Valentines Day In Grade School

 Grandma Lu was unwrapping a box of chocolates that her husband gave her and thinking of this day when she was just a child. How different it was. There was not a gift exchange between my parents because there was no money for things that weren't necessary. They knew they loved each other and showed it with all their hugging and kissing throughout the years. Grandma Lu shook her head and told her husband thank you and told him to take a piece of the chocolates. She was thinking of all the Valentines that she wrote when she was in grade school. They were so little; probably about three inches. They each had an envelope. The envelopes didn't have glue on them so you had to tuck them together so the Valentine didn't fall out.

Grandma Lu looked at her right hand. Yes, it was still there. She had a callus on her third finger from holding her pencils so very tight all the way through school, but especially in grade school. Her handwriting was atrocious. One teacher in particular made it even worse by smacking her hand with a ruler because she wasn't holding her pencil the way the teacher thought she should.

The Valentines came in a box of twenty-five. Often her classes had more than that so her mother would have to buy two boxes. She could still hear her mother sigh when holidays came around. Grandma Lu knew what that sigh meant. She had done the same thing during some tight years when her children were in school. 

Just for fun she looked up what the old Valentines looked like when she was seven or eight years old. "Yes, there they are. I would take my time and read each one and choose which one was just right for the person I was giving it to. Wouldn't you know it, I would break the lead in my pencil, or spell something wrong. Writing Valentines was not just stressful for my mother, but for me as well."

The Valentines would all be carried to school in a decorated box that I had glued together with the help of my father and a lot of construction paper. I always made so many hearts of a contrasting color to glue on the outside of the box. Again I had to try over and over until I got the shape of the heart just right.

Sometimes my mother made heart shaped sugar cookies to school for the party. They were always perfect with pink and red frosting and of course, they were delicious.

And then there was the ride on the bus with my little brother, who also at some point had a Valentines Box and cookies for his party. I have a friend who loves driving a school bus. I can just imagine her helping the little ones with their hard to manage projects for their parties so they would arrive safely for this special day.

Happy Valentines Day! 

Alexa Vs. The Little Black Radio

Grandma Lu decided that she would like a quiet afternoon listening to her favorite classic country music. She had her Echo sitting by her rocking chair and said, "Alexa, play George Jones music." Almost immediately George Jones was singing one of his most popular songs, "He stopped loving her today."

As she sat and listened to the soft and sad tunes she smiled as she remembered the radios from years ago. There was the tall floor model that we all listened to as a family. We only turned it on in the evenings to listen to Amos and Andy,  Fiber McGee and Molly, Burns and Allen. They were funny shows with lots of sound effects. We also listened to the news at night. I can still see my father listening close to the news while my mother either mended or ironed. Her hands and mind were always busy.

Mom had a little black Admiral radio in her kitchen. She listened to soap operas as she made her bread and rolls. I can remember Ma Perkins and lots of commercials about soap like Dreft and Oxydol. I can still see my mother stop her cooking and baking to write down recipes that a lady would give her listeners. Mom had beautiful penmanship and the scraps of paper she wrote on are still in her very old cookbook in my cupboard.

Mercy, that little black radio moved to every house we ever lived in. When we moved to town it still sat in the kitchen, then we moved to a lovely home on the other side of town and it sat on top of the refrigerator. Grandma Lu started to chuckle out loud. Oh my I remember that day like it was yesterday...

I had come home from school and walked into the kitchen and there was my mother. My straight laced mother that didn't approve of slow dancing doing the jitterbug in a pair of my old jeans! She had a dishtowel in her hand and was galloping all around the kitchen. I said, "Mother, what are you doing?" She quickly grabbed my hand and said, "I'm dancing. Come on! Dance with me. This is a really good song!" So I did! That was the day I realized that my mom was a real person that was in fact young at heart and wasn't always the serious role model and disciplinarian that I had always thought she was. The lady dancing in our kitchen was the girl that my dad fell in love with and the mom that I loved dearly. Not only did she dance the jitterbug with me, but then she said, "You look so surprised that I can dance. Let me show you the dance that we did when I was your age." It was the Charleston! Oh we had such a good time that afternoon.

Mom didn't realize it that day, but she made a memory that will never fade. Grandma Lu smiled as she looked at her Echo and the constant slide show of her friends and family that reminded her of past times and fun times. Oh it would have been such fun to have had a photo of mom doing the jitterbug!

Grandma Lu's Most Embarrassing Day

 "Oh how I love to go to flea markets. Today is cold, but it is beautiful. The sun is shining and people are smiling! January has been one of the longest months I can remember. Oh I guess January seems like a year most years." 

She was on a mission to find a tiny shelf for the downstairs. It needed to be taller than wider and have about three shelves. "I'll probably never find one, but that's okay. It's just good to get out and get some fresh air."

As she dodged little ones and racks of clothes she noticed some racks of shoes. One pair caught her eye. She walked slowly over and touched the shiny surface. It was a black patent leather sandal. It was exactly like a pair her mother used to wear. "She loved those sandals. Funny she didn't wear them out. In fact she had a purse to match. Patent leather was so popular even in the sixties and seventies. How I remember my black patent diaper bag and purse. They almost matched which was about the end of me. I swear I will never forget that day!"

