Chapter 1

Gramma & Grampa Christianson
By Debbie Hines

Grampa and Gramma Christianson lived on a beautiful little farm outside of Gully, Minnesota.  As we drove in the gravel driveway, the white, 2 story house stood to the left.  There was a small, white garage straight ahead.  A corn shed and pump house were on the right and finally the big, beautiful, red barn.  After that, the chicken coop and then the pig pen.  Between the house and the gravel drive stood huge, old pine trees that seemed to touch the sky.  From one tree right in the middle Grampa hung an old tire swing for us grandkids to play on.

The grounds were imaculate...never a blade of grass out of place.  There were large flower beds surrounding the house and stretching the length of the yard between the house and the garage.  When we were little G & G never had indoor plumbing.  So there was an old out house or "privey" behind the house.   Surrounding the group of buildings, like a hedge of protection, were the woods.  There was a big, old vegetable garden where Gramma planted many fruits and vegetables.  That was back through the woods behind the corn shed.  And all around the farm were either fields of grain or grazing pastures for the milk cows.

Grampa would wake early in the mornings to do the "chores".  He'd grab a cup of coffee and off he'd go.  Gramma would also do chores, but her "animal" chores would start after breakfast.  Sometimes Gramma would help Grampa with the milking, but I remember her mostly staying in the house to get the large breakfast prepared.  She would make eggs and bacon and fresh, homemade bread that would melt in your mouth.  With that we'd have her homemade preserves ready and waiting.  My favorite was always her raspberry jam.  

My job was to set the table with the yellow or green plates and the round clear glass glasses.  And I would be sent to the cellar to pick out the jam or pickles or home canned fruits needed for the day.  Gramma always seemed to know just when Grampa would be coming in to eat because the food would be, in my young mind, instantly ready!  

After eating the wonderful breakfast, Grampa would, with his butter knife, slice off one tablespoon of fresh butter and pop it into his mouth, savoring every bit of flavor.  Then the coffee would come, freshly brewed.  Gramma had one of those big old coffee pots.  She'd mix the grounds with a raw egg, pour in the water, shake a little salt in and put it on the stove to brew.  Nothing smelled better than that coffee!  When Grampa prepared his cup, he'd put in some heavy cream and a sugar cube.  Us grandkids always enjoyed dipping a sugar cube into their coffee and eating it.  Just like candy!

Then it was time for the "real" work!  Grampa would prepare for working in the fields.  Gramma would make her way out to the chicken coop to gather eggs...then on to the corn shed to shuck corn for the pigs.  When we brought the corn to the pigs she'd yell, "Su-ey'!  Su-ey'!"  We'd spend time feeding the baby calves.  When they were newborns, we could put all our fingers in their mouths and they'd suck on them just like a bottle.  Gramma would mix a batch of formula for them in a pail that had a nipple on it.  Those baby calves would eat and eat, butting up against the pail.

Gramma always seemed to have time to look for the baby kittens with me.  We'd climb up to the hayloft in the barn and she seemed to know right where those little babies were every time.  I think she'd even go up there when we weren't visiting too!  She loved those kittens almost as much as I did.

There was always work to be done in the garden.  From weeding to picking, it kept us busy in the sun!  Gramma grew carrots and corn and potatoes and green beans and peas and onions and squash and watermelon and cantelopes and strawberries and raspberries.  A mear feast in itself!

Harvest time was my favorite time of year.  Mid-morning, after we'd done all the above chores, Gramma would lead us to the kitchen where we'd get Grampa's black lunchbox with the sexy ladies on it and we'd prepare a snack for the men in the fields.  We'd make sandwiches with her freshly baked bread, cookies, fresh, cool water from the well and coffee in the thermos, and off we'd go.  We'd drive right out into the field and right to the truck by the combine.  The men would come to the shade of the truck and sit on the runners, eating the wonderful snack Gramma made.  There would be laughing and story telling and teasing and then off to work again.

