Grandpa's Birthday

They say women marry men who are like their father. I can't say this has been obvious to me in the past but it might be possible; I need to consider this a bit more. The thought crossed my mind the other day that Bill was a lot like Grandpa: kind, patient, a tinkerer, someone who loves good, well made clothes for a very long time, sociable, a do-er more than a thinker.

Grandpa's father was a blacksmith. I remember reading or hearing somewhere that blacksmiths had an important position in their community, in part because they tended to be quite strong men who mastered fire and metal, but mainly because they were the makers of the tools that all the other craftspeople relied upon having. They were also frequently the repair shop for many household goods.  Not to mention that horses were the made mode of transport of their day and they were the source of horseshoes. The 1880 census says that Grandpa's father was a plough smith, so he was supporting the source of food. The 1900 census tells us he was now called a blacksmith, also that he immigrated from Germany in 1868, at the age of 27. He was 53 and his wife, Catherine 40, when Grandpa was born.

Grandpa's mother died when he was 11, in 1905, and his father when he was 17, in 1911 (and I thought I was young when mine died: 32 and 34). He was the youngest of eight children.  Three of Grandpa's siblings died before he was born: a girl aged one, another girl aged 16 (along with her twin babies) and a boy aged three. The rest of the family reached maturity. The last to die was Grandpa's eldest brother, John, who predeceased Grandpa by 10 years. I was seven years old when John died and I remember Grandpa being very sad. He said the John had largely raised him. 

I always count myself very lucky to have had Grandpa in my life. He is still one of the best men I've ever known.

Grandpa's Birthday

We had a great time with Sarah, Bill's youngest, her husband and their toddler, Struan, this past weekend. I get the name 'Grandma Shelley', which is indeed an honour. I tried to tell Bill what contentment I got from Struan's reaching out to hold hands as he walks - still a bit unsteady - and from pushing him in his swing at the park. Bill doesn't seem to differentiate being my getting to be a grandma - which I'm not - and my getting to do Grandma things, which is how I see it. It was great fun. Never mind about all that, Gareth was still able to pretend he's interested in the story about my Dad's adoption and I found myself explaining why I could believe he was adopted: Grandma and Grandpa were the only normal people in my family, so of course it makes sense we aren't genetically related.

I was thinking of Grandpa earlier last week when I donned an old flannel shirt to go out blackberry picking, or 'brambling' as some folks call it. The shirt belonged to a previous husband and gets dragged out for hair colouring, house painting and other rough work, which is not to say I don't value the fabric. If I didn't it would have been burned long ago. Oxford shoes, woollen trousers and checked flannel shirts were Grandpa's winter uniform.

Grandpa's careful thrift, his endless patience and his tidy ways are still ideals to which I strive (when I'm not trying to channel my Mom's artistry or Grandmother's outspokenness). Also, it turns out, his super-strength - I must have exhausted him and Grandma when I came along! Bill and I slept most of the next two days after they returned to Edinburgh.

Back of photo: "Jack at Idlewild"

Grandpa's Birthday

I'm in Germany just now, with limited internet and - even worse - only my tablet to peck on. In spite of this, I've been thinking about Grandpa, who was of German ancestry, and wanted to remember his special day. He has been gone 40+ years, but he is far from forgotten.

You can read more about him by clicking on Grandpa B in the index on the right.

Grandpa's Birthday

Grandpa was born on this date in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in 1894, during what came to be called the Gilded Age.  The name came from a book by Mark Twain, published in 1873, calling attention to the major social problems of the day which had been, rather than 'whitewashed', 'gilded' over. It was a period of great wealth for a few, mostly related to development of the railways, but also of great poverty for many. I do worry some times that we are heading back in that direction; I hope I'm wrong.

The year before Grandpa came along, there was the Panic of 1893. I read an excellent book by John Kenneth Galbraith when we were in Budapest, in July this year. I realise The World Economy Since the Wars sounds terribly dry, but I actually found myself reading out bits to Bill and we had loads to talk about and even laughed. I can't recommend it highly enough. It explains - in very readable terms - so much that we all ought to understand. For example, the terms 'panic' (which sounds very tabloid-extreme), 'depression' and 'recession' are all exactly the same thing. The names change as the politicians try to make it sound less serious than it is.

Grandpa was the youngest of nine children. His father was a blacksmith who made ploughs. Grandpa's mother died when he was 10, his father when he was 17. 

