Applesauce and Sugar Cookies
Nov. 17th, 2004 11:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mrdreamjeansI woke up this morning with a powerful longing to see someone who passed away nearly three decades ago. Maybe the longing was triggered by the upcoming holidays; perhaps it’s because Halloween was the 29th anniversary of this person’s death. It could be because I’m on the road and the concept of “home” seems distant. But the truth is, something as simple as the aroma of baking cookies can bring memories of her from the past and make her so present to me, that I want to say hello and tell her I love her. I miss Grandma Fritts.
My grandmother was born in 1892. Her maiden name was Nettie Caroline Diehl. She was one of eight children and the first of her family born in America. The Diehls were from Germany, and after immigrating, settled in the Great Lakes area, mostly in Erie, Pennsylvania and Cleveland, Ohio.
Grandma Fritts was in her sixties when I was born. My grandfather and she had five children. Uncle Bob and Uncle Ken were born when she was in her twenties; my mother, my Aunt Janet and my Uncle Dale were born when she was respectively 41, 43 and 47 years of age (This was the 1930s.). I still am amazed at her strength in raising what was essentially two families. I am still in awe of this example of how passion can continue throughout a long and happy marriage.
Grandma and Grandpa raised their family with with equal doses of affection and discipline (Grandma had rules); they survived the Great Depression a bit bent, but unbowed. They worked hard their entire lives with the health and happiness of their family foremost in their hearts. The Fritts family was and is a fine example of blue-collar success.
Nettie Caroline Fritts was a tough lady. She was tall... a big lady. She had shining, white hair that she wore in braids, pinned up into a bun on top of her head. When we were young, she would take her hair down and it would cascade down to the floor and my sister and I would be allowed to brush it. She would sit patiently, telling us stories, as we creatively arranged it:)
In my mind I see Grandma in a flowered-print house dress, most often with an apron covering it, baking goodies. Grandma was a baking goddess. I especially remember one summer when my mother, sister, brother and I stayed with her. My Dad was in South Africa working and we stayed in Erie with Grandma. As I sit here, I can see my brother, sister and I collecting apples from the tree in her backyard. A couple of hours later, they were applesauce. The scent of Grandma’s sugar cookies baking is so strong right now, I can almost taste them.
Grandma’s cookies were the size of coffee saucers, thick, best when taken out of the oven a bit underdone and piping hot. Boy, did I like to dip them in milk. My Mom and sister still use her recipe, baking them during the holidays. Often I’m in charge of decorating. I like mine with lots of frosting. Frosting is a separate food group in our family:)
My other most favorite memory of Grandma Fritts was watching her make bean-bag clown dolls which she sold for extra income. Colleen, Jeff and I would help her sell them and right now I wish I had one; each clown had a unique expression. No two dolls were of the same fabric or trim. They were charming.
I was a difficult pre-teen. I was chubby (though Grandma called it big-boned) with a flat top and an attitude. I had dreams and a very vivid imagination. I was always singing and dancing around the house and I’m certain my parents were bewildered by their eldest child. With grandma, I felt safe, felt that she understood me, though I didn’t understand myself.
At one point, I ran away from home to live with her. “Running away” consisted of insisting that Dad drive me to Grandma’s house 130 miles away. I lasted three days with her, then begged Dad to come get me. I was bewildered that she too had rules. (I’m shaking my head at how awful I was between the ages of 11 and 14:)
My grandmother, who had a lovely alto voice, predicted that I would be a singer/performer when I grew up. She told my parents this fact when I was eleven years old. I’m sure Mom and Dad were sceptical; after all, at the time we lived in a town of 500 people on the Pennsylvania/ New York state line and no one in our family history had ever followed such a path. But Grandma believed in me and that gave me the determination to make my dream come true.
Grandma suffered a massive stroke in 1974. I was performing in an outdoor musical in Palo Duro Canyon near Amarillo, Texas that summer. When I heard she had the stroke, I took an extra job working at a convalescent home. For a couple of months, I took care of quadriplegics, changed colostomy bags, bathed seniors who were double amputees. I even had a man die while I was shaving him, my first brush with death.
I learned a lot during that time. I provided all types of care for people in need. I never thought I could do this kind of work, but my love for my grandmother triumphed over my aversion to the tasks at hand. I wanted to learn how to take care of a person recovering from a stroke. I was going to come to Grandma’s rescue.....I was going to save her.
Grandma never fully recovered from the stroke and I never saw her again, but my instincts to help her, to honor her, were correct. She wasn’t perfect, but I loved her dearly. In her final years, she was still quite the baker, but burned all other food. Nothing could be too well-done. I can see now that she was fighting to hold her place, to be a contributing member of the household.
She moved with us to Texas, but only lasted a year in Houston before we moved her back to Pennsylvania. During that time, we did get her off an addictive medication for “hardening of the arteries”, but she made my mother’s life hell. Two strong mothers in one home is one too many. In contrast, after we moved her back to Erie, she continually told everyone how much she missed Texas.
Grandma Fritts could be obstinate and demanding, but it was her strength and determination that had allowed her to raise five children and live to enjoy 28 grandchildren. Each of us had a special relationship with her. As a grandson, who was totally different from all of her other grandchildren, I appreciate even more fully today, how much she loved me and how much her belief in me mattered.