When Gramma and I returned to the house, we'd begin preparing "dinner".  That was the name they gave for the noon meal.  There was meat and gravy; potatoes; homegrown vegetables; warm, fresh baked bread with home churned butter; salads and that was only the meal!  Then came dessert!  There were homemade pies and cakes and cookies!  All with homegrown goodness!  

After dinner the men would be off to the fields again and Gramma and I were left to cleanup.  Gramma would have a big pot of water always simmering on the stove.  She'd put a big metal pan in the pump sink and pour some of that hot water from the stove into the pan.  Then she'd add pump water until it wasn't too hot to put her hands in the water.  She'd wash the dishes and I'd dry them and she'd put them away.  

Then we'd start preparing for the "supper" meal at the end of the day.  Of course there was another coffee break in there somewhere!

Sometime in the later afternoon Gramma and I would walk out in the fields with her long walking stick to get the cows for milking.  That was when Gramma would sing little songs to me.  

"I once had a poor little doll dear.  The prettiest doll in the world...."

Or, "How much is that doggie in the window?  The one with the waggily tail..."

Then she'd begin to call the cows with "Cup cows!  Cup Bessie!"  And before you know it, the cows would be all in a line walking towards us ready to go to the barn for milking.

At supper time Grampa would come in and wash up for dinner.  He always had that "farmer" tan on his face, neck and arms.  Only those places were tanned dark brown that were open for the sun.

Saturday nights were bath nights.  Gramma would take an old metal wash tub and put out in the yard.  That was only in the summer, of course.  And we'd each, by turn, strip down and bath in that big old wash tub.  There was always a special smell at bathtime.  Dove soap!  Then Gramma would dress us in fresh, clean jammies and there would be a time of sitting in Grampa's lap while he tickled and teased and loved and hugged on us.  Then upstairs we'd go, ready for bed.  They'd snuggle us in to the warm quilts.

Upstairs in Gramma and Grampa's house were 3 bedrooms all connected.  You had to walk through one to get to the next.  The stairs were painted a grey shiny paint.  It always smelled so fresh and clean.  We'd lay our heads down on pillowcases someone had crocheted on the ends.  They were always clean and crisply ironed.  Seemed I always had to relieve myself during the night...but I wouldn't dare make my way to the outhouse in the dark!  So Gramma would put a little white and red pot with a lid on it under the bed in the middle room so it was always available for night emergencies.   

Gramma & Grampa Christianson
By Debbie Hines

One summer, I must have been around 9 or 10 years old, Gramma & Grampa decided they wanted some of the grandkids to spend a week or 2 with them.  It was decided my brothers, Mike and Steve and I would stay.  But when it came time for Mom & Dad to leave, I got so homesick I had to go home with them.  Everyone decided I could stay "next time".

A couple weeks passed and we returned to pick up Mike and Steve from the farm.  Again, I need to remind you that we lived about 250 miles south from Gramma & Grampa, north of the "Twin Cities", which were Minneapolis and St Paul.  When we'd talk about going to Gramma & Grampa's, we'd refer to it as "going up north".  Actually, our address was:   5756 Adair Avenue North in Crystal, Minnesota.  Our phone number was Kellogg 7-3366.   It's funny how I can remember those numbers today, but if you asked me what my address was at our previous residence from where we live now, I probably wouldn't be able to tell you.  We lived in a 2-story hunter green house.  Dad had planted fruit trees all through the backyard.  

The house stood on a corner lot and we had a nice little garden which Mama tended and a fenced dog kennel for our dog, Poodles.  Poodles was a medium sized mutt with short, black fur and a white diamond on her chest.  I remember once Poodles had puppies.  I think there were around 6-7!  So sweet.  My friend, Janice Yunker, lived across the street and Jerry Rudolf, the first boy to kiss me when I was 4 or 5 while playing "house", lived next door in a bright red house.  His Mom and Dad were Jim and Marie and they still live there to this day.  There was a little airport across the street.  Dad owned a plane and parked it there.  At night the towers light that swirled through the sky would shine in our window as we slept.

