GRANDMA'S WING
I thank God for little children and Grandmas, for they need each
other, and we need them both. Russell Hoy
One of my clients was fascinated to
learn that I grew up on a small family dairy farm in Fruitland, New Mexico. It
turns out that he grew up on dairy farms in England and Canada, so he felt a
certain kinship with me.
One day he dropped by my office and
gave me some copies of Farm
Journal magazine from 1950 - two years before I was born.
He said he thought I would appreciate them. He was right, for I remember that
same magazine in our home when I was a boy.
Reading them brought back tons of
memories. The well-yellowed pages feature ads for the same types of tractors,
farm machinery, and pickup trucks I grew up with on our farm. There were lots
of timely (for back then) articles, such as "Bug Outbreak is Near"
and "How to Keep the Hay Coming" and "You Can Tell by the HEAD
if Plants are Well-fed."
But one article in particular
caught my eye. "Grandma's
Wing" addresses a topic that's still relevant to all families
(not just farm families) even today: How
do we best care for elderly parents?
It's a challenge for all of us,
whether for our aging family members, or - hard to think about this sometimes -
for ourselves. What will
we do when that time arrives? Here's one farm family's sweet 70-year-old answer
to that vexing question:
We were just home from church this
morning and I was putting the car away. Mary ran on ahead. "Hurry,
Daddy," she called from the doorway. "We're invited out for dinner
today!"
It was Grandma's we were going to -
and Grandma (Mrs. Mary Turner [the author's mother-in-law]) lives just back of
our hallway door.
We washed up and went over to
Grandma's side of the house. My wife was helping dish up the dinner. We seated
ourselves, sang grace (a custom of our family) and started in.
It's good to eat Sunday dinner with
Grandma. Through the week she generally prefers to eat by herself. But on
special occasions she comes over and eats with us, or we with her.
Our home wouldn't again seem right
without a Grandma. We believe that it somehow takes three generations to make a
family really complete.
The children love having Grandma
near. Grandma seems to enjoy it just as much. She was left alone three years
ago when her husband died. And after 55 years as a farmer's wife, she didn't
want to move to town. Or to live alone, either. So we built a wing onto the
back of our five-room farmhouse, and Grandma came to live beside us.
She has her own bedroom, with bath,
and her own kitchen and living room-a 20- by 12-foot room with electric stove
and refrigerator; at the opposite end her davenport, chair, and all her other
favorite things. Our same furnace heats her rooms.
Grandma need only open the hall
door, and she's with us. Yet she has the privacy and quiet of a place of her
own.
Mornings, Grandma will come over
for a pitcher of cream or a cup of butter-and a pat for each of the children.
On Mondays, she and my wife do
their washing together, each at her own machine in the basement. Or mother and
daughter spend a day sewing, and their two machines fill both sides of the
house with a happy humming.
Last Christmas, Grandma made 30
aprons, outfitting even her great-granddaughters. She loves to work in her own
little garden. One day I found her in the barn with the wheelbarrow, "swiping"
manure for her flower-beds.
Grandma is 79, but insists on days
full of canning, butchering, and daily chores like dish-washing (which the
girls appreciate). Often she takes a train or bus to visit her other children,
but it's only for a few days. Then Grandma wants to be home again.
We're sitting here tonight, Mrs.
Hoy and I, trying to think of words to tell you how happy we are at having
Grandma beside us.
Happy for her that she has a home
of her own, plus the wonderful comfort of knowing her family is close by.
Happy for the children, who have
even more - the certain, unhurried, understanding love of a grand-parent -
someone to fix that special little snack-to tell them stories of what it was
like when Grandma was a girl.
The little wing of the house is
Grandma's as long as she wants it. Someday, maybe, it will be home for a couple
of newlyweds. Or for either Mrs. Hoy or me, when left companionless.
As we sat around Grandma's table at
noon today, laughing and talking, I silently thanked God for little children
and Grandmas, for they both need each other, and we need them both.
* * * * *
At the end of the article I found
the following Editor's note:
The author (Grandma's son-in-law)
is a preacher who farms a small place a mile from his Ohio church. We know that
not every grand-parent who lives with her children would fit into a family the
way this grandma does. But few get the chance - to come and go, eat and sleep
as they like, in a place of their own - a reward that's probably due any of us
after a lifetime of hard work.
* * * * *
I was touched by this simple and
sweet solution to the age-old problem of how to care for aging family members
without taking away their independence. His description sounds like a gentle
version of the Granny Pod, an early rural take on "aging in place" -
to borrow the current vernacular.
I especially appreciate the
author's recognition of the benefits of keeping multiple generations of family
close together. He's right: grandchildren need grandmas and grandpas, and
seniors need children around as much as possible. That's not easy in today's
world.
These issues are a few years away
for some us, and right on the doorstep for others. Whether sooner or later, I'm
hoping that when that time comes for Marcie and me, we can find some way to
live like that farm family from 70 years ago: close to those we love most.
Is that too much to wish for?
Is that too much to wish for?