"That morning my husband then had given me fifty dollars to go grocery shopping for the week. Fifty dollars in those days would buy all the meat and staples we would need and probably have money left over. He went to work and so did I. My work was getting my little one fed, bathed, dressed and diaper bag filled with what I may need. I had gotten everything ready and put in the car including my little girl, Melanie. She was a cutie pie, but filled with energy. She had just mastered the art of walking and loved to show off her new talent.

The grocery store was small compared to the big shopping centers nowadays, but it was large enough to have everything that we needed and most of all it was close to where we lived. I knew the manager and a lot of the checkers there. I can still see them make over my new baby the first time I took her shopping with me.

 After I found a parking spot close to the door I got out and put my handbag over one shoulder and Melanie on my other. I found a cart outside close by. I coaxed Melanie into riding in the front of the cart and we were ready to shop.

I made the rounds of the store slowly. Slowly because my little girl was a pill this particular day. She would cry wanting to walk instead of riding in the cart. Then she would cry wanting to ride in the cart. It seemed I did more in and out of the cart with her than I did with the groceries that I picked out. After I had crossed off the last of the things that I needed my heart almost stopped. My purse was gone!

I put Melanie in the cart and I retraced my steps over and over. Finally the manager came to me and said, "Mrs. Grafing may I help you? You seem very distressed. I said, "Distressed? I sure am. Someone has stolen my purse. I turned my back to get my little girl and discovered that my purse was gone." 

Of course, I started to cry and then Melanie started to cry. The manager immediately went to the front and had all the doors locked. He was determined to find the thief.  He got on the loud speaker and announced that a black patent purse had been lost and if anyone found it would they please bring it to the front of the store. I had been told to stay where I was while the employees did their searching. After a bit the manager came back to me and said, "Now, would you tell me again what your handbag looked like?" I said, "Yes, it looks just like this diaper bag. It is  black patent leather." Then he said, "Does it look like the one on your shoulder?"

As she walked out of the little flea market she chuckled to herself. She had told that story so many times over the years especially to her now grown daughter. It was the worst and most embarrassing day of her life. Now it was the funniest because that twenty-three year old mother went on to have many more days with her children that would embarrass her to no end, but none that ended up having a whole grocery store locked down.

The Quilts From Over The Years

 Grandma Lu had been outside attempting to help her husband get her car out of a snow bank to no avail. Her husband could take her to town in his truck until the snow melted. Now as she snuggled under her Chief's blanket in her rocking chair, she couldn't help but smile. "This little scrap of a blanket wouldn't have kept me warm when I was a child, that's for sure. Our old farmhouse was drafty and the bedrooms upstairs were darn right cold!" She chuckled out loud when she remembered her brother complaining about seeing his footprints on the steps because the steps were covered with frost. Yes we did need quilts to keep us warm but the quilts that my grandmother made were so heavy because they were made out of old winter coats that she saved year after year. The menfolk wore them to shreds, but she was so very frugal that even the scraps were of value for making quilts. Of course, she didn't have a sewing machine. All of her quilting was hand stitched. I can see those old quilts now. The different pieces of coats were stitched together with yarn and some looked like embroidery thread. There were pieces of velvet there were so very soft. They were probably made from children's coats that were threadbare. Other pieces were made of corduroy. Those pieces were soft too, but some were not nice to lay my little hands on. They were like a bad joke. They made you think they were soft and nice to cuddle up to because they looked like lamb's wool, but in fact they were harsh and scratchy. I never did see the back side of those old quilts. If I did I sure don't remember them. However, I do remember one special night when my sister who was twelve years older than me came home from a date.

My bedtime was when my parents told me it was. It was generally about eight o'clock because the school bus came at seven in the morning so I needed to get out of bed at least by six o'clock if not earlier.

This particular night it was so very cold outside. An Iowa typical winter night of low to below zero weather. I had sat on my mama's lap and said my prayers. The dining room was cozy and warm because that is where the coal stove was. She kissed me goodnight and said, "Now hop up to bed. Love you!" I did as I was told. As I climbed up the stairs the air became colder and colder. I hurried and crawled under those heavy quilts. It was so cold, but soon the sheets warmed up and I was so very comfortable and went sound to sleep.

 I woke up hours later to my sister saying, "Lu Anne, wake up and move over. You are on my side of the bed." In my sleep I did what I was told only to realize that my sister had tricked me into moving over to the cold side of the bed by the window which usually let in a bit of a breeze. I yelled at her and said, "It's cold over here! You are mean." To this day I can hear her chuckle. "Well you shouldn't have slept on my side of the bed." 

As Grandma Lu got out of her rocking chair she shook her head. "We laughed over that for years. That's what happens when a six year old has an eighteen year old for a sister that had to share a bed."

She walked into her bedroom and looked at the quilt that was hanging proudly by a wooden ribbon quilt holder. She felt the fabric and shook her head. This quilt would always hang as a reminder how things change over the years. Her mother had made this quilt while waiting for her baby girl to arrive. It was eighty-two years old. The backing was threadbare, but the top was perfect. Of course, she didn't know that she would be having a baby girl, so she used soft green and yellow and white fabric with a little bit of rust just in case it was a boy. It was soft with age and wear. It too was hand stitched.  The stitches were so very small and even. Perfect, but the world wasn't. World War II was raging. What was her mother thinking while she was working on this quilt? Was she worried? Did she even have a radio to hear the news? What kind of heat did she have in that old farm house that both she and I grew up in? What was it like? She told me lots of stories, but there are still so many more questions unanswered.