My Grandma Ethel Emmer, born January 21, 1922, died on February 24, 2008. She was 86 years old. It took me a long while to come up with the courage and motivation to post this.
Grandma was everything to everyone. My parents divorced when I was very young. Since my mom was pretty much a housewife at that point in her life, she had to go back to school to put herself in a position to take care of me. My Grandpa and Grandma Emmer took care of me in the interim. In many ways, they raised me.
I was a troubled child, which is probably to be expected when your parents divorce at such a young age. I threw temper tantrums; I always had to get my way. Despite this, Grandma was always there. Granted, it might have been her “being there” with a meter stick in her hand because us kids got into trouble (and we probably deserved it!).
I remember all of her quirks. Like calling the couch a “davenport”. How her house was filled with–and surrounded by–plants of all shapes and sizes. We used to spend long hours pulling weeds in the garden, planting strawberries and carrots and cabbages and potatoes and tomatoes. She loved to garden, and she was good at it. I remember most the marigolds and snapdragons. Us kids (kids = myself and my cousins David and Daniel) would munch on fresh chives from the garden.
When I was little we planted trees out in the back yard. They were saplings, then. What a surprise I had when I visited that little shack last year and saw how huge they had become.
She also loved to play video games, which is probably my fault. I would come for summer break and bring my Nintendo (and, later, my SNES). She never could beat Super Mario Brothers, but she sure did try. I can’t really say Grandpa approved, either, which is probably another reason she liked to play.
We would stay up late at night watching M.A.S.H. reruns while playing King’s Corners, or Yahtzee, or Crazy Eights. She used to give me little cough syrup caps of beer. We would go for walks in the Waupun cemetary in the summer. We caught bullheads in the Rock River.
All these memories, these nuggets of nostalgia–they glow like freshly blown glass in a dark room. She was a nexus, a focal point, the keystone that held us all together. She gave us everything she had, every day, and never asked for a shred in return.
I miss her. We all do.
-Russ