Anyway...I guess everyone else decided "next time" was when we picked up the boys from their stay.  Apparently, without me knowing it, Mom packed my clothes so I would be able to remain with Gramma and Grampa on this trip.  I will never forget the feelings I had inside as my family drove out of the driveway.  No matter how much I adored Gramma & Grampa, there was a sense of loneliness in my heart that ached.  It was like someone had died...like I'd never see my Mama or Daddy or brothers or sisters again.  The pain was nothing like anything I'd ever known..a nausea that shuddered through my whole body.  Why hadn't  I stayed when Mike and Steve stayed?  But I stayed...alone.

After they left, I remember Grampa knowing he couldn't even speak of my family because it would bring on the tears.  At first he would tease me...but I had a serious problem with this homesickness and it was better all the way around if he didn't.  Once they let me talk on the phone to Mom but it just seemed to stir that loneliness even more.

We did have some wonderful times while I was there.  There was an old one-room schoolhouse the township was readying to use for something else so they  passed the word that if anyone wanted anything out of the building they could come and get it.  What an adventure that was!  I was able to take a bunch of old grading books.  At home I played alot of school so this was a great treasure!  

We also went to the Mississippi River headwaters and walked across the rocks.  I have a picture of myself standing in the middle of the Mississippi River in a pretty little pink dress.

But the thing I remember most was the day Mama brought me back home.  I waited for Dad to get home from work and when I saw him I ran to hug him and nothing felt better than that kiss and hug...seeing that warm smile in Daddy's eyes and knowing I was home where I belonged.


 

Gramma & Grampa Christianson
By Debbie Hines

I wonder what they were like when they were young.  I see the picture on Victoria's  website and they look so young.  Of course, I never knew them then.  I knew them after they mellowed and grew and aged and learned how to let things go.  They couldn't have always been how I knew them.

Gramma was a beautiful woman.  In my memory she was rather tall and not thin, but certainly not overweight.  She carried herself with grace...her posture straight...and her head held high.  Her hair was always in place and her clothes impeccibly clean and pressed.  I don't recollect ever hearing her raise her voice in anger or even in excitement.  She seemed to always be in control of herself.  There was a peace I remember that followed her.  Gramma's hands had some arthritis in them and some of her fingers were permanently bent because of it, but her nails were neatly groomed and polished with clear polish.  

Grampa was fun.  That's an interesting way to describe him, but it's true.  I don't think he ever corrected me...but if he did it was done in a way that was gentle and easily pallitable.  Even when he worked, he had time to teach us or show us something or answer our questions.  He gave me the feeling that it gave him great joy to do that.  Just to sit in his lap in the red rockingchair on the front porch was comforting.

I remember two ways that Grampa would dress.  One, of course, was "chores" clothes with the baseball like cap and farm clothes.  The other was with his "church" clothes and hat.  The hat was tilted to the side, making him look so handsome.  His clothes aways pressed and neat.  

Once I went to church at the Gully Lutheran Church with Gramma & Grampa.  After church there were alot of people milling around outside and, wanting to be comforted, I wrapped my arms around Grampa's legs.  I must have been very young because my arms wrapped around his knees.  But when I looked up, I found it wasn't my Grampa, but some stranger who was wearing the same color slacks.  Grampa saw the whole ordeal and scooped me up in my panic and comforted me, getting quite a chuckle out of it.

 

Gramma & Grampa Christianson
By Debbie Hines

I don't remember the sequence of events that follow, but I do know they all happened.  

One day we drove into Gramma & Grampa's driveway and those tall beautiful Pine trees in front of the house alongside the drive were gone.  They explained they were getting too large and if a storm came it could blow them onto the house, but things changed alot around that time.  

Grampa had a heart attack.  I remember him being in the hospital in Fosston, Minnesota.  We  children weren't allowed to go in to see him, but we stood outside the window and waved up at him in his room.  Somehow that twinkle that was always in his eye, wasn't there.  We could see that from the street.  He was tired.  It was hard to see Grampa like that.

