Every time I retrieve glimpses of the past with Grandma, I re-member the meaning of those moments together from a new vantage point. I can't pick up knitting needles without thinking of her.
I’m like that with my grandma, as well. I knew her as being somewhat one-dimensional as a child, but her layers become more and more visible - and meaningful - as the years pass.
Absolutely! As an adolescent I heard if you want to work then avoid pregnancy. Lucky to have been born when I was because contraception became widely available. As a young working woman, I heard about the ways in which men discriminated against us in ways that reflected poorly on them. As a young widow, I heard love lasts forever.
This is such a beautiful story. And the knitted counterpane is gorgeous. Your grandmother had so much in common with mine. My grandma told me stories about her childhood when I was very young but all I remember is that they fed canned fruit salad to a raccoon out of their back door. I wish I could access the rest of those stories in my mind. When I was older everyone told me, “don’t ask grandma about the past because it will make her sad.”
I see Aunt Carol in Grandma's wedding photo and I see your sister Julie in the smile on Grandma's face in the picture with me. I think Grampa is more handsome than any of our dads! Barb tells me Aunt Jenny had the bedspread for 30 some years at their house in Golden Valley. Do you remember the two lamps on her vanity that were porcelain dancing ladies? Her lipsticks were in the left hand drawer, weren't they?
I don’t know whatever happened to those lamps. I’ll ask Barb if she has any idea. Before she went out in public, she’d sit at that vanity in her bedroom and appy a fresh coat of lipstick. Thin drawers on either side held things we weren’t allowed to get into as I recall. She would also pick up the hand mirror and check out the back of her hair in the vanity mirror. What do you remember about their bedroom? I think she kept the shades pulled.
I had an great-uncle Chicky. I thought that was his name. But it was John. When he was a kid he broke his foot and when he was wearing a cast his siblings said he jumped around like a chick. It stuck for the rest of his life.
I've come across so many great nicknames doing local history. Squid. Bucky. Bear Claw. I have a great-uncle named "Put." Put this here. Put that there. You get how he came to get his nickname.
That blanket! It's a beauty. So is this tender essay. When women couldn't enroll in painting or pottery classes, they were artists with their needles. I've framed a group of my grandmother's creations.
Framing your grandmother's creations is a wonderful way to recognize them as art. Aren'ts you glad to have them? Something about things which have been made the hands of your ancestors keeps their memories alive.
A story about a woman nicknamed "Tomato" simply has to be read! Great job! I also love that you all still cherish the blanket your grandmother knitted. Clearly using thin needles, it must have taken her forever to complete. She was a woman of perseverance for sure!
I remember the tiny needles she used to knit sox. A decade to complete, at least. And to have such consistency in the tension is a feat. Both my sisters and I are fairly accomplished knitters, but I don't think I could ever reach that level of craftsmanship. Knitting teaches patience and I still have more to learn. Unraveling I have mastered.
I'm glad you have these stories written down. I also wrote some of the stories my maternal grandma told me when she was a kid. The ones we love live on within those stories 💕
Me, too. I also found journal notes of conversations with Dad on the phone during his last few years about Grandma Swenson and her law office experience. Pull out those stories you wrote about your maternal grandmother and see what they prompt for you in an essay. You're a good writer!
I love these stories of your Gramma because they remind me of my own Grandmothers. Grandma Edna was raised in Chicago and then married a farmer from Missouri. She was a classical musician and created beautiful needlework art. I have her art displayed on a dark wooden bedroom wall.
I sleep in my maternal Grandma Margaret's bed. Grandma Margaret was from Toledo, and I think she's still be sleeping in the bed she shared with Grandpa if she hadn't lost her way in life and had to go to a nursing home for extended care. My mother gave Grandma Margaret's bedroom set to me. I didn't keep the dishes and saucers they prized when I was a kid, but I think my cousin had them for many years. Such beautiful memories and I love the photo of you with Meta. I've lived 17 years as a widow and still keep Vic's photo on my altar.
There is something soothing about the idea of sleepiing in your maternal grandmother's bed. A bed you had shared with Vic for many years like she had with your Grandpa. And to see your other grandmother's needlework hanging on the wall is another nod to the strong matriarchs in your family. Love lasts.
Thanks, Sondra. What questions would you ask? As I recall, you had a maternal grandmother who had quite a story as a widow who successfully ran a business.
