My grandmother is turning 100 years old on Saturday.  I wanted to make a video – or write a letter to her.  But each time I sit to write – My mind is flooded with so many memories – that a simple Happy Birthday seems inadequate – a comment of how much I love her and have great memories sounds trite.

I wish that you could meet her. Sit with her and listen. She always has a tid bit to talk about in the yard, or decorating, or a fabric, or something she is fixing. A walk she took, flowers she clipped, a tree that needs trimmed.  I wish you could see her and my mom together. The photo above is of them looking at our Thanksgiving Dinner photos. 🙂 Arn’t they just cute????

They are different – and yet so much alike. I marvel at their resourcefulness. They have both been through hard times, hard finances, hard marriages,  – and yet stayed the course to turn things into good times, good finances and good marriages.  Every independent bit of forward thinking  – problem solving – organized – yard cleaner – family taker care-er – saver – comes from them.  The disciplined life – routines – details – care – came from time spent watching them.

I was adopted into the Wells Family when my dad married my mom when I was a wee little girl – I’ve never used words like Step Mom, Step Auntie, Step Cousins – and Never Step Grandma. I can’t even remember how old I was when someone made the comment – “but they’re not your real family” but I think I was in Jr High or High School. For as long as I can remember, My Mom has been my Mom and my Grandma has been My Grandma – Auntie Alice and Cousin Pammy have been the women in my life.

When my folks got married, we were transferred from Eureka, California to Alaska, and then moved to Coos Bay, Oregon. My grandparents moved up from Grass Valley, California to be near us.  My first solid memory of my grandma was when I was in the 3rdish grade. I was supposed to go to camp. I think my folks went on a trip. I got the Stomach Flu.  I ate a tone of Tapioca Pudding. And deposited it on her carpet. I stayed with my grandma and grandpa for the week. They had a multi level back yard with fruit trees. I think I remember eating a ton of plums that week. Not sure how that evened out things in my gut. In the garage – she was working on a door. I found it fascinating. Why would anyone want to change the color of a door? An ornate door. We spent hours in the garage sanding the grooves. The simple, careful, patient craftsmanship of it all. I remember being thankful for that week – thankful for these grandparents.

It’s strange about that door – because my grandparents designed and built a house on a hill in North Bend, Oregon. I think I was in the 5th grade at the time. I’d ride my bike over to their house and help them paint.  They laid out each board, painting both sides -  before siding the house. “Why would anyone paint both sides?”, I thought as a kid. But they let me paint. Long wide strokes on the board. And the Door. I got to paint the door. Now, when we drive by the home, now sold, I see those white slats out front and think of great times. Their house was the last place I rode my bike to as a 5th grader  before we moved to Oklahoma City  – to return in the 11th grade.

I resumed my habit of driving to Grandma’s house to see what she was up to. But this time it was in my amazingly cool Red Ford Woodie Pinto Station Wagon.  She has a beautiful desk next to the fireplace, lined with books. On it she keeps her scrapbook of room designs. You’d think that years of looking through her designs would have rubbed off on me. Nope. I do appreciate how a room is put together, I see the detail, know the quality, enjoy the art.  She would go through catalogs snipping out pieces – a pillow, a mirror, a frame  and piece together the room. Then – go about town finding those similar items. It always amazed me. Beauty and simplicity.

She and grandpa taught me how to keep records, journals of activity. How to keep a clean organized desk. I’d marvel at Grandpa’s Desk compartments. Going through them for an hour. Each little piece. She taught me how to care for a landscaped back yard. Neat. Clean. Crisp. With Color.

I enjoy talking with her. She is always in the now. I’ve enjoyed our chats so much. I miss being able to stop by her home and start up right where we left off. When I had children a little bowl appeared, full of hard candy, by the door. (Darren pipes in – that she also has a metal can of cookies – always on the ready that Nate liked too.)

I LOVE LOVE LOVE her cabbage salad. It’s not a slaw – no sugar. But a bowl of chopped cabbage with a bit of mayo, milk, salt and pepper. Always a bowl before every meal.  She taught me to chop the cabbage into uniform tiny little pieces. My boys love it now, I’m not as faithful to have it at every meal – but  I do not have a memory of a meal with grandma without it. (Darren pipes in, Again, that he LOVES Grandma’s Pork Chops).

She is known as Nana now.
She is the only Great Grandma that my boys have been around.
She is their Nana, and they love her very much. 

So – as she is turning 100 this weekend – How do I choose one or two things to say – to tell her how much she has meant to me, to my boys, to Darren. All of her bits of advice. Her hours of listening. Her example.   – Did I mention that she walks? Like a crazy person. A gal who builds a house on the hill  – has to walk up and down them to get anywhere. I always marveled at her walking trips!

And now – She is in California.  I had my whole life with her near – and now – she is living with Auntie Alice. I am joyful that my cousins get to sit and talk with her now.  The time I had – they are getting to enjoy. Right now, its infeasible to drive down, we have been in a crazy 2 years of living on a shoestring.  My grandma gave me a ton of advice on keeping those strings tied. I hope that her health will keep up until we can see her again! We have been able to see her when she comes up to Coos Bay with my mom, and I am grateful for that!

So – On a 100th birthday – Writing something not trite, from the heart, meaningful – how does one sum it up?

On this Thanksgiving Day – I can say Thank You. Thank you for welcoming this small child in to your family. Thank you for Uncle Richard and my Mom -  for all you did raising them – that they were there to raise me and my cousins. Thank you for always being available. For always remembering birthdays and holidays. For letting me sand the door. For teaching me along side. For teaching me to chop cabbage. For giving me a weird taste for green jello and fruit with cottage cheese. (Darren is asking for the recipe)  For being classy. Simple yet refined. Thank You. I wish you the best birthday ever. and I’ll be praying that they don’t take TOOOO many pictures – but just know that we cherish these photos – as we cherish you. To another year – and each on that we get after – I love you. I trust that you love my Savior Jesus. And I pray for you – for comfort in these later years – I know you are not one for public talk of emotions or faith – But it is hard to stop with Happy Birthday. You’re Awesome. I Love You. 🙂

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