Sleep Tight, Don't Let the Bedbugs Bite.

Dear Grandma,
You have been and always will be SO loved by everyone who knew you. Saying goodbye to you is not an easy thing to do but imagining you in a peaceful place, playing cards with Grandpa, gossiping over coffee with Lilly Albers, and laughing your hearty laugh brings a smile to my face. You have lived an amazingly long and extraordinary life, Grandma.

I’m saying goodbye to you in a letter because I couldn't be there in person to give you a final hug and kiss, but I know you understand. You have always been supportive of those you love and never judgmental about anyone’s choices. Your hugs and smiles showed all of us how to love unconditionally. Your eight children, 32 grandchildren and who-knows-how-many great grandchildren have an incredible legacy leading the way through our lives.

Little Josie, appropriately named Josephine in your honor, will hear endless stories about her great-grandma! She is a cat lover like you, loves to laugh from her belly like you and already draws in friends with her jovial personality, just like you. When I think of your life on the farm and how hard you have always worked I am in awe of how you always had time for the little things that proved to be life lessons for me.

Grandpa didn’t like the sparrows living in his martin house so he would have a regular “nest cleaning” and tossed the baby sparrows to the side of the lane to die. Being young and naïve and not understanding how the sparrows could harm his crops, I gathered up the baby birds and brought them to you so you could save them. I can still smell the lard crinkling in the skillet as you tried to prepare dinner, see the dishes stacked by the sink waiting to be washed, and vegetables waiting to be cleaned for canning and yet you would stop everything to help me make a warm, homemade nest for the pesky baby sparrows and then you’d show me how to drop water in their mouths. All the while, you knew those sparrows would die and our efforts to save them would be wasted but you showed me that taking the time to heal my broken heart was more important than the chores you needed to finish. I hope that I remember those lessons all of Josie’s life and I hope I model that compassion for her daily.

Some of my favorite memories are the times when I got to spend vacations with you on the farm. You completely indulged your grandchildren by allowing us to sleep in late, run and play when there was plenty of work to do, feeding us our favorite cinnamon rolls, homemade French fries, Big Red floats, and the best apple or cherry pies in the world! Each night after we played hard and ate ourselves silly, you would help us get ready for bed and rub our backs and listen to us tell you about our adventures with the happiest grin on your face! We would then beg to play cards with you and Grandpa and you would play whatever kind of cards we were old enough to understand: Crazy Eights, Spoons, Kings in the Corner, Gin Rummy, Euchre, or maybe even Pinochle. As we got older we tried to slam our cards on the table as hard as Grandpa could just to see you smile. Whenever you thought Grandpa was being too competitive, you’d give him the old, “Awk, come on now, Daddy.” I’d give anything to sit at that table with you and Grandpa and play one more hand of cards.

These last few years of watching your mind and body slip away have been difficult for those who love you. Seeing you trapped in a body that wouldn’t let you laugh or hug us has been uncomfortable for us. We could see that glimmer of a smile and we have wondered if you knew we were with you. You still managed to giggle now and then and you would look into our eyes and give us some hope that you might understand what we wanted to share with you but we always left feeling sad that your mind and body weren’t free to communicate with us. Your words have sustained me for the last several years and will help me through this final goodbye on Earth.

Shortly before you had to go live in the nursing home to receive the care you needed, I was lucky enough to help you pick and pit cherries one last time. I called you from Columbus to tell you I was on my way and you sounded upbeat and happy that I was going to spend a few days with you. When I arrived, you were busy pitting cherries at the kitchen table and looked up at me as if you were confused about my being there. After saying hello and giving you a hug, I could tell that you still weren’t sure who I was. I sat with you and held your hands and said, “Grandma, I’m Lori. I called you this morning from Columbus to tell you I was on my way to help with cherries, remember?” You squeezed my hands and put your arms around me to give me a big hug but you had a sad look on your face. When you finished hugging me tight, you put your hands on my cheeks and looked right into my eyes and said, “Honey, I might not always know who you are, but I will always love you.” I hear your voice in my head and I know that you still love each one of us. You knew just what to say to help me get through those years of seeing you drift away from all of us.

I'd like to believe that your body is now free and your mind alert. I envision you as our guardian angel, looking out for each one of us. As Josie grows up and hears stories about her great-grandma, Josephine, I know she will feel proud to carry your name. She is a lucky little girl to have pieces of your personality growing inside of her!

Grandma, I can hear you laughing and I can feel the warmth of your hug and the gentle scratch of your fingers on my back. You have had a wonderful life and you have shown your family so much love and compassion that I hope will continue to grow and expand in each of our families. I am so lucky to call you my Grandma and to have so many memories of you stored in my mind.

Sleep Tight. Don’t let the bed-bugs bite.

Love You, Lori

Josephine: A Short Biograhpy

Josephine's First Communion at about 6 or 7 years old

My maternal grandmother, Josephine, was born on Christmas Day, 1908. She would have turned 100 years old this week and naturally, I can't celebrate Christmas without remembering my grandma.