Grandpa in 1960-something.

The 1890s were also referred to as the Gay Nineties (in Britain they called it the Naughty Nineties) though things don't sound like they were all that wonderful. The 'hilarity' - because that's what gay meant back then - seems to relate to the writing of Oscar Wilde, the art of Aubrey Beardsley (art nouveau!) and the beginnings of the suffragette movement. 

Of course, a person doesn't really register much until they are much older. I think I may only have started paying attention to the world more when I was about 16. Grandpa would have been 16 in 1910. The census shows that his father, John (aged 69), was a still a blacksmith. His brother, Peter (21), worked as a butcher in a shop. His 28 year old sister, Clara and her 7 year old son, Johnny, lived with them. She had been widowed after only a couple of years of marriage; her son was only one at the time. My dad used to talk about his cousin, Johnny. 

I found some images for 'life in Minnesota in 1910' that are rather evocative and make me better appreciate the broad life experience Grandpa had during his 78 years (1894-1973); the world changed a great deal during his lifetime. 

On a slightly different tangent, Norma (my 2nd cousin) just lost her husband, Art. He passed away at the end of August at the age of 86. They were married for 62 years. I've written about our visits with them. I only spent perhaps a dozen days with Art, if that, but he was lovely. I really enjoyed his company not just because he was kind and interesting but also because his mannerisms and his speech reminded me so much of my Grandpa. 

That little boy, Johnny, who lost his father when he was only 1? He was Norma's father. She was the one who told me the whole family called my Grandpa 'Jake' (short for Jacob), not just my Grandma. Everyone else called him Jack. He and Grandma were married for 60 years. 

I was thinking the other day about 'family traditions' - about traditions of any kind. After listing the obvious holidays, birthdays and anniversaries I was noticing there weren't many we tend to observe in late summer/early autumn. Then I realised that three birthdays fall in September, Grandpa's, Grandma's and Rita's. I was thinking about them and trying to encapsulate what sorts of things each of them loved to do, things they appreciated, things that reminded me of them. My remembrance posts have become a tradition for me for all sorts of reasons, mostly because I'm really grateful I had such loving family members. Not everyone does.

So, sometime in September, I plan to do these things in remembrance of Grandpa:


- Read Mark Twain's The Gilded Age:  A Tale of Today

- Learn more about Aubrey Beardsley and his art

- Make a meatloaf (one of his favourite meals) from one of Grandma's cookbooks, using Grandma & Grandpa's meat grinder

- Play more cards! Grandpa and I spent hours playing spades and hearts, also checkers. He was always very proud when I was able to beat him. I made Bill play gin rummy with me when we were on one of our motor home trips earlier this year (can't remember if it was Budapest or Barcelona). I beat him fairly regularly, which is no way to get him to play more is it? I have a book of card games and we'll have to find one that we can learn together. I love playing cards; Bill only seems to love Spider on his computer...

- Look for some flannel shirts, wool trousers and/or black brogue shoes.

Do you have any traditions to do with your departed family members?

Grandpa's Purse

Actually this isn't Grandpa's purse, it belonged to Bill's mother, Ella.  Made of wool fabric, it has two pockets (I have cash in one, cards in the other) and a 'kissing clasp' closure. I never knew what that was called until recently. It's the shape and the kissing clasp that remind me of Grandpa; his was brown leather and had only one pocket in which he kept his change.

I'm not usually one to count out exact change, not wanting to delay the queue behind me. I remember as a child often seeing Grandpa count out his change and I grew up thinking of this practice as 'being careful' with your money.  Though he and Grandma lived off their Social Security (as did Mom and Daddy - quite possible if your house is paid for, or it was then), they left a bank account with $7,000 (I have the statement in Grandpa's old banker's box).

This is a birthday remembrance of my Grandpa, who was born 120 years ago (gosh that makes me feel old!)

Patchwork Chair Covers

I don't think I've ever shown you my kitchen chair project. I started this project last January (yes, 2013). Our kitchen chairs are two pairs:  one set belonged to my Grandma & Grandpa B, the other set belonged to Bill's Aunty Mary Polly. You could be forgiven for thinking that the 'before' picture was of Bill's walking boots instead of the faded blue print of G&G's chair; you can barely see the brown and peach brocade of AMP's chair.  I must have been in a real hurry that day?