Right after that things changed really fast.  When I went to see them at the farm, there were no more early mornings in the barn. No need to go out in the field anymore with Gramma to call the cows in, because the cows were gone.   There were no more pigs or chickens.

Then they decided to remodel the house and instead of being "able" to boil water and bathe in the washtub outside, we "had to" bathe in the bathtub in the house.  And we didn't need to keep the covered pot under the bed in the middle room upstairs, because we could relieve ourselves in the bathroom downstairs.  

Even though Grampa lived for some time longer, many things changed and we grieved over the loss of what once was.  Oh, good things came out of all the change, like Gramma and Grampa being able to leave the farm on trips because they didn't have to care for the animals.  And we enjoyed seeing them at our house.

 When we'd spend the night with them at their house, the mornings were the most fun!  All us kids would climb into bed with Gramma and Grampa and we'd laugh and play and tease and tickle.  But there was always a sadness over the loss of those good times before.

Grampa Christianson died when I was 12 years old.  I remember Mama coming to our room, that was my sister Susan and myself,  telling us we had to pack and go up to be with Gramma.  We lived about 250 miles away from them.

Grampa smoked large cigars, although if someone had said he did, I would have denied it.  But I realized that he indeed did smoke them when he was gone and the smell of his cigars lingered in the house.  It didn't take long for that smell to disappear as well.

We went to the funeral home and I looked at Grampa and I can still see him laying in the casket with many flowers positioned around him, but it wasn't him.  My Grampa was fun and had a twinkle in his eye.

Gramma continued to carry herself with all the grace and peace she always had.  I've wondered what kind of tears she's shed in her alone times.  

Their car, the last one, was a red Ford. I remember, because my aunts and uncle gave me the car when Gramma passed.  It was always clean...except for the dust from the dirt roads they frequently drove on.  When Gramma got older, it sometimes frightened me to ride with her because she would stop on the road before making a turn.

Gramma always seemed to stay really busy.  She embroidered and knitted and crocheted and quilted and sewed doll clothes for our Barbies.  She had alot of friends, it seemed and the farm stayed as imaculate as it was when Grampa was still there and she continued to have gorgeous flowers in the bed between the house and the garage.

In 1970 I had my first child,  Shareen.  She adored her "Gramma Chrinchinchin" and spent as much time with her as she could.  Gramma got her one of those blow up pools and Shareen would "swim" for hours.  They would take walks and Gramma would sing all the old songs we grew up with and would read to her.  They would bake and sew and Shareen saw the grace in Gramma that I knew.

Then one day I got a phone call that Gramma was in the hospital.  She had had a stroke.  I drove up to be with her and spent all the time I could with her in the hospital.  Gramma had gone into her backyard and the stroke hit her.  She fell and layed part in the sun and part in the shade.  I've always been grateful that she had so many friends who checked on one another.  I don't remember who found her, or how many hours she lay there, but they called the ambulance and took her to the hospital.

I remember being in her room with her.  She was quiet.  Not agitated.  There was that peace about her that seemed to flow from her.  That grace that I admired so.  She had "class".  I loved her.

I don't remember how long she was in the hospital, but she then had a major stroke and heart attack that eventually claimed her life.

After Gramma passed, and Mama and my aunts and Shareen and I were in Gramma's house, Shareen said, "Something good is going to happen to Gramma."  She was very little, but she had that same faith that carried Gramma through the hardships and sadness of her own life.  In those words were hope.

Recently I was in Minnesota for our 3 year family reunion, and we learned the people who purchased the farm after Gramma died, burned the house down, saying there were too many bats in the attic.  That wonderful old house, with memories reverberating from every corner, was gone.  

I'm sure Gramma and Grampa had their share of troubles and hurts and frustrations that I never knew about, but they made it through them, which gives me hope for our future.  No matter what object is destroyed or lost or stolen, nothing can take that legacy Gramma and Grampa Christianson left us in our hearts that strengthen us even today.