Grandma’s Treasures

Last week marked the fourth anniversary of my Grandma Cass Riedmiller’s passing. That’d be her on the left next to my mom with my Grandma Eleanor Creelman on my mom’s right. You can’t see all of Grandma’s legs but let’s just say she taught all of us how to stand properly for a picture, one foot in front of the other, toe slightly pointed, you know, to make your legs look good and slender. All of her grandchildren and even great and great-great grandchildren know this pose.

Grandma was 93  and had lived with Alzheimer’s for several years. My mom and her two brothers were her caretakers, taking shifts to visit her every day at the nursing home. As her granddaughter, it wasn’t easy watching my grandma lose her memory and her independence; I can only imagine how tough it was for my mom and uncles. It’s true — painfully so — that Alzheimer’s is often harder on the caretakers than it is on the person with the disease. My grandma didn’t know me the last few times I visited her. She thought I was my oldest sister Chris or that I was just someone to come for a visit. And given that my siblings call me “Little Cass” because I’ve adopted some of grandma’s habits, I always left feeling sad that we couldn’t joke around about the fact that I had gum and mints in my purse (like she always did) or that I was hoping to eat potato chips later (like she loved to do) or that I pulled my house keys out about five miles away from the house (like she always did) or that I went to the “libarry” (like she always did) or, most important, that I scored a bargain at Macys or Dillard’s (like she always did when they were known as Shillito’s and McAlpin’s).  Those things were no longer a part of grandma’s narrowed Alzheimer’s world but they are the memories of her that all of us still keep close to our hearts.

Despite the moments when Grandma turned disagreeable or got confused and sad, she kept her grace and style all the way through her final days. She was always ready with a “thank you” or “your hair is beautiful” compliment. And even though she stopped wearing her skirts and jewelry, she still dressed in a nice sweater or fleece jacket — courtesy of those taking care of her.  Her small room at the nursing home was filled with pieces of her past — pictures, trinkets, the things that made grandma our Grandma. Those who loved her did everything they could to bring my grandparents’ home on Kugler Mill into the nursing home.

We called those trinkets “Grandma’s Treasures.” Because here’s the thing: Grandma had this magical stash of treasures and you couldn’t leave her house empty handed. You were either given some candy or a piece of costume jewelry that she’d tired of, or maybe a little heart-shaped box to put your earrings in, or a scarf, or…well, the list is endless. My grandparents weren’t wealthy but my Grandma never stopped giving to others. As kids, we sometimes giggled at Grandma’s gifts of huge daisy earrings or pastel scarves that we weren’t sure we’d ever wear. But we always appreciated what she gave us and respected her generosity as much as we respected the fact that she always had a dish of hard candy in the “TV room” waiting for us.

Two years ago, I was at the Nervous Dog Coffee Bar with a couple of friends and we decided to pay a couple of dollars to have our palms read by a psychic/palm reader. My reader was a mix of good and bad news, some of which happened. I did injure my knee as she had indicated. And I was stuck on the novel as she predicted. Argh. Worse, my two friends had all sorts of spiritual guides and fairies and other-worldly entities looking after them, and they had past lives. Apparently this is my first time on the planet so I’m highly inexperienced in everything, including novel writing. But the palm reader did sense that there was a woman in my life, someone who had died recently, who was looking after me. I was supposed to call on her energy to help me sort out the problems with my manuscript. Funny enough, in the first draft of the novel, two of the characters are named after my Grandmas. It was my way of honoring them.

Hmmm….so I started dialing up a little Grandma whenever I worked on the novel. “Okay, grandma, you read a ton of books, help me out here. Where is this danged plot supposed to go?” I added a little angel to my desk to represent Grandma. Then my friend Erin came for a visit and she left a coin with a bird on it. And I already had my Winnie the Pooh statue that Dave had given me several years ago. I started my own writing alter and any time I’d write, I’d focus on those objects, quiet my mind (seriously not an easy task) and begin.

Then, at Christmas, my wickedly creative sister Mary gave all of us girls a gift. If you look at the photo above, you’ll see something that looks like a silver spoon. My mom and sister had been at a craft fair where an artist made ornaments out of spoons. Which got them to thinking of Grandma’s treausres. My treasure is one of grandma’s spoons along with two of  her old pins. It’s beautiful, and it was just the piece my writing alter needed. Sorry, this ornament will not be hanging on the Christmas tree. It’ll be sitting at my desk wondering where the potato chips are, asking whether we need to go to the “libarry,” and always, always keeping an eye out for good bargains.

I’m not sure they make women like my grandma anymore. She was classy and kind, and even though my grandpa weren’t rich by any stretch, they had the best wealth of all — good friends, good family, good times with each other, and good memories. And that’s the lesson all of us treasure the most.