'Before'

Anyhow, besides being the wrong colours my chairs were like sitting on a board, the stuffing was so flattened. The loose webbing on Bill's chairs made it like sitting on a donut.  

In my usual fashion, rather than go buy fabric, I decided to use up some of my mountain of fabric scraps to make up patchwork pieces for coverings. Many of these fabrics frayed and so I overlocked the edges, which meant the project took me quite a while to complete. Even so, the patchwork fabric was ready for ages before the project moved on.  



Bill did such a great job on the dining room chairs, I thought he should be the one to take care of the padding part of this project.  Besides, joint projects are more fun. Also, while my chairs were quite straightforward in their construction, his were more complex and I didn't want to mess his up.  So, when I was in Nice on my own last summer, I left Bill a 'to-do' list to keep him out of trouble; this padding job was on that list and he duly addressed it.

Real-life photos with power drill, laundry basket,
Bill's walking shoes drying by the radiator...maybe they live there in January?

When we returned from France in September we both took ill and other things seemed to get in the way. I made Thanksgiving my deadline for finishing this job.  In the event, it took less than an hour most of which was fiddling with the staple gun. 




They aren't perfect, but I'm happy with them.  They are quite comfy now and the colours coordinate with the kitchen's white and red walls, the black and brown counter and the beige-y floor.  

  

Two more things that need to happen are to experiment on some other similar fabric with stain-repellent  or water proofing and decide what to do with the wood of my Grandparent's chairs - the square ones above.  Bill doesn't want to paint his, which I understand.  I may decide to paint Grandma and Grandpa's or to find a way to stain them so they are more similar to Bill's.  

Any suggestions?

Grandpa's Birthday

I think about Grandpa fairly often lately, particularly about how orderly and frugal he was, though I don't think he considered himself to be anything other than fulfilling his responsibility.  He spent his money carefully but I remember trips to buy ice cream or a hamburger at McDonald's (long before the advent of happy meals).   His and Grandma's little two-bedroom house had everything they needed. They didn't hoard anything 'just in case'.  I don't even remember them stocking up during the sales. They bought what they needed as they needed it.  Things that could be mended were repaired; those that couldn't be mended or re-used were discarded.  Everything had a designated place.  They didn't have the latest technology, but what they had worked fine.  The closets weren't crammed, the car fit into the garage, there was nothing in the attic.  I didn't even know they had an attic until I was moving to Utah and we were clearing the house in preparation to rent it.  It was a loft space accessible only from the garage.  

I know some people who are frugal and I know a (very) few people who are tidy and organised, but I'm not sure I know many people who could live so nicely on as little as they did.  

Happy Birthday, Grandpa.

Grandpa's Birthday

I had two thoughts when writing this post.  One was that colder weather is coming and I wished I had some of Grandpa's flannel shirts to wear.  I may go thrifting to see if I can find any flannel shirts.

The other, as I read previous posts about his birthday to see what photos I'd already used, was a sense of lost innocence.  When I wrote those other posts I hadn't yet learned that my Dad was adopted.   I have all sorts of sad and angry emotions about this still, but Grandpa is still my Grandpa and he always will be. 

{Bill is laughing at the sound of me blowing my nose as he brings me a cup of coffee and a fresh handkerchief.}

Happy Birthday, Grandpa.

It's Grandpa's Birthday Again

I mentioned before that Mom admired Grandpa's profile.  She always said he had a "Barrymore profile", but I never really knew what that looked like until now.  I think she wasn't too far off the mark after all.

Happy Birthday, Grandpa!

Baking for Grandpa

Today is Grandpa's birthday. I've been thinking about what were his favourite foods. I know he was partial to meatloaf.


Then again, he was known to be a fair baker, mainly of cookies. We'll have to vote on this -- meatloaf or cookies?

Happy Birthday, Grandpa!

43 Things about Grandpa

1. He was born 10 September 1894, probably in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

2. He was named Jacob, but generally went by Jack. Grandma's pet name for him was Jake. When I found a distant cousin on the Internet recently, she said she remembered her Dad talking about his Uncle Jake. I gather Jake was the family's pet name for Grandpa as well.

3. Grandpa's family was Catholic, though I never knew him to attend that or any other church. He was the youngest son in a family of 9 children. His parents were 53 and 40 when he was born.

