When I was little one of the things I really looked forward to doing was visiting my grandmother and grandfather who lived in Pennsylvania. They were my mom's parents and I affectionately called them Mum-mum and Pappy. Their nicknames weren't my doing as I was one of the youngest grandchildren but instead came from one of the older grandchildren and it stuck. All of the grandchildren called them Mum-mum and Pappy and it suited them completely.
Pappy was a quiet man and had traveled all the way to Ohio when he was a young man to go to barber school. He returned to his Pennsylvania home town that was a coal mining area and became the one and only barber in the very small town. Even though he was quiet, he was very well known and respected and would often barter his barbering skills for whatever the customer had to offer...maybe some vegetables, a chicken, a homemade pie or he would even extend credit.
The town was known for coal mining, and it wasn't a rich town. The people there worked very hard for every penny and everyone was very thrifty. My grandfather, Pappy, was a very good man and good to his neighbors and accepted whatever was offered for that shave and a haircut. He was never greedy. He was kind and caring, always. He was a good man and helped around the house. He tended his garden, which had snap beans, carrots, potatoes, radishes, corn and lettuce.
As a child, I would help him gather the ingredients for dinner each evening. My favorite was digging the potatoes. It was like a game with him....he would say, "Got one!". The trick was to not damage the potatoes with the spade as you were digging. It was simple and fun. Aside from his vegetable garden, Pappy had a passion for Zinnias. As far as I am concerned he grew the most beautiful Zinnias I have ever seen! The were straight and tall and he planted them in four rows along the sidewalk that ran up to the house. Every summer you could count on the red, yellow and orange sea of Zinnias. They were gorgeous and his pride and joy all summer long!
My grandmother, Mum-mum, was known for being the mid-wife of the town. I have no idea how many babies she brought into the world but I imagine it was quite a few even though the town was small. She was a slight woman who always wore a simple house dress with a belt. Her salt and pepper hair was cut short but as a young woman she had long flowing tresses. I know this because when she cut her hair she had the two-foot braid that was removed tucked in a metal box for posterity. That might sound odd in todays' times but it meant a lot to me as a young child. It was a memento of my Mum-mum whom I loved so dearly. Mum-mum was a dear, dear woman. She had a wonderful way about her and always took time for me. She showed me how to make egg noodles from scratch. She didn't have any fancy gizmo's to do this...she did it all by hand with her trusty rolling pin that I now have. For me it is a magic rolling pin because it was hers and she was a magical cook. She made everything from scratch and has always been my inspiration for being a good cook. Everything she made was done on a coal stove and everything was perfectly delicious.
The one thing that I loved about visiting Mum-mum and Pappy's home was the continuity. The green shingled two story house sat on a nice piece of land surrounded by hills that turned into small mountains. The land was divided into the area around the house that had lush green grass and all kinds of trees and flower beds as well as a vegetable garden, some woodland and several out buildings - namely a garage in the front and a barn in the back. Not to mention the ever so famous outhouse that was a two-seater! There was a well that connected to a hand pump in the kitchen and although indoor plumbing had been added when my mom was in her 20's the outhouse and the pump remained as they were from the older days. All of the rooms were always arranged the same, the house had that wonderful grandparents smell, the oatmeal raisin and cornflake cookies were always in the tin on the metal cart in the kitchen. Mum-mum's dusting powder sat on the cabinet shelf in the bathroom in the same place...always. It smelled absolutely like Mum-mum! There was a bowl of butterscotch candies on the bureau in the kitchen which was Pappy's favorite, and there was a shot glass of pennies on the kitchen window sill that could be counted endlessly, and a six pack of 7-Up by the treadle sewing machine in the alcove off the kitchen. A box of wooden blocks and a plastic sheet game board and extra large checkers sat in the closet in the dining room. A grandfather clock ticked away in the parlor and African violets lined the window sills in the sun parlor that had a wonderful built-in day bed and a two-seater burgundy leather sofa along with Mum-mum's oak desk.
This parlor was her room. She wrote her letters in this room...all long-hand letters, of course. And she made her phone calls on the black rotary dial phone with the assistance of the local operator whom Mum-mum knew personally. Mum-mum said her rosary in this room every day of her life as she was a devout Catholic. It was a very special room where Pappy and I used to play the card game, War, and naps were a wonderful thing while the sun sparkled through the windows even though the shades were half drawn.
