And he made it out of junk, hahaha. Seriously, though, he started with the metal rim of a paint can to suspend the chimes from. I can't remember what the clapper part was made from, but the wind-catcher part was just a flat piece of tin suspended from a rusty bit of chain. The chimes themselves were made from old shock-absorbers. He cut them to different lengths to give them different tones. The whole thing is held together by pieces of baling wire. An the coolest part is, that it really has a nice sound to it. Who would have guessed that old shock-absorbers could sound so nice. Anyway, I remember the chime hanging on the back of Grandma and Grandpa's house when I was very young, so that's what makes it so special to me. And the way he took all that junk and put it together into something that sounds so beautiful speaks volumes about the man.
Let me see, what else? Mom told me about his coveralls one time. He would wear these coveralls when he was working in his shop or around the yard. Mom told me that when they got a hole, he would patch them up. He would patch them and patch them, until they were nothing but patches. When he finally got a new pair, he would save the old ones to make patches out of. Wow, if only more people were like that. So many things in our lives have become disposable.
Are you starting to get a feel for what kind of man he was? God wants us to be goodand faithful stewards with the things He gives us, and Grandpa Howard is one of the best examples of this I have ever encountered. And he didn't do it because he was cheap or stingy, he did it because it was the right thing to do.
Grandpa Howard died in June of 1982, when I was only 11, making him the first of my four grandparents to pass. I was at church camp when it happened. Mom sent both of my brothers along with a family friend to BRING ME HOME. I remember my counselor walking me up to the dining hall at Camp Merrill, telling me that I had some visitors. That was odd because you didn't typically get visitors at camp, and when we got there I was pleased to see my brothers. I looked to Kevin right away and said "What are you doing here?" But it was Brad, the oldest, who took me aside. He leaned over with hands on knees and said, “Grandpa died last night; Grandpa Howard, and we're here to take you home.” As soon as he said the word “Grandpa”, I was thinking Grandpa Pete, (who was actually great Grandpa Pete, and quite old), but Brad clarified right away leaving me pretty stunned. I had always believed Grandpa Howard to be in very good shape for an old person, and he would have been my last guess. Anyway, I gathered up my things and we left. Mom knew what she was doing. She sent Brad to be the one to break the news, and she sent Kevin because she knew he could make me laugh. Which he did, all the way home. It was kind of a long drive. She also sent family friend, Dan, who was a pretty fun guy. I remember stopping for lunch at Pizza Hut on the way home.
When we finally arrived at Grandma’s house, Grandma said “Oh Steven, come here.” I went and sat on her lap, the only time I ever remember doing that in my whole life. I remember being afraid that I might hurt her because I was too heavy. My cousin Christopher, just a baby of 6 months, was crying and I remember Grandma saying, “I think babies can sense when something is wrong.”
And Christopher is the last part of the story. Of course, I didn’t know at the time, but have learned since how important it was to Grandpa for the Howard name to be carried on. Grandpa had two sons. One has never married to this day, the other married but waited until much later in life than usual to have children. My mother had four kids, but of course our names were not Howard. Anyway, little Christopher was finally born in January of 1982. Just six months before Grandpa died. I truly believe that was Grandpa’s reward for being such a good and faithful steward. He got to stay on earth just long enough to know his grandson a little bit.
What a shining example of how rich and full our lives can be, if we only put God first. I really didn’t know Grandpa Howard very long, and I was too young to appreciate the man he was, but he sure made an impact on my life. I wish I could have known him better, but I’m thankful for the time I had with him.
Luke 12:42 And the Lord said, Who then is that faithful and wise steward, whom his lord shall make ruler over his household, to give them their portion of meat in due season?
Matthew 25:21 His lord said unto him, Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.
The first thing that always comes to mind when I think of Grandpa, is the bucket. He had this plastic, bluish-green bucket, nothing special. The bucket had split all the way down one side and about halfway across the bottom. Instead of just throwing it away, he actually stitched it back together. Yes, I said stitched. He punched holes all the way along both sides of the split, then used little pieces of wire to fasten the two halves together. I can't imagine how much time he must have spent on that bucket, and I don't know what he used the bucket for after that. Obviously it wouldn’t hold water anymore. I’m sure he found a use for it though. All that work for a bucket that probably cost less than a dollar. That's the kind of guy he was.