We've all debated whether or not Christmas is truly the day Grandma was born or if the orphanage in NYC or Immigration Officials at Ellis Island simply assigned this date as her approximate birth. We do know that she was born on a ship that set sail from Italy and was born sometime during the journey to the U.S. After arriving in NYC, she was placed in an orphanage, and according to the stories told by my aunts & uncles, she lived there because her birth parents couldn't afford to care for her. My grandmother never talked with me about her early memories and I'm not sure if she simply didn't have memories of that time or if she chose to live in the present (which would have been typical of my grandmother).

When Josephine was about 3 years old, she was put on a train during the Orphan Train movement and headed toward the midwest farming communities. PBS has a short but informative piece about the Orphan Trains, which was designed to help provide homes & families for the numerous orphans in NYC, but also meant to help farming families with the great task/labor of running their small farms. The PBS program shares some of the positive and negative aspects of the Orphan Train program but I'd give anything to know what it was like from my grandmother's perspective.

Josephine shortly after her adoption, approximately 1911

Grandma rode the train all the way to Ohio, although I'm not sure which depot was her final destination. She was adopted by a German Catholic couple who were unable to have their own children and they took her back to their farm in Coldwater, Ohio. She lived in the same farm house the rest of her life, caring for the livestock, working in the fields, cooking for farm workers, raising her eight children (one set of twins), and creating a huge legacy alongside her husband, Raymond. Stories about my great-grandfather make him sound like a very controlling & abusive man so I can only imagine what it was like for my grandmother as she was growing up with such a mean-spirited father. I have to assume that someone showed her love and compassion because that is all she had to share with her children and grandchildren.

Josephine taken before she was married, in about 1930

I have a storehouse full of memories of my grandmother and grandfather and all of them make me smile & laugh. They are typical of the generation that lived through the Great Depression & World War II---saving every penny in a safe at home, living off their land, recycling & reusing everything. (When they moved out of their farmhouse into a nursing home facility, we all had a sentimental journey as we sorted through the saved plastic bread bags, twist ties, flattened-out-but-used tinfoil, and the jars & jars of homemade canned goods down in the cellar.) They certainly never had much in the way of monetary wealth or financial value but for me, they led the kind of life that I hold dear. I strive to be like them: loving one another through good/bad, sharing the little they did have with anyone in need, feeling a sense of pride about a good day's work, appreciating friends and family & always having time for a good game of cards.

Josephine & Ray's Wedding Photo, June 1933

My grandma came to this world with very little---abandoned at birth and raised as an only child. She never complained and always had hugs to share, led us in laughter, and made sure we knew that she loved each one of us. And she had a lot of us to love. When she died four years ago, about 3 weeks shy of her 96th birthday, she had 8 children, 32 grandchildren & 66 great-grandchildren. For a woman who came with nothing she certainly has impacted this world with the brood of family she's left behind. Her gifts of unconditional love and compassion are guiding forces for all of us.

It's with honor and respect that my daughter was named after my grandmother. My grandma met Josie twice before she died. My mom wasn't sure if Grandma understood that Josie was her namesake & great-grandchild but the love in her eyes has me convinced that she somehow understood. My grandmother 'left us' long before she died, due to the horrible progression of Alzheimer's. In some ways, I've felt that we all needed to let go of her slowly so maybe the disease helped us all grieve & accept that we couldn't keep her forever.

I was unable to attend my grandmother's funeral when she died in 2004 (something I'll always regret because I needed to have that closure) but I did write a letter to my grandma and emailed it to my brother so that he could include it in her casket as a way of saying goodbye. I intend to post it on my blog as a tribute to Grandma on what would have been her 100th birthday in just a few days. We were all so sure she'd live to be 100---her strength, quiet wisdom, and unending love were larger than life for all of us who knew her.

Dad...does THIS entice you to move here?

A brief review:

Josie and I planted our Winter Garden seeds on September 1:




Tonight as I was preparing our dinner of grilled chicken, fresh cranberries & red skinned potatoes Josie informed me that she really wanted a salad with her dinner. We both love our greens so I normally keep a bag of lettuce on hand to easily prepare a quick salad. I grabbed the bag that I knew was in our crisper but could quickly see that it had been in our refrigerator a bit too long. I tossed it in the green bin and told Josie we'd have to do without a salad tonight. The disappointment on her face reminded me that our lettuce had been looking tasty in the garden so I ran outside in the rare Fresno hail storm and cut our first lettuce.


Luckily, our (store bought) cucumbers & tomatoes were still fresh and Josie was happy to help me wash the lettuce and tear it for our salad. (Next year I hope to grow some winter tomatoes & cucumbers, as I've heard it's possible in Fresno!)


Unfortunately, Josie's taste buds have grown accustomed to store bought lettuce so the flavors from our fresh, crunchy romaine & radicchio lettuces were a little much for her. She made a disgusting face and spit it into her napkin while declaring, "This lettuce is too spicy!"




Hopefully we'll be able to re-train her taste buds soon so that she can enjoy our winter garden as much as the rest of us!

Fresh lettuce from our backyard garden in December?! Sure beats the cold temps in the teens that you've been 'enjoying', don't you think, Dad?