Yellow & Blue Houses

I want to have a turn at swapping memories, because I am a “great” granddaughter heh heh. (And because work is currently slow). My brain has a few 5 second 5 year old memories of Grandma Vi. (We didn’t call her Grandma Palmer, because we already had one). She fed us banana pudding. We had to eat it outside, but it was delicious. I found that praising her cooking quieted any wrath (Shawn). I also remember finishing off some veggies right from the serving bowl, and she didn’t say a word because she was so pleased I liked it, probably. I also ate her apples and plums and raspberries…is it odd that many of my younger memories include eating? Well, as Marlie said to Jeff last Christmas as she stuffed herself with cheeseballs, “Sometimes I dream I’m eating food…and then it’s gone.” That dream seems familiar to me.

I have other memories of Grandma Vi’s home. Many are similar to Shawn’s. She had a Mouse Trap board game that always looked cool, but I was too young/impatient to actually set it up and learn the rules. She had the movie “The Secret Garden” (among two others) that Jess and I watched, and the “Elves and Fairies” book that is still my favorite book of all time. One more very vivid memory of mine: I found a measuring tape and wanted to show Grandma Vi how high it could go—as it came close to the ceiling, it fell on her. I can’t remember if I was punished by an adult, or if I felt so embarrassed and sorry that I psychologically punished myself. I’m still horrified at that memory.

I think that Grandma’s farm deserves its own theme. It is still one of my most favorite places in the entire world. A little farm with two rope swings, a tire swing, and a wooden swing! There was a cow trough to play in that housed fish and salamanders every once in awhile. We spent our days finding kittens, following ducklings, feeding lambs and calves with a bottle, chasing chickens, and keeping an eye on the raccoon while dad got the gun. We played “Beckon!” with the Palmers, climbed haystacks and trees, picked bluebells, made tents on the clothes line, and named our pig the most original pig name of all time: Wilbur.

Now, Grandpa Craner’s house was definitely different. I recall the orange creamies the adults would complain about while I sat nearby, happily licking mine up. I also stole smarties every once in awhile. Then there was the time where he had a container of frosted animal cookies that nobody would eat because they were stale; so I had them all to myself.

He sometimes took Jessica and me to Clogging, or dropped Jess off early for violin class. Jess still doesn’t stomach bananas very well. He took us to Polar Bear a couple of times. I remember one time sticking fries in our mouths like tusks when his back was turned, and we would whisper, “Hey, I’m talking to you!” We assumed he never heard us. The family usually stopped by his house Halloween night to show him our costumes and get that treat we couldn’t stop thinking about: a gigantic apple.

Grandpa Craner frequently brought us food from his garden, and sometimes his prize flowers. I remember trying to help him garden one year, and everyone was mad at him for some reason ;) He was a particular guy, I guess. I didn’t notice. When I got older, he would hand me a book he had been reading and explain what he got out of it to me. He underlined things here and there and I was horrified that he would write in his book with PEN. The dangly crystal lamps were cool, but I hated his toilet. It had a plastic cover on the seat that had a huge crack in it. It pinched sometimes.

Like Shawn, I respected him immensely. I don’t remember him ever being cross with me. He really was such a great man. We saw him all the time. He made an effort to be involved, and we loved going to see him. My last, most favorite memory of him: When dad switched the straw he had been using for the last 5 years. It was full of gunk inside, but he would keep reusing it. Dad found a whole box of straws in Grandpa’s cupboard, so dad put a new one in Grandpa’s drink when he wasn’t looking, and threw the old one away. Grandpa took a sip from his new straw and started choking haha! He wasn’t used to it coming out so fast. Am I wrong to assume that he went to the garbage and dug his old straw back out again…?

These are very immature memories, it is true. But I was just an immature, chubby little girl that loved to play. I remember their funerals. I have seen 3 dead bodies in my lifetime: Grandma Vi, Grandpa H. Larson, and Grandpa Craner. My three “great” grandparents.This may be a morbid way to end my memoirs, but—naturally—it is where my memories end.