(Grandpa is in the middle)

4. Grandpa's father (John/Johannes) was a blacksmith/ploughsmith. He was from Wierweiler, near Weiskirchen in Saarland Germany. In looking at a German genealogical website, I found Grandpa's surname was only listed in this area, so I'm likely related to most of all of them, but I've not yet figured out how. Grandpa's mother, Kate, was also of German descent. She was born in Chicago, Illinois, but I've not found anything else about her or her family. I remember Grandpa saying the Lord's Prayer to me in German when he tucked me in, but he only ever taught me to say 'Schlafen sie goot' (sleep well).


5. Being the youngest of a large family, his mother died when he was only 11 and his father when he was 17. He was largely raised by his older brother, John Matthias, who was 17 years older. As a child I remember Grandpa being upset when he heard of his brother John's death in 1963.


6. Grandpa was also very fond of his closest sister Anna (Ann) -- 2nd from the left in the group picture above, who was about 9 years older. I have a still life oil painting by Ann that hung on the dining room wall at Grandpa's house.

7. He always said he only got through the 4th grade. He was very proud when I went to university at 16. For most of their married life, Grandma handled the family correspondence, but Grandpa eventually had to take this over. After he died I found in his desk a stenographer's pad, the ones that used to have the 100 most misspelled words on the covers. Inside, he had practiced writing those words correctly. That was just like Grandpa, always trying to learn and improve throughout his whole life.

8. Grandpa was maybe about 5'11" and maybe about 180-190 pounds. I remember him as sort of squishy and huggable but not fat. I can see him sitting at the kitchen table and eating his 3 meals, slowly. The only time I saw him have seconds was at our house at the weekend. He had brown hair at one time, which was grey and receded by the time I knew him. For all the 17 years that I knew him, he had a moustache. Grandpa had the kindest brown eyes I have ever seen.

9. Grandpa's sister Ann married one of Grandma's older brothers, Henry. Perhaps this is how they met, I don't know. This meant that my Dad had a 'double cousin', Evelyn.

10. Several of Grandpa & Grandma's brothers were photographers. They are listed in the photographers' directory of the Minnesota Historical society. I don't know who started first, but over the years Grandpa was in business with a number of his brothers and brothers-in-law. I think photography was sort of like computers now, the new technology where the jobs were. Dressing up in costumes and having one's picture taken was apparently a form of entertainment as well.



11. Grandpa told me he had a sister who worked in a candy factory. The 1900 Census verifies that his 18 year old sister Clara did just that. As I child I thought it was funny that his sister made candy, having grown up thinking it was very naughty stuff. Both my parents had terrible teeth and threatened my grandparents on both sides with not seeing me if they gave me any hard candy. I was 27 before I ever had a cavity.

12. Grandpa married Grandma on the 20th of February, 1913. He will have been only 19 years old. I have her engagement ring which has a respectable sized rock and little hearts on the sides of the mounting. They were married in St Paul, MN. I have the original marriage certificate and the cards they received on their 50th wedding anniversary.


13. I have the papers which said Grandpa was deferred from military service in WWI because he had a dependent wife to support. Things were obviously different in those days to later.

14. Grandpa was 23 years old when my Dad, his only child, was born. Grandpa's brothers either had daughters or never married, so he was very pleased to have a son to carry on the family name. They obviously doted on their son; there are many photos of my Dad growing up. I have the impression that Grandma spoiled her son shamelessly and that Grandpa tried to impose a little more discipline, but I don't think he was very hard about it at all.

15. Grandpa was a Mason and he got my Dad involved in that organisation as well. When my Dad went into the Army Air Force, he told me Grandpa made him remove his Mason ring in case he disgraced it. Grandpa gave Daddy a black onyx ring which he always wore after that. I think perhaps my Dad's drinking had got him into a few scrapes by then.

16. By the time of WWII, Grandpa and Grandma were living in Madison, Wisconsin. Their address is on my Dad's military dog tags, which I have.

17. The photography business was booming during the war, as one might imagine. In Mom's letters to Daddy during their first year of married, when he was in Italy, she mentions that Grandpa and Grandma were working very hard to keep up with all their orders. A girl named Jane was working for them and apparently Jane had hopes of catching my Dad. One of the reasons Mom and Daddy didn't tell about their marriage at first was that Grandpa might be in a fix if Jane got mad and quit. I think my Dad may have got around a bit in his youth.

18. Grandpa liked to fish, I think, or perhaps he just liked to get away from the city. Grandpa and Grandma spoke often of the cottage they had on a lake. Pictures in their photo album reveal this was at Idlewild WI on Lake Michigan. I think they must have spent a lot of weekends there.



