Memories of Grandpa and Grandma's House

There are certain memories that never leave us. We surprise ourselves occasionally at the fact that we can recall certain events that happened years and years ago. These memories can be happy ones, or they can be memories that we wish we could push out of our heads permanently. I am one of the lucky ones that recall beautiful memories from my childhood.

The most joyous times of my early childhood were trips to see my grandparents. My mom and dad and my siblings and I would all pile in dad’s car and drive across the state of Ohio till we arrived. I always knew we were almost there when dad would turn onto Old Mudhouse Road where my grandparents lived. As soon as we exited the car, we were running through the gate and hugging grandma who was always standing in front of her house waiting for hugs and kisses.

Grandma’s house was out in the country with a large back yard where we had plenty of room to run and play. There was a massive willow tree with a tree house, and a swing set grandpa and put in the back yard. Grandpa had a large pile of sand by the garage, and we would spend hours playing in the sand with spoons grandma loaned us from the kitchen. Down the hill was grandpa’s garden and a back fence with blackberries. I would go down the hill and pick blackberries and take them to grandma for jam and blackberry cobbler. 

Grandma and Grandpa’s house was an old, white farmhouse with upstairs bedrooms and a basement where grandma stored her canned goods and did her laundry. She loved flowers, so the front porch had a beautiful flower bed with a myriad of colors in full bloom. She also had cactus plants which I learned the hard way not to touch! Off to the side of the house was a storage shed with a huge deep freeze and a cellar “trap” door. The door led to a cement storage room underground with every wall lined with shelves holding homemade canned goods of all kinds. These were prepared and stored for the winter months when the cold, icy weather prevented anyone from going to the store. 

When spending the night, we grandchildren would put our ear to the floor vent and listen quietly to the grown-ups downstairs in the living room talking to each other. We would eventually drift off to sleep, only to be wakened in the morning by talking in the kitchen and the smell of breakfast being prepared below the stairway. We would run downstairs, eat grandma’s homemade cooked breakfast, get dressed, and off we would go for another day of fun. Grandma always had coloring books and crayons, baby dolls, and building toys for the boys. I would sit with her and color, or she would teach me how to embroidery. I loved sitting with her on the porch swing watching the cars go by and reading articles from the gossip magazines she kept in the bathroom.

My grandma was short in stature, but strong in nature. She had beautiful gray hair flowing down to her knees because grandpa didn’t want her getting it cut. I would stand in the bathroom and watch her comb through those long, gray strands of hair. She would then make two braids, one on each side, then wrap the braids around her head and secure them with bobby pins in what looked like a braided crown adorning her head. She spoiled her grandchildren rotten but was firm when we were not behaving.

My grandpa was a gentle giant. He had retired from a career working for a glass company where he lost part of his thumb on a machine. He would sit me on his lap and sing songs, one of which I remember to this day. He took up embroidery and he would sit with grandma and embroidery. I have a quilt he made with all of the fifty states on squares and a wall hanging of the United States. He would tend to his vegetable garden, then come sit in his easy chair and watch us play. 

Many times, our cousins came to grandma and grandpa’s house, making it even more fun to stay there.  We had cousins who lived not far away from my grandma and grandpa. My uncle would take us on fun adventures like water sliding or canoeing. There were also times when we just sat at the kitchen table and played games. 

Many of my memories are of holidays spent at my grandparents’ house. The house would be abuzz with women in the kitchen preparing Thanksgiving or Christmas meals, men standing around talking, and children running around the house playing. Grandma knew how to make the best homemade noodles I have ever eaten. To this day, I cannot figure out how to make them as good as she did. There would be the aroma of turkey or ham in the oven and baked goods sitting on the counter ready to be devoured by hungry children. While the meal was being prepared, a head count was being taken to see how many folding tables we would need. Adults sat at the kitchen table, and children sat at the folding tables in the living room. At times, it could be mass chaos trying to decide who got to sit where. This scenario would take place both at Thanksgiving and at Christmas.  The only difference was the Christmas tree sitting in front of the living room window, adorned with ornaments, many of them hand-made, and piles of Christmas gifts waiting under the tree to be torn open by anxious children. 

Eventually, it would be time to leave for home. Reluctantly, I would pack my suitcase, give lots of hugs and kisses goodbye, and slowly make my way to the car. With the car loaded with luggage and the sad faces of three children in the back seat, new memories were taken with us back to our world of normalcy and routine. Being at home just wasn’t the same as being at my grandparents’ house. What we did bring home was the assurance that we were loved by two of the most precious grandparents anyone could ask for.