Upstairs held three bedrooms. Of course, Mum-mum and Pappy had their room and then there were two other rooms for guests. Each room had wonderful windows that frosted up in the winter time but not to worry, Mum-mum had quilted heavy blankets for the beds to save you from the cold. There wasn't any heat in the upstairs unless some of the heat from the coal furnace in the basement happened to drift your way during the night. The rooms were simply decorated although in today's times you would know that all of the furnishing were incredible antiques! The one thing each bedroom had was a chamber pot. Most young people today wouldn't know what this is! But there was a white porcelain pot and lid with red trim in all of the rooms. These were in the bedrooms so you wouldn't have to go all the way downstairs and outside to the outhouse in the middle of the night in case you needed to go to the bathroom. So every morning, all of us would carry our chamber pots downstairs and empty them. You cannot believe how cold it can be in Pennsylvania in March, so I was all for the chamber pots!
Now there is one thing about visiting grandparents that is a given. When you visit them you visit all of the other family in the area. It is an endless visiting experience. Aunts, uncles, first-cousins and second-cousins and third-cousins! You never knew you had so much family. As a child, I have to admit, it was rather boring. All of the older people got together and talked about everyone else. Who was doing what and how were they doing and most importantly how were they feeling. I never quite understood the obsession with everyone and how they were feeling and their ailments. It was all about ailments, always. Aunt so-and-so had the gout, and uncle what's his name had arthritis and cousin whomever just got over pneumonia. It all sounded so crazy to me that all of these adults had nothing better to discuss than everyones illnesses and ailments. Until.....now. Now I totally get it.
I turned 50 not long ago and my main topic of discussion is what is hurting me today. I really didn't understand until it hit me like a ton of bricks! Ailments, although not interesting, are an important topic...at least to an older person. It's like comparison shopping...I have this...what do you have? What do you do about your problem? Can it help me? Who is your doctor? Can he or she help me? I didn't get it but now I SOOOOOoooooo get it! It really sucks to get older and have all of these aches and pains and it is very helpful to be able to commiserate with other people about it...you get some sympathy and some advice. That is a good thing when you get to this place!
One other thing I did really notice about older people...even though I was just a child when I was visiting my grandparents... was understanding that my grandmother was an older person. I know that sounds odd. But, think about it, do you really think about your parents being "older"? Don't you just think about them as your parents that are eternally your parents? You don't really think about them as being OLD. You just think about them as being your parents, right? BUT, on the other hand, if you are lucky like me, you had grandparents that you do think of as being older. Because they already were older when you came along. They had the gray hair and the wrinkles...something your parents didn't really have when you were a kid. Sooooooo, anywhoooo, I was kind of intrigued by my Mum-mum and Pappy because being one of the youngest grandchildren, they were old when I came along. They looked like grandparents should look. I admired them but I was fascinated and tickled by them too. It's like my Mum-mum would go to say my name but she would start with the oldest FEMALE grandchild and call out names until she got to mine. It was funny at the time...it's like Mum-mum why don't you know my name!?! Duh, I get it now and when you are older than 50 you will get it too! It's also like going into a room and forgetting why you went into the room in the first place! My grandmother used to do that alot. I didn't understand why. Now I do...I hate to admit! I have to stand there and think about why I walked into a room when I know that two seconds ago I knew exactly why I went that way. Getting older sucks!
But, believe it or not, my most favorite grandma memory, and it is specific to my Mum-mum, is her hands. Perhaps it is because I watched her bake and cook and make my Pappy's lunches so many times. I was intent on her every move that involved her hands so maybe that is why it sticks with me so intensely. I so remember her hands. One day, I touched her hands and I said, "Mum-mum you have chicken skin". I said this because the skin on the top of her hands was like chicken skin. You could pinch the skin between your fingers and lift it up and the skin moved so freely from side to side and up and down. It seemed weird to me as a youngster. Then not long ago I noticed the same thing on my own mom's hands....chicken skin again. I never saw my mom as getting older but then I saw the "chicken skin" and thought to myself, wow, mom is getting older. For me this whole chicken skin thing is a sign. Then, again, not very long ago, I looked at my own hands and there it was....chicken skin! It felt funny to me but I am a mom and I am a grandmother. So I guess that it is okay and goes with the territory. All I know is that if my "chicken skin" is as good as my Mum-mum's then I must be doing something right. She was an awesome lady and if I can be even one-fourth of what she was then I will be a happy woman.
Until next time,
Anne
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