19. I can't tell if Grandpa had his own business during the war, but that's my impression. However, after the war, I gather he was connect to the photography department at Baron's Department Store in Madison. It is possible he had two jobs, one at Baron's and his own on the side. I never heard that Daddy worked at Baron's, so it may be that he helped with the other work while Mom went to work at Baron's with Grandpa.

20. Mom didn't care for the cold weather in Wisconsin. She said she had fur-lined stadium boots and a seal-skin coat, but she was still cold. She told me she could walk on top of the crusted snow, and though she was snuggled down in her fur coat the air was so cold it hurt to breathe. Grandpa would crunch along beside her inhaling deeply and exclaiming "Smell how fresh it is, Kay! Isn't it wonderful?" She laughed about it, but I know she was glad not to live up North any more.

21. By about 1950, Mom and Daddy moved back down to Oklahoma City and Grandpa and Grandma soon followed, buying the first house they ever owned on Pennsylvania Avenue, near what would become Penn Square shopping mall.



22. Grandpa established his photography business there in Oklahoma City, using one of the two bedrooms as a darkroom. I can remember that he had the occasional sitting, but he was mostly retired by that time.

23. Grandpa was 62 when I was born. As I've said earlier, I should have been a boy but having waited so long for a grandchild I guess they figured they had to take what they were given. Had Mom not mentioned to me the issue of the family name, I would never have known Grandpa had longed for a grandson.


24. I have the desk that sat against the dining room wall at Grandpa's house. It has a fold down lid for the writing surface with drawers on either side, cubby holes at the back and elegant turned legs. It was where Grandma wrote letters and Grandpa paid bills; it seemed like the centre of the house in some way. The drawers held wonderful things like Grandpa's clove chewing gum, the key to the floor furnace (which I still have), rubber bands twisted around a dead D battery for storage and a double ended 'rubber' (a name that made me laugh). It had a pink end to erase pencil and the other white end to scrape a hole in the paper, called 'erasing ink'.

25. Grandpa and Grandma's house was simple and orderly, the garage was clean and tidy, Grandpa's car was clean and vacuumed, the grass cut, the house painted. Their days had a routine and Grandpa always had things to do. They had every bit of discipline one could want, the very thing my Dad always lacked. Consequently, I've not inherited it either; does that sound a plausible excuse?

26. Grandpa wore pleated wool trousers with cuffs, plaid wool or flannel shirts and big black shoes that laced with only one or two grommets and with stitching around the outside top of the toes. This provided a nice platform on the top of his big feet for my smaller ones. He would walk me around the house backwards, me standing on the tops of his feet.

27. Grandpa often smelled of camphor. A product called Campho-Phenique was popular at their house, almost as much as Vick's Vaporub.

28. Mom always said Grandpa had a 'Barrymore profile', something to do with that family of actors, but I've not been able to find a comparison. I think photographers of the day were interested in that sort of thing as the fashionable way to be photographed.



29. When I went to their house we often got out the folding card table (which I still have) and played cards: spades, mostly, occasionally hearts which I think I taught them later. We played checkers a lot too, and Grandpa was always pleased when I beat him. They talked about playing canasta with their friends up in Wisconsin, but they never taught that to me.

30. In the years before I went to school and during summer holidays until I was 11 or 12, I spent several days each week at home, a few days with my Mom's mother (Grandmother), and a few days with Grandpa and Grandma. At the time, I understood this was because having waited so long for a grandchild, they all wanted to spend time with me. Looking back, it may have been to give Mom some relief from entertaining an only child and a chance to get caught up on her painting.

31. I liked vanilla ice cream the best, but sometimes liked strawberry, so they kept a carton of Neapolitan ice cream in the freezer for an occasional dessert. A special treat was to get in the car and go for a 'nickel cone' (nickel = 5 cents), soft ice cream, from the Dairy Queen near by. I remember going to McDonald's when it only served the little flat hamburgers. They had a number on their sign telling how many hamburgers they had sold; Grandpa and I were very impressed that they'd sold just over a million. I can't imagine what that number would be now.

