By Mermaid Debbie
I feel very fortunate to have had two very special Grandmothers, each unique and fabulous in their own way. I cherish every single, wonderful memory!
My Grandma, Ellen Boyes was above all else… kind. Kindness is huge in my book! I never once heard her say anything negative about anyone. She was not a gossip, and I respected that about her. I'm fairly sure she thought things that were not so pretty about some people, but she refrained from expressing them.
Grandma was the daughter of Norwegian Immigrants, who came on the boat through Ellis Island while her mom was pregnant with her. They settled in Bowden, North Dakota, a small farming community. Grandma had a total of seven children. One baby died shortly after birth. In around 1942 or 1943 she and her husband, my Grandpa Richard Boyes, packed up their five children and moved across the country. They settled in Cheney, a small town in Eastern Washington. Their children were John, Glenn, Margaret, Joanne, and my mom, Phyllis. She was the youngest, at two years old. Five years later they had another boy named Lynn. I was named Deborah Lynn after my uncle.
My Grandpa Richard died when I was ten and my brother, eight. It was our first experience with death. I can still remember Grandma saying goodbye to him, her love of all those years.
Grandma was a wonderful cook, baker, gardener, mom,and grandma. She was a working woman, as well: a cook in the cafeteria at Eastern Washington University. My brother and I loved visiting her there and being treated to that college food of piles of mashed potatoes, Swiss steak and gravy. We secretly thought she looked funny in her hair net, but were proud of the way she was loved by the students and all of her co-workers. I have a memory of seeing her standing in the huge kitchen, stirring a giant kettle of mashed potatoes, taller than me. She was so strong!
Speaking of strong… she used to braid my hair so fast and tight that my eyes became slanted, with the pulling. I was ten years old and looked like I had a face lift! Worse yet, it was always after a bath and a rinsing of my hair with vinegar, which she insisted was necessary to maintain healthy, shiny hair. My hair was squeaky clean and smelled awful, but it sure did shine! Grandma had long, auburn hair that she coiled up in a bun. I'll never forget the shock of seeing her hair fall past her shoulders as she took it out of the hair pins. I had no idea that Grandma's hair was long. I thought it just naturally coiled into that bun!
Grandma wore dentures. My brother John and I never tired of asking her to... "Take out your teeth, Grandma, Pleasssssssssssssssse?!" She would say no and then do it for us anyway. We were amazed and bragged about it to our friends. "My Grandma can take out her teeth!"
She was also a good sport. John and I used to stay with her all the time and she put up with our constant bickering with humor. She used to say, "All right… quit your arguing and go to fighting!" That was enough to stop us, at least long enough to ponder what the heck that meant? Another favorite of hers when we were arguing was, "Silence in the courtroom! The judge is eating peanuts!" I have no idea where that came from, but we sure did hear it a lot! He and I also used to argue about who would get the privilege of sleeping with Grandma. It was cozy and felt special, but mostly it was so much fun to watch her get up out of bed in the morning! She had read somewhere that it was important to get the circulation going before you got out of bed. So, she would stick up both of her legs, rotate her ankles a couple of times and very quickly…swing her legs to the side and POP out of bed!!!! It was amazing!
Grandma had a peculiar habit of sticking her tongue out, just a little bit, when she was concentrating on her embroidery or crocheting. I used to say, "Grandma, you are sticking out your tongue." As a child, I had learned that sticking out your tongue was not nice! She did it all of the time, and I felt the need to remind her most of the time. One time, as my family was pulling away from the curb, after spending the week with her, she stood at her door and stuck her tongue out as far as she could at me. That gesture was especially for me, and I realized that she was being funny. From that day forward, every time I left my Grandma, she would stick her tongue out at me, and I would do it back.
I miss her. Writing about her makes me happy and a bit sad; as I wipe away the tears and count the years that she has been gone from here but never far from me.
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