Remembering Grampie and Grammie

I wrote down a few thoughts and memories as we were driving to Grampie's calling hours and funeral back on Veteran's Day.  I thought I would share them here, along with some pictures from the days surrounding both Grammie and Grampie's funerals.  Both events, although sad occasions, were also wonderful family celebrations, and it was so good to gather together with loved ones and celebrate the lives of Maurice and Lorraine.  It was almost as if they were still there among us-- like at any moment I might look over my shoulder and see Grammie or Grampie smiling at a family member or laughing at a joke.  I'm sure they were there, in some way.  

Here are my memories:

I had been thinking a lot about Grammie and Grampie in the past few months. This year more than other years (for whatever reason), there seemed to be a memory of them around every corner. Perhaps missing Grammie had something to do with it. After all, it’s hard to imagine a couple that were more close than those two. I can remember so many times watching them dance together in the kitchen, Grammie having been interrupted from her cooking or cleaning by a mischievous Grampie with a twinkle in his eye and a big band song on his lips. It didn’t seem like Grammie ever minded the interruption much.

Grammie's Rose (In memory of Lorraine Penley, 1931-2011)

When the summer ended this year, and crisp fall temperatures descended, it reminded me of trips up to Grammie & Grampie’s log cabin on our school breaks from college, back when my sister and I were going to school in Boston and our parents still lived in Texas. Grammie & Grampie would welcome us any time, and boy did we get spoiled! Grampie would scrutinize the TV Guide and find us some figure skating to watch with Grammie at night, and then pop up and down while we watched, with questions like, “You want a dish of ice cream?” or, “You want some popcahn?”

Me and my siblings at Grammie's funeral reception

Then we would stay up even later, talking as sisters do, as we laid in our beds upstairs under the eaves of the log cabin, where it was so dark you couldn’t see your hand (or the wooden beam--ouch) in front of your face. We would sleep half the day and enjoy the luxury and privacy of showering in the log cabin bathroom with the plush carpets and his-and-hers sinks (and of course, the famous brown toilet!) instead of in a dorm.

N chatting with her second cousin at Grammie's reception

We would lazily thumb through Grammie’s millions of back-issues of Ladies Home Journal and Woman’s Day (did she ever get rid of a single issue?) while Grampie checked the wood stove at least every five minutes, making sure that we would all be warm enough. Then we would borrow cross-country skis or take a walk with Grammie. Once I borrowed Grampie’s old hockey skates and he shoveled a spot for me and Beth to skate over the frozen Bear Pond. All we had to do was remember to check the oil in our old college clunkers before driving them up to the log cabin, because Grampie was sure to check it when we arrived. Dear old Grampie sure was good for keeping us on our toes when it came to auto care!

L enjoying apple cider at Grammie's reception

Maybe Grampie and Grammie have been on my mind because I’ve tried making chocolate chip cookies a few times in the past month, and I always think of Grammie, because she really set the standard in our family for chocolate chip cookie making. Having one of Grammie’s chocolate chip cookies with a cup of coffee brewed by Grampie was an experience that is tough to match. I’m convinced they had some kind of magic ingredient in that house that turned regular old Folger’s into a coffee flavor explosion. Maybe they just had a lot of practice making really good coffee-- not only was coffee served hot and fresh every morning, but you could count on the daily "coffee break" mid-afternoon as well.

Playing outside before Grampie's calling hours

It was late summer when we moved into our new house this year. At that time of year, the running trail I found with the pond nearby smelled just like Bear Pond-- that earthy, leafy, sandy smell that was tied to such happiness for me as a child. Grampie would always encourage us to get outside and enjoy the beach instead of sitting around and indulging in the cable TV that was such a treat for us (despite the fact that he had prepared for our arrival by pre-recording hours of “programs” on VHS tapes that he thought we would enjoy. If I could get my hands on his taped-from-TV copy of “Race for your Life, Charlie Brown”, complete with 1980’s commercials, that would be a treasure indeed-- although I’m sure it’s completely worn out because we watched it so many times.) 

The second cousins playing at Grampie's reception

At Grampie’s request, we always washed the sand off our feet with the hose before we went in the house, and he always had a “foot towel” waiting for us to dry off as well. Everything had to be sparkling clean with Grampie, you know. We spent so many hours on that beach it’s a wonder we didn’t turn into sand. There was always a canoe for us to paddle or a fishing rod for us to borrow.

Aunt Beth and L at Grampie's reception

Some of the best times, though, were when Grampie would take us up to the Auburn Mall for a movie, or pizza at Papa Gino’s (in my child world, Papa Gino’s was the bee's knees... they didn’t have Papa Gino’s where we came from, you see.) One time as kids we all went to see “The Mighty Ducks” together with Grampie. (Can you figure out how old I am now?) My sister (who is notorious for shedding a tear at the cinema-- and we love that about you Beth!) cried through the last half of the movie. As we left the theater and she tried to hide her red puffy face, Grampie put his arm around her and said, “Don’t worry Bethie, I’m sentimental too you know.”

Me and my siblings at Grampie's reception

And he was right-- perhaps a stranger wouldn’t have guessed that Grampie was "sentimental", because he always held the rest of the world to his own high standards for himself, and didn't put up with many excuses in that regard!  But all of us who knew Grampie well understood that he cared for us all deeply. A little surprise here, a little treat there was how he showed it. The last time I brought my own little girls to visit him, he gave them each a package of crackers out of his “private stash” in his apartment, and saved his banana from his breakfast especially for them to share the next morning.

Pretty little N at Grampie's reception

In losing Grampie, we lost a man who did great service to his country and the military. We lost a valued postal worker. We lost a father, grandfather and loyal family man. We will no longer hear the phrases “chuckerblock full” and “up to Brettun’s” quite as often in our conversations. {Incidentally, since Grammie has been gone I sure do miss hearing such expressions as “I’ll be darned”, “poor little rich kids” and “You’re slower than molasses running uphill in the month of January!”} But what I remember about my Grampie are those little surprises from him, and the happy mischievous smile with which he gave them.