Remembering Grammy Martin

gram mAnother summer day and I want to visit Grammy Martin. Curt is playing with his trucks in the dirt again, and I hop the rocks across the brook and run the path across the field to my grandparents’ farm. Gram is always glad to see me and smile. She is the sweetest person and makes the best raisin-filled cookies I’ve ever tasted. She is on the way to gather the eggs, so she tells me she needs help. I know she doesn’t but that is the way Grammy is. We stop and she pulls some straight green narrow stalks from her garden. She hands me one and keeps one for herself to nibble on. It tastes like onions. She cautions me about the rooster, as she unlatches the hen house and tells me not to pick up the china eggs in the nests and then giggles because she tells me that every time. She scoots the rooster to the side of the coop and quickly gathers all the eggs in her basket and out the door we go before the rooster changes his mind.

I love the little blue sneakers she always wears and she wipes them over and over before we go into the kitchen, so I make sure I do the same. She has a woodbox, that actually has a cover on it so it can be used for a seat. Up on the shelf over the woodbox is a little log cabin that smells like pine if you light it. And oh, the cute little dutch boy and girl who tell what the weather is going to be!  I love this kitchen. It is so warm and cozy and the water comes out of the pipe running into the sink holding tank is so neat. That is where we get all our drinking water. There is a huge hole at the top of the tank where lightning hit once and Uncle Louis, who lives with Grammy says  it almost blew him across the kitchen. I guess it followed the pipe down from the spring in the pasture hill. He says that was sure a close call.

Grammy has a sewing machine on her porch and sometimes I sit out there with her while she sews on her quilts. We don’t have to say anything. She sews and I look out over the pond and watch the boats and fishermen going by.  I know she knits , too, because every Christmas she makes us hats and mittens and they are really warm!

The porch is always the gathering place for Sunday visitors. Frank and Leah Waterhouse come and visit and once in awhile a man named Fred Davis comes and brings his banjo. I love to come over and hear him play.  Grammy has so many of her family off fighting the war and I know she enjoys company. Grampa Martin doesn’t say much. He uses a cane, covered with blackjack gum and sometimes two canes. I think he has arthritis, but no one ever has said. I don’t think he likes kids that much, though he has eight of his own. He acts pretty grumpy but maybe because his sons Dwight and Glenn are off fighting the war and so is his grandson Junior Martin.  Sometimes I come over on a Sunday afternoon when there is company. Someone always wants me to sing “There’s a Star Spangled Banner Waving Somewhere” and each time I sing it, I get a quarter.  Grammy likes that song and I know it makes her think of her sons. She has a scrapbook and every time their names or pictures are in the newspaper, she cuts them out and pastes them in it.

Grammy doesn’t come to visit us very often, even though we are right next door. I think between waiting on Grampa and making butter and all the farm chores, she doesn’t have time. When Ma sees her coming up the driveway, she says, oh, no, even though she likes Grammy. Ma knows our house is not as nice or neat and clean as it should be or maybe that is just the way she thinks.  I think it is fine and Grammy always comes in and makes herself at home. She doesn’t stay long because she is so busy.

If I could choose to be like anyone, I would want to be like my Gram. She always smiles and never has a bad thing to say about anyone. When I told Ma that, she told me I have a lot of practicing to do. I guess she is right!






5 thoughts on “Remembering Grammy Martin

  1. Sharon says:

    Another trip down memory lane, and here I didn’t think I remembered much about my childhood until now. The little Dutch girl and boy weather barometer. I think ours turned pink if the weather was going to be good, and blue if it was going to rain. And how about those little black and white Scotties that were magnets. I loved them.

    I could visualize your Gram wearing her blue sneakers and also the little log cabin that smelled like pine when lit. I had so forgotten about all those things. Guess I repressed a lot of it…I don’t know why.

    Love your stories and am always excited to read what’s coming next. Great job, Sandy.


  2. Great job of writing! You have a real talent there. I am so computer Un-savvy..I tried to write a comment, but got stuck when I attempted to send it. Must I join something? R

    Sent from my iPad



    • No, Roy, if you scroll to the bottom of the blog page you should be able to comment. If you can’t, don’t worry. You don’t have to join anything. I am just pleased that you read the blog and enjoyed it. You apparently did something right as they sent it to me to approve your comment! Thanks so much for taking the time to do this!!!


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