Part of Grandma's beautiful rose gardenStefano had brainwashed Hope into thinking she was a princess and her reunion with Bo looked hopeless. It was 1989 and Grandma Morgan, Marci, and I, like sands in the hourglass, were plopped on the couch munching on garden-fresh cucumbers and watching Days of Our Lives.
"Days" had become our daily ritual, pardon the pun. While our parents were arguing about who got (or didn't get) what in the divorce, Grandma had taken us into her home. Afternoons were spent picking cherries in the backyard, learning to cook cabbage rolls from handed-down recipes and letting Grandma “do our do’s” from styles she mastered in beauty school. We learned a lot about Grandma that summer, as she shared stories about how she escaped her difficult childhood, outsmarted bears in the wilderness, joined the Canadian service, fell for my Grandpa’s “dance moves”, and most importantly, how she had created a happy life from courage, hard work and love. When no one else was around, Grandma was. So when I spoke to her a few weekends ago, her health failing, I knew what I needed to do.
Three days later, my flight touched down at Salt Lake City International Airport. I picked up my rental car and headed for Erda. The rural town of Erda is only 40 miles west of Salt Lake City, but a cultural eternity from San Francisco. There was something desolate and melancholy about the drive on I-80 West toward Reno, as the grey winter sky blended into the cool blue of the Great Salt Lake. Bobbing behind Wal-Mart and Sam's Club semis, I passed the abandoned the Great Saltair, once a grand resort on the edge of the lake and now just a shadow of itself...an oddity. I feared that the Grandma I was going to visit was also a shadow. The Grandma I knew was lively, sassy and spry. She was a do-it-yourself sort of woman before DIY was a buzz word. The thought of her hooked up with oxygen tubes and bed-ridden was unthinkable. However, the thought of letting her see the fear in my eyes was almost too much to bear. To prevent Grandma from worrying, something she did well and passed on to future generations, her caretaker Debbie and I decided to keep my visit a secret. That secret was now being told through the sweat on my palms as I clenched the steering wheel.
Fortunately my fears were dispelled almost immediately. Debbie snuck me through the front door as Grandma sat at her kitchen table, back toward me as she drank coffee with a few of the neighborhood ladies. I made an attempt at a bold opening line, “Grandma, what the heck have you been up to?” She turned around in her purple flannel pajamas and perfectly coiffed hair, first in shock, then in tears, finally responding with laughter, "Oh my God, it's sweetheart!" Love truly knows no bounds.
At 89, she still has her spunk!Over old photos and Maxwell House coffee, we caught up, laughed, cried and most importantly, remembered Grandma’s life and the lessons she’s learned. In her trademark authoritative style, she shared with me her best advice:
- Most important thing in life: Hard work and family.
- Secret to a happy marriage: Rule #1 - Don't nag! Rule #2 - Marry someone you’re compatible with. This helps with Rule #1.
- Secret to a happy life: Get outdoors. Enjoy the fresh air.
- Grandpa's secret talent: Beyond dancing, he supposedly he had one heck of a wink.
- Something I never knew about my Grandma and Grandpa: They met only a few times before he was sent to Alaska during the war. He corresponded to her via love letters until he lost her address. When he was done with his duty, he came back to Canada to find my Grandma and take her to Utah. Meanwhile, Grandma had been dating some hunky Australian guy. To put it in today's terms, Grandma had it going on.
- Tips for today's young women: Never get in the backseat of a car alone with a boy.
Va Va Voom! Grandma in her service uniformThere was a sense of pride as Grandma recalled stories of Canada, "us grandkids", and Grandpa. However, when I asked Grandma what she treasured most in life, I got an unexpected answer: her roses. Grandma had always kept a beautiful rose garden. In fact, tending to her roses led to her string of recent health complications. Despite warnings that at age 89, she shouldn’t bend, lift or dig, she ignored them all. Her roses were her oasis. They provided momentary escape from a life that was often difficult and lonely. Her garden allowed her a place of her own to nurture and watch something grow (or "fuss over" as she would call it). She connected to a sense of beauty through the scents and vivid corals, fuschias and reds of her English, Gallica and Tea roses. Visits to Grandma's house would almost always include a tour of her rose garden complete with commentary on the latest hybrid color, new additions or the rose that didn't make it from frostbite. It was her way of sharing something beautiful with those she loved. While Grandma no longer has a rose garden, its influence still surrounds her, from the her living room trinkets, the rims of her glasses (rose-tinted, of course), and the color of her clothing (most of which is her favorite color, "rose pink").
As I prepared to leave, my Grandma asked me to stay just a little bit longer. After all, Stefano was still on Days of our Lives and Debbie could make us some cucumber and mayonnaise sandwiches…
Since I originally wrote this entry, my Grandma has been placed in a nursing home in Salt Lake City. She turns 90 this Friday, April 13th.