Which brings me to the wind-chime. Grandpa Howard made the wind-chime himself. And he made it out of junk, hahaha. Seriously, though, he started with the metal rim of a paint can to suspend the chimes from. I can't remember what the clapper part was made from, but the wind-catcher part was just a flat piece of tin suspended from a rusty bit of chain. The chimes themselves were made from old shock-absorbers. He cut them to different lengths to give them different tones. The whole thing is held together by pieces of baling wire. An the coolest part is, that it really has a nice sound to it. Who would have guessed that old shock-absorbers could sound so nice. Anyway, I remember the chime hanging on the back of Grandma and Grandpa's house when I was very young, so that's what makes it so special to me. And the way he took all that junk and put it together into something that sounds so beautiful speaks volumes about the man.
Let me see, what else? Mom told me about his coveralls one time. He would wear these coveralls when he was working in his shop or around the yard. Mom told me that when they got a hole, he would patch them up. He would patch them and patch them, until they were nothing but patches. When he finally got a new pair, he would save the old ones to make patches out of. Wow, if only more people were like that. So many things in our lives have become disposable.
Are you starting to get a feel for what kind of man he was? God wants us to be goodand faithful stewards with the things He gives us, and Grandpa Howard is one of the best examples of this I have ever encountered. And he didn't do it because he was cheap or stingy, he did it because it was the right thing to do.
Grandpa Howard died in June of 1982, when I was only 11, making him the first of my four grandparents to pass. I was at church camp when it happened. Mom sent both of my brothers along with a family friend to BRING ME HOME. I remember my counselor walking me up to the dining hall at Camp Merrill, telling me that I had some visitors. That was odd because you didn't typically get visitors at camp, and when we got there I was pleased to see my brothers. I looked to Kevin right away and said "What are you doing here?" But it was Brad, the oldest, who took me aside. He leaned over with hands on knees and said, “Grandpa died last night; Grandpa Howard, and we're here to take you home.” As soon as he said the word “Grandpa”, I was thinking Grandpa Pete, (who was actually great Grandpa Pete, and quite old), but Brad clarified right away leaving me pretty stunned. I had always believed Grandpa Howard to be in very good shape for an old person, and he would have been my last guess. Anyway, I gathered up my things and we left. Mom knew what she was doing. She sent Brad to be the one to break the news, and she sent Kevin because she knew he could make me laugh. Which he did, all the way home. It was kind of a long drive. She also sent family friend, Dan, who was a pretty fun guy. I remember stopping for lunch at Pizza Hut on the way home.
When we finally arrived at Grandma’s house, Grandma said “Oh Steven, come here.” I went and sat on her lap, the only time I ever remember doing that in my whole life. I remember being afraid that I might hurt her because I was too heavy. My cousin Christopher, just a baby of 6 months, was crying and I remember Grandma saying, “I think babies can sense when something is wrong.”
And Christopher is the last part of the story. Of course, I didn’t know at the time, but have learned since how important it was to Grandpa for the Howard name to be carried on. Grandpa had two sons. One has never married to this day, the other married but waited until much later in life than usual to have children. My mother had four kids, but of course our names were not Howard. Anyway, little Christopher was finally born in January of 1982. Just six months before Grandpa died. I truly believe that was Grandpa’s reward for being such a good and faithful steward. He got to stay on earth just long enough to know his grandson a little bit.
What a shining example of how rich and full our lives can be, if we only put God first. I really didn’t know Grandpa Howard very long, and I was too young to appreciate the man he was, but he sure made an impact on my life. I wish I could have known him better, but I’m thankful for the time I had with him.
Luke 12:42 And the Lord said, Who then is that faithful and wise steward, whom his lord shall make ruler over his household, to give them their portion of meat in due season?
Matthew 25:21 His lord said unto him, Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.
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