32. Grandpa didn't carry a wallet, he had a coin purse. The main one I remember was a brown leather pouch with the metal knobs that crossed each other and closed with a snapping sound. Later I think he had a green rubbery plastic oval with a slit down the middle that you squeezed lengthwise to open. He always counted out exact change whenever possible for his purchases. I grew up thinking this was the sign of someone who was careful with their money. Grandpa was always very careful with his money. Unlike Daddy, Grandpa had a savings account, even though he helped Daddy out on several occasions.

33. Grandpa worked around the house for most of the day, stopping only for lunch. After dinner he would sit in his chair, which was low slung, green floral upholstered and had very wide arms which were perfect for me to sit on beside him. We would watch the news and various family oriented TV programs. He didn't sit much otherwise, but when he did, he had a fidgeting mannerism of rubbing his fingers against his thumb, as though snapping each of the fingers on his left hand. He generally did this when he was staring into space, thinking.

34. He always drank his coffee from the same blue cup with the letter "B" on it. This contrasts with the 'Coffee Hound' cup my Dad always favoured. The cups are perhaps a useful analogy. Would it surprise you to know I have both Grandpa's and Daddy's coffee cups?

35. Grandpa and Grandma saved all their dimes for my college education. It was a ritual we shared, looking through Grandpa's coins for dimes to put in the paper tubes that stood in the phone cubby in the hall (the phone lived on the desk around the corner). When the tubes were full they went to the Penn Square bank. It was a strong message I received, that my family felt it was important for me to go to university. I never questioned that I would.

36. As Mom didn't drive and Daddy was working in an office when I was older, it was Grandpa who drove across town to pick me up at school and take me to dentist and doctor appointments. I had braces on my teeth when I was 12-13, so there were a lot of dentist appointments.

37. At one time Grandpa drove an ugly mustard yellow car but his last car was a huge rounded 1957 Chrysler, in a very odd pinky-purple colour, which I liked. The upholstery was pink, brown and silvery tuck roll that left your bare legs sweaty and imprinted. After Grandpa's death I drove his Chrysler a few times up the 39th Expressway to a boyfriend's house. That was a drag strip for the teens on the North side of OKC around that time and I got a lot of attention, looking like I'd just driven out of American Graffiti.

38. When I was 11 or 12, my best friend had a German Shepard named Misty and I had a sheepdog looking mutt named Duchess. We walked those dogs for hours. Norma's mother was single when she got Misty but when the new step-dad came along, Misty wasn't wanted any more. We kept her for a few weeks and then she became Grandpa's dog. Misty shook all over around most men, but not around Grandpa. Even she could tell how innately gentle he was. She was the first dog Grandpa had since I was very small and they had a crotchety old black Cocker Spaniel named Pudgy, whose death is written in the family Bible. Grandpa walked Misty every day around 7:30 and for whatever reason, the rush hour commuters waiting at the traffic light began to wave to him each morning.

39. Grandpa like to drink a beer or two at our house on the weekends, but I never knew him to have any at home. When cleaning out his garage I found the makings for homemade beer so perhaps he had done at some point. He was a former smoker -- liked cigars apparently -- but had quit before I came along. The closest I ever heard him come to swearing was to say 'Cheesus'.


40. I never remember Grandpa ever being angry or even impatient with me, but he did sometimes get annoyed with Grandma, at which times his pet name for her ('Cottie') didn't sound quite as affectionate as usual. I know Grandpa was often frustrated with my Dad and my Dad felt he had been a disappointment to his father. This seemed to create a barrier between them that Mom and I tried to bridge. Grandpa used to clip newspaper articles to bring over to provide topics he might discuss with my Dad, but my Dad didn't always want to cooperate.

41. I don't recall seeing Grandpa read much other than the newspaper and Readers Digest, though he sometimes looked things up in the Bible.

42. As Grandma became more senile, Grandpa shouldered more of the housework. I went over one day and found him ironing towels he'd brought in from the clothesline in the back yard. I explained that people didn't normally iron towels. He then handed me some pajamas with an L-shaped tear, asking if I could improve on his attempts to mend them with huge criss-cross stitches.

43. Grandpa had a heart attack one day and was hospitalised at Deaconess. A couple of days later the hospital called Daddy to say Grandpa had had another heart attack and could Daddy come right now. Daddy drove a green Rambler station wagon that was on its last legs. I remember hearing the starter whine over and over, failing to catch, as the minutes ticked by and I was frantic for Daddy to get to the hospital. That taught me as nothing else could about the value of reliable transport. Grandpa died that day, the 13th of August, 1973.