I wish Grandma was alive right now, but of course, as I remember her. I’d like her to know that she was right about my career. I’d to share my success with her. I’d like her to see that her prediction came true. I’d like her to hear me sing. I’d like to be back in that kitchen with her this morning.... making applesauce and sugar cookies.
My grandmother was born in 1892. Her maiden name was Nettie Caroline Diehl. She was one of eight children and the first of her family born in America. The Diehls were from Germany, and after immigrating, settled in the Great Lakes area, mostly in Erie, Pennsylvania and Cleveland, Ohio.
Grandma Fritts was in her sixties when I was born. My grandfather and she had five children. Uncle Bob and Uncle Ken were born when she was in her twenties; my mother, my Aunt Janet and my Uncle Dale were born when she was respectively 41, 43 and 47 years of age (This was the 1930s.). I still am amazed at her strength in raising what was essentially two families. I am still in awe of this example of how passion can continue throughout a long and happy marriage.
Grandma and Grandpa raised their family with with equal doses of affection and discipline (Grandma had rules); they survived the Great Depression a bit bent, but unbowed. They worked hard their entire lives with the health and happiness of their family foremost in their hearts. The Fritts family was and is a fine example of blue-collar success.
Nettie Caroline Fritts was a tough lady. She was tall... a big lady. She had shining, white hair that she wore in braids, pinned up into a bun on top of her head. When we were young, she would take her hair down and it would cascade down to the floor and my sister and I would be allowed to brush it. She would sit patiently, telling us stories, as we creatively arranged it:)
In my mind I see Grandma in a flowered-print house dress, most often with an apron covering it, baking goodies. Grandma was a baking goddess. I especially remember one summer when my mother, sister, brother and I stayed with her. My Dad was in South Africa working and we stayed in Erie with Grandma. As I sit here, I can see my brother, sister and I collecting apples from the tree in her backyard. A couple of hours later, they were applesauce. The scent of Grandma’s sugar cookies baking is so strong right now, I can almost taste them.
Grandma’s cookies were the size of coffee saucers, thick, best when taken out of the oven a bit underdone and piping hot. Boy, did I like to dip them in milk. My Mom and sister still use her recipe, baking them during the holidays. Often I’m in charge of decorating. I like mine with lots of frosting. Frosting is a separate food group in our family:)
My other most favorite memory of Grandma Fritts was watching her make bean-bag clown dolls which she sold for extra income. Colleen, Jeff and I would help her sell them and right now I wish I had one; each clown had a unique expression. No two dolls were of the same fabric or trim. They were charming.
I was a difficult pre-teen. I was chubby (though Grandma called it big-boned) with a flat top and an attitude. I had dreams and a very vivid imagination. I was always singing and dancing around the house and I’m certain my parents were bewildered by their eldest child. With grandma, I felt safe, felt that she understood me, though I didn’t understand myself.
At one point, I ran away from home to live with her. “Running away” consisted of insisting that Dad drive me to Grandma’s house 130 miles away. I lasted three days with her, then begged Dad to come get me. I was bewildered that she too had rules. (I’m shaking my head at how awful I was between the ages of 11 and 14:)
My grandmother, who had a lovely alto voice, predicted that I would be a singer/performer when I grew up. She told my parents this fact when I was eleven years old. I’m sure Mom and Dad were sceptical; after all, at the time we lived in a town of 500 people on the Pennsylvania/ New York state line and no one in our family history had ever followed such a path. But Grandma believed in me and that gave me the determination to make my dream come true.
Grandma suffered a massive stroke in 1974. I was performing in an outdoor musical in Palo Duro Canyon near Amarillo, Texas that summer. When I heard she had the stroke, I took an extra job working at a convalescent home. For a couple of months, I took care of quadriplegics, changed colostomy bags, bathed seniors who were double amputees. I even had a man die while I was shaving him, my first brush with death.
I learned a lot during that time. I provided all types of care for people in need. I never thought I could do this kind of work, but my love for my grandmother triumphed over my aversion to the tasks at hand. I wanted to learn how to take care of a person recovering from a stroke. I was going to come to Grandma’s rescue.....I was going to save her.
Grandma never fully recovered from the stroke and I never saw her again, but my instincts to help her, to honor her, were correct. She wasn’t perfect, but I loved her dearly. In her final years, she was still quite the baker, but burned all other food. Nothing could be too well-done. I can see now that she was fighting to hold her place, to be a contributing member of the household.
She moved with us to Texas, but only lasted a year in Houston before we moved her back to Pennsylvania. During that time, we did get her off an addictive medication for “hardening of the arteries”, but she made my mother’s life hell. Two strong mothers in one home is one too many. In contrast, after we moved her back to Erie, she continually told everyone how much she missed Texas.
Grandma Fritts could be obstinate and demanding, but it was her strength and determination that had allowed her to raise five children and live to enjoy 28 grandchildren. Each of us had a special relationship with her. As a grandson, who was totally different from all of her other grandchildren, I appreciate even more fully today, how much she loved me and how much her belief in me mattered.
I wish Grandma was alive right now, but of course, as I remember her. I’d like her to know that she was right about my career. I’d to share my success with her. I’d like her to see that her prediction came true. I’d like her to hear me sing. I’d like to be back in that kitchen with her this morning.... making applesauce and sugar cookies.
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