Signora Sheila

My maternal grandmother was a wonderful grandma – with a great tolerance for children. Don’t get me wrong. I like kids. But not a dozen at a time, which Grandma often endured enjoyed during summer vacations.

But then, Grandma was a little crazy, in the best sense of word. She was funny, forgetful, and always doing dizzying things.

Maybe it was from being surrounded by kids most of her life. She came from a large family and raised 8 children of her own during the Depression years. Then there were the numerous grands and great-grands.

This may have contributed to her love of flea markets and garage sales. Grandma loved a bargain, and she was a hoarder. Not that she kept junk. It was all usable stuff, just too much to use!

Grandma’s two sisters who lived nearby were also quite giddy. Three fruitcakes loose in the streets. Their thrifting excursions were wild and hilarious, with frequent swigs from the brandy flask.

Grandma’s false teeth never seemed to fit well, so she often took them out and stuffed them in her purse. Only they didn’t always make it into her purse!

So the three sisters would go back looking for the missing teeth, asking everyone, “Did you find my teeth?” And somehow they always found them! Sometimes the home owner of the house would even come up to them with the teeth in a bag and say, “I know what you’re looking for!”

Like I said, Grandma was a little crazy, forgetful, and dizzy. Maybe it was all the children. Maybe it was the brandy. Or both!

She was also legally blind. Untreated glaucoma had left Grandma unable to see more than shadows and how bright the day was.

Yet, she didn’t seem to live in a land of shadows. She was mostly sunny and cheerful. When I think of Grandma, I don’t think of blindness. It was just a part of her.

She wasn’t the typical grandma of the 1950s and 60s, dressed in an apron and holding a wooden spoon. In fact, I never saw Grandma in a dress except in wedding pictures. And the only cookies in her house were store-bought. Almost always Nilla Wafers, almond windmill cookies, or cream-filled wafer cookies: chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry.

My Aunt Jackie, who lived in Minnesota, would bring her 5 older children to spend the summer with Grandma and Buddy (that was Grandpa’s nickname) in Michigan. All of us cousins loved it, and the rest of us were always begging to spend the night (or a few nights). So there were often 11 of us running around the house and yard.

One of our favorite activities was swimming in the Flat River that ran behind the property. But we always had a box of salt handy to pour on the leeches to get them off our feet and legs. Kids are willing to put up with a lot of nasty stuff.

Another was our “Happy Helpers Club,” which was mostly a flop. We couldn’t understand why the aunts, uncles, and grandparents didn’t want our willing help. We were probably better at making a mess than providing useful assistance. In the end, our good deeds consistented mostly of burying dead animals. Frogs, snakes, and the like. But we felt that were doing our part for society, and making a cleaner, better world.

Grandma was a heavy smoker, and often left cigarettes burning around the house. I guess she couldn’t see them. Also, as I said, she was a little dizzy and forgetful. We kids would dutifully go around and put them out, gently scolding her for this dangerous habit.

We loved to sneak these homemade cigarettes. We’d sneak them out of what was supposed to be a pantry off the kitchen. Although I never saw any food in there. It was mostly filled with junk and a rolling machine to make her cigarettes.

If we got caught, we’d be in big trouble. But that was nothing compared to how sick smoking made us feel. But my goodness, how grown up we felt. Only adulthood brought the knowledge that what we were doing was just plain stupid!

On rainy days, we would be upstairs, often all 11 of us, rummaging through the treasures. Grandma and Buddy were antique dealers, of sorts. Buddy had a reputation in our area for making great finds. Auctions, bird watching, playing pool and woodworking were his great passions. He also loved to fish and hunt (even in the winter), and almost always came home with a catch, even from his ice fishing trips.

He was also known as an excellent carpenter. The house I grew up in was filled with his creations. Fine kitchen cabinets, bookcases, and a grandfather clock. I think that’s where my love of clocks came from. The grandfather clocks and Grandma’s cuckoo clock.

But what I remember most about him was that he was kind, gentle, and patient. He hated gossip and when people criticized others, he’d say, “But for the grace of God, there goes I.”

The upstairs was a real treasure trove, at least for us kids. Filled with stacks of old magazines (mostly National Geographic), odd auction finds, and the antique dishes Grandma collected.

Uninhabited for the most part, the upstairs was our domain. Except during family gatherings when the men would all head upstairs for pool or poker games. Or when the occasional down-on -his-luck aunt or uncle moved in. Then, for some reason, our boisterous presence seemed unwelcome – how strange!

The pool table was a big favorite, and I must say we got pretty good at it! But we also loved to play with the stuff the aunts and uncles (there were 7 of them!) left behind. We set up shops and offices, and sold (at one time or another), insurance, Avon or Tupperware. Medical receptionists or book and antique dealers were other popular choices.

The old homestead was huge, and I remember 4 large bedrooms upstairs. Plus what I called the 2 “great rooms.” One held the pool table and lots of junk treasures. The other, filled mostly with junk, had a tiny low door where you could bend down and enter a low, dark and scary storage area. I never liked going into that room or down into the equally creepy basement.

The upstairs of this big old house was the perfect setting for indoor make-believe. One room for the insurance agent, another for the Avon business, and so on. Occasionally we would turn it all into a boarding house, complete with boarders, maids, and make-believe cooks. We did have real snacks though, from the huge garden, or the never-ending supply of cookies! We also enjoyed rhubarb stalks dipped in sugar; great for the teeth!

Sunday family gatherings were the norm. After church and Sunday school, we’d put on our play clothes and head over the river and through the woods in our big old station wagon (many of our cars, it seems, were wagons) to Grandma’s house. And oh, the food!

And then there were the cleaning parties. Every year, all the ladies (young and old) got together to give the old place a good cleaning. Grandma’s blindness prevented her from doing certain things. Especially climbing up to wash her collection of over 300 teapots on the ceiling-height shelves that lined the entire kitchen. Oddly enough, Grandma didn’t even like tea!

The teapots were cute and interesting though, and I guess that appealed to her. I still have some of Grandmaps teapots.

She couldn’t see well enough to do it herself. But once someone took her to the first booth at a flea market, she was able to make the rounds on her own. And was able to buy all those teapots, glass slippers, and a myriad of other collectibles!

It may seem strange to call cleaning a party. But we had a blast. I remember, even as a teenager, all the fun, the laughter, and the frequent coffee breaks. And the wonderful feeling of that sparkling kitchen and Grandma’s grateful smile!

What a shame that so many families today seem disconnected or separated by distance. It sometimes seems that our progress as a nation has made us miss out on so much. And often turned our values upside down.

Mine was a simple childhood. And for the most part a blessed one. We knew how to make our own fun. We basked in the warmth of a large and loving family. Not without its share of bickering, to be sure. But a family that came together, played together, and often worked together.

And I wouldn’t change a thing.

📷 Image credits: woman cleaning; others are mine.