Tribute to a Living Hero

The definition of a hero is someone who is revered for great courage. Immediate images that come to many people's minds when the word is used might be John Wayne, Spiderman, John Glenn, or the New York City emergency crews who worked so valiantly during 9/11. These are all heroes, to be sure, but my thoughts go to a great woman that I know personally and intimately-my grandmother.

What great courage has this ninety-six-year old woman shown? She has had the courage, tenacity and spirit to live more than nine decades; to remain positive; to find a reason to get out of bed each day; to continue to contribute to family and society with her selfless activities.

Grandma lived through the Depression, raising three children and supplementing her husband's meager income as a garbage collector and cook. She made clothes for herself and her family; tended a garden; took care of the family cow from which milk and butter were obtained-butter she churned at home. There were chickens to feed and eggs to gather. Living successfully through that time period made her a practical and frugal person.

She saw her husband drafted for World War II when he should have been exempted from service due to having three children and not meeting height requirements. The "war to end all wars" required skills her husband had, running telegraph and telephone wires in the European corridors. She and her family weathered the rations and the absence of a male in the household, as did so many other families of the time. Her family was more fortunate than some, as her husband returned home from his tour of duty with his life and without any physical injuries.

When employment opportunities in her hometown dwindled, Grandma and the family moved to Grandpa's hometown to begin anew. It is still the place that Grandma calls home. It was during those early years after the move that she and Grandpa began to nurture a dream that would provide for their future years.

While many dreams don't come true, my grandparents realized theirs after many years of working hard and saving every chance they could. They were able to purchase multiple lots of undeveloped land that they envisioned as ideal residential settings.

More hard work ensued for both my Grandma and Grandpa. The land had to be cleared before any thought to building could be given. Much of that land clearing was done by the two of them. I can recall my Grandma's arms peppered with the rash of poison ivy on more than one occasion throughout the process.

Eventually, the land was cleared and the first home was built. In total, six homes were built by a contractor, with my grandparents doing a majority of the finishing work, such as putting up sheet rock, laying carpet, etc. Grandma was there side-by-side with Grandpa throughout each step of the way.

My grandparents enjoyed almost fifty years of marriage when Grandpa's body-never his mind-succumbed to cancer. My grandmother was in her late sixties at the time, and we, the family, were concerned with what quality of life Grandma would have as a widow.

Always a church-going woman, Grandma continued to attend church services and made new and strengthened old friendships with women in the congregation. We needn't have worried about Grandma. Although she grieved the loss of her husband, she never allowed her grief to overwhelm her or to dampen her zest for life.

Until sometime in her eighth decade, Grandma planted and tended flower gardens in her yard. She drove her own car until about that same time, reluctantly but wisely deciding that she would stop driving before she hurt herself or someone else. The president of the women's society at church for a number of years, Grandma voluntarily handed over the reins, although she still attends society meetings.

Over the years of my childhood, she made many, many dresses, coats, skirts, and even elephant bell pants for me. She's crocheted scarves and blankets, sewn quilts and embroidered and needle-pointed more items than I can count. Her needle point canvas of The Last Supper, measuring something like 18" X 36" was donated to the church in honor of my grandfather. For each of her children and each of us grandchildren she has crocheted from string a 2' x 3' Lord's Prayer. Each of her great-grandchildren have been welcomed into this world with their own special afghan.

Today, she enjoys crocheting sweaters that the church sends to children in its various missions around the world. There are at least 600 children who are warm with Grandma's sweaters.

But most of all, it is my heart that is warm with the love of my grandmother and the love I have for her. I was at my grandparent's home almost as much as my own as I was growing up. She and Grandpa always made me feel special and welcome. Though the miles separate us physically these days, there is nothing that can break the bond we have together.

She is a spunky lady, my grandmother. I hope that her zest for life never flags her, and I hope it is within me, too.