The other day, as I was writing and thinking about something I read, this memory emerged from my past. The item I read, was a grandmother asking this question: “What do my own grandchildren know about who I was in my life?” She discussed how they knew her as their grandmother, but not as a person, who had lived a fully exciting life. That started me wandering through my past experiences and this image popped into my head.
As a child, our family was always on the move. That being a military family and we were uprooted and replanted over and over again. This is not concussive to life-long friendships. Our family only saw are extended families in the summer for one month when we were “in-country.” Both of our parents’ families lived one lot apart in a small town in the south.
Across the street from my father’s family home was what you see in the image above. A huge green front yard, with a huge tree and the most magnificent tree swing I had ever seen. Every morning, I would look out the kitchen window and could not wait to sit and swing away those summer mornings. Times were quite different then. This was a very safe place to live, work, worship, and summer there.
Once I had permission, I ran across the dirt road and sat on the swing. I don’t know how long a swung on that swing, but I remember the wonderful family that lived in the home where my favorite swing lived. They were Ward and Florence Graue. Such a wonderful Godly pair with a boy who was autistic. Ward drove a truck and Florence stayed home loving and bringing up their son, Keith.
I can see Florence even now in my mind’s eye. Short, curly gray streaked hair and the most magnificent baker and cook. She would see Keith pounding on the big front window and call out the front door for me to come in and visit.
Keith was such a loving person, much older than I was and he always wanted to give everyone hugs. Florence would take his arms gently and say: “Okay Keith one hug is enough” and put his arms down by his side. I was never afraid of Keith because I had known him all my life. Florence always had such delicious, delicious food cooking and baking in her home. The Graue’s had a huge garden in their back yard outside the back door. Florence, Keith, and I would often go out and pick vegetables from that garden.
Years passed and our family went back and forth overseas again and again, and upon our return, I ran across the dirt road to that swing. One year, we returned to our grandparents’ home and Ward [Florence’s husband] passed away. Florence to me was a pillar of strength. She went right on living and taking care of Keith, that garden, her home, and her church volunteering. At the time, I thought that was a normal thing, but as I grew up the strength and fortitude Florence had begun to sink in on me.
Fast forward to my years in college. Keith, now in his late thirties, was still around and the same as I knew him as a child. Florence, ever diligent in her duties, continued as I had always known her. I remember one Saturday morning when I drove out to visit my grandparents and Florence, watching Florence come across the now paved road to my grandparents’ home. She had a sack in her hand, and my grandmother had pulled a bright yellow chair up to her kitchen sink. I was sitting there in the viewing section wondering what this ritual was going to provide for my entertainment!
Both my grandmother and Florence have grey hair that had a “tinge” of yellow to it. After much laughter and chatter, that ritual began. Florence pulled out a bottle of “bluing shampoo color” and they began to wet and soap up their head with the bluing shampoo. The kitchen was full of hilarious laughter, and those two old women sat drinking coffee and their heads covered in blue shampoo. I laughed and laughed!
This hilarious entertainment went on for hours. They each took turns rinsing their hair, conditioning it, then setting their hair in curlers and by now it was lunch time. Sweet tea was made; lunch was made and more laughter and reminiscing of times long past. You know, it never dawned on me where was Keith or who was watching him while this ritual of getting the yellow out of their grey hair in my grandmother’s kitchen.
Well, times have long passed when my grandparents and Florence passed on to their reward in Heaven. I heard from some other distant relatives, Keith was placed in a home where both Ward and Florence put away savings for him to be taken care of once they passed. The last time I was in that small southern town was for a college reunion of sorts. I was married, my own children were grown and gone. I had my husband drive to that part of the small town and had him park on that same street and just sat there and let the years flood back to me on memories long passed.
Close your eyes and think of memories of times passed. What do you remember?
janice@janicebastanicoaching.com
8914 Collina Ct.
Granite Bay, CA 95746
908-229-3797
www.janicebastanicoaching.com
www.johnmaxwellgroup.com/janicebastani