The one you mention was engaged to four men at the same time. She did not tolerate them seeing other people, but she continued to do so. I didn't know about any of this until I read hundreds of letters the men wrote to her. I wonder if she knew the extent to which these men put their lives on hold for her. Was it ego? Just a game? I wish I'd asked. Everyone writes about warm, cuddly grandmothers, and she was certainly not stereotypical. But yes, she was not only an architect but knew the family construction business inside and out. She's the one I mention in the memoir who decorated our entire house in turquoise, purple, and hot pink.
Grandmas who bust the stereotypes are my favorite kind! The hardest part of famiily history research is determining what someone was thinking at the time or their motives. Juggling four fiances at once does beg many questions. BTW...My pre-order of your new memoir, NOT GOOD ENOUGH GIRL, arrived at my doorstep this morning! Congrats!
The O stood for "Oneida". She was my Dad's Mom. My other grandmother's first name was Sopha. That is how she spelled it. We called her Grandma Sophie, however. We didn't have any grandparents like you with vegetable nicknames. If you had known, you could have called your grandmother, Grandma Tomato!
Oneida. Do you know why that middle name was chosen? The Oneida were one of the tribes of the Haudenosaunee (upstate New York). There was also a spiritual commune there in the mid-1850s.
Furniture nickname for your other grandma: Sofa! [Sopha].
They’re always just “Grandma” to us, and then we look back and they’re so much more. Beautifully remembered, Jill. Thanks for sharing her with us.
Every time I retrieve glimpses of the past with Grandma, I re-member the meaning of those moments together from a new vantage point. I can't pick up knitting needles without thinking of her.
I’m like that with my grandma, as well. I knew her as being somewhat one-dimensional as a child, but her layers become more and more visible - and meaningful - as the years pass.
Absolutely! As an adolescent I heard if you want to work then avoid pregnancy. Lucky to have been born when I was because contraception became widely available. As a young working woman, I heard about the ways in which men discriminated against us in ways that reflected poorly on them. As a young widow, I heard love lasts forever.
This is such a beautiful story. And the knitted counterpane is gorgeous. Your grandmother had so much in common with mine. My grandma told me stories about her childhood when I was very young but all I remember is that they fed canned fruit salad to a raccoon out of their back door. I wish I could access the rest of those stories in my mind. When I was older everyone told me, “don’t ask grandma about the past because it will make her sad.”
Thanks, Donna. Your grandmother had a pet racoon! I haven't thought of canned fruit salad in years. I'm glad this reminded you of your grandmother.
Seeing that photo of Grampa and Grandma made me realize how much Carol looks like her Mom and Grampa is a fine combination of all three of his boys.
That knit bedspread is so beautiful, I don’t remember that! What a treasure!
I see Aunt Carol in Grandma's wedding photo and I see your sister Julie in the smile on Grandma's face in the picture with me. I think Grampa is more handsome than any of our dads! Barb tells me Aunt Jenny had the bedspread for 30 some years at their house in Golden Valley. Do you remember the two lamps on her vanity that were porcelain dancing ladies? Her lipsticks were in the left hand drawer, weren't they?
Grampa was very handsome, and I agree, the best looking of the bunch!
I remember the lamps, but not the lipstick. Does Barb have the lamps?
I don’t know whatever happened to those lamps. I’ll ask Barb if she has any idea. Before she went out in public, she’d sit at that vanity in her bedroom and appy a fresh coat of lipstick. Thin drawers on either side held things we weren’t allowed to get into as I recall. She would also pick up the hand mirror and check out the back of her hair in the vanity mirror. What do you remember about their bedroom? I think she kept the shades pulled.
What a stunning blanket.
I had an great-uncle Chicky. I thought that was his name. But it was John. When he was a kid he broke his foot and when he was wearing a cast his siblings said he jumped around like a chick. It stuck for the rest of his life.
I've come across so many great nicknames doing local history. Squid. Bucky. Bear Claw. I have a great-uncle named "Put." Put this here. Put that there. You get how he came to get his nickname.
Ha! That’s so funny. Great nicknames!
That blanket! It's a beauty. So is this tender essay. When women couldn't enroll in painting or pottery classes, they were artists with their needles. I've framed a group of my grandmother's creations.
Framing your grandmother's creations is a wonderful way to recognize them as art. Aren'ts you glad to have them? Something about things which have been made the hands of your ancestors keeps their memories alive.
A story about a woman nicknamed "Tomato" simply has to be read! Great job! I also love that you all still cherish the blanket your grandmother knitted. Clearly using thin needles, it must have taken her forever to complete. She was a woman of perseverance for sure!
I remember the tiny needles she used to knit sox. A decade to complete, at least. And to have such consistency in the tension is a feat. Both my sisters and I are fairly accomplished knitters, but I don't think I could ever reach that level of craftsmanship. Knitting teaches patience and I still have more to learn. Unraveling I have mastered.
Same here! I'm a fairly skilled knitter. But teeny tiny needles? Hell no!
I'm glad you have these stories written down. I also wrote some of the stories my maternal grandma told me when she was a kid. The ones we love live on within those stories 💕
Me, too. I also found journal notes of conversations with Dad on the phone during his last few years about Grandma Swenson and her law office experience. Pull out those stories you wrote about your maternal grandmother and see what they prompt for you in an essay. You're a good writer!
What a beautiful woman, a beautiful name, and amazingly beautiful craftwork!
Thanks, Rachael.
That blanket!
And, yes, the grandmother I knew secretly married my grandfather. She was a school teacher and couldn’t teach if she was married.
Oh, Grandma! Love breaks all the rules
I love these stories of your Gramma because they remind me of my own Grandmothers. Grandma Edna was raised in Chicago and then married a farmer from Missouri. She was a classical musician and created beautiful needlework art. I have her art displayed on a dark wooden bedroom wall.
I sleep in my maternal Grandma Margaret's bed. Grandma Margaret was from Toledo, and I think she's still be sleeping in the bed she shared with Grandpa if she hadn't lost her way in life and had to go to a nursing home for extended care. My mother gave Grandma Margaret's bedroom set to me. I didn't keep the dishes and saucers they prized when I was a kid, but I think my cousin had them for many years. Such beautiful memories and I love the photo of you with Meta. I've lived 17 years as a widow and still keep Vic's photo on my altar.
There is something soothing about the idea of sleepiing in your maternal grandmother's bed. A bed you had shared with Vic for many years like she had with your Grandpa. And to see your other grandmother's needlework hanging on the wall is another nod to the strong matriarchs in your family. Love lasts.
I wish I'd asked my grandmothers hundreds of questions. I loved this, Jill. Thank you.
Thanks, Sondra. What questions would you ask? As I recall, you had a maternal grandmother who had quite a story as a widow who successfully ran a business.
The one you mention was engaged to four men at the same time. She did not tolerate them seeing other people, but she continued to do so. I didn't know about any of this until I read hundreds of letters the men wrote to her. I wonder if she knew the extent to which these men put their lives on hold for her. Was it ego? Just a game? I wish I'd asked. Everyone writes about warm, cuddly grandmothers, and she was certainly not stereotypical. But yes, she was not only an architect but knew the family construction business inside and out. She's the one I mention in the memoir who decorated our entire house in turquoise, purple, and hot pink.
Grandmas who bust the stereotypes are my favorite kind! The hardest part of famiily history research is determining what someone was thinking at the time or their motives. Juggling four fiances at once does beg many questions. BTW...My pre-order of your new memoir, NOT GOOD ENOUGH GIRL, arrived at my doorstep this morning! Congrats!
Your grandparents and my grandparents were married on the same day in June, 1925!
What a coincidence. Were they married in Minneapolis? I'm guessing a Methodist Church?
No, they were married on my Great grand parents farm in South Dakota. ( now that I say that I do need to double check that.)
However my grandmother did have 1920s “ flapper” wedding dress like yours did .
Weren't those wedding dresses stylish?
The O stood for "Oneida". She was my Dad's Mom. My other grandmother's first name was Sopha. That is how she spelled it. We called her Grandma Sophie, however. We didn't have any grandparents like you with vegetable nicknames. If you had known, you could have called your grandmother, Grandma Tomato!
Oneida. Do you know why that middle name was chosen? The Oneida were one of the tribes of the Haudenosaunee (upstate New York). There was also a spiritual commune there in the mid-1850s.
Furniture nickname for your other grandma: Sofa! [Sopha].
Just lovely, Jill. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks, Lisa. Thinking of all the stories we shared on the shore of Lake Superior last fall as mothers, daughters, grandmothers, and aunties.
What a lovely piece. It's churning up some story ideas for me about my "ancestors". Thanks so much!
Thanks and I hope it serves as a writing prompt for your maternal ancestors!