Adventures with Grandma
Grandma’s recipe for life was simple; a pinch of love, a dash of fun and endless servings of hugs. Every visit with Grandma was an adventure, since I can remember. Whether she was digging in the garden, or baking in the kitchen, there was a tale to tell from her childhood.
A proud Lutheran Swede from Cambridge, Minnesota, Edith Erickson Haluska loved sharing stories of her humble beginnings. Many of which, she repeated. “I was born in a box” she said, referring to the way “Ma kept her and her twin sister Evelyn, who were born premature, warm on the wood burning stove in a dresser drawer.” Times were tough on the farm for the Erickson family. Somehow, they managed to get by and there was never a shortage of love to go around.
Before she was swept off her feet by my Grandpa, she worked as a beauty operator in a hair salon. As the story goes, it was love at first sight when Grandpa came into the shop on a sales call. Three to four months later, they were married. It was not with the blessing of either family. They came from different backgrounds and religions. Eventually, both families came around to accept the marriage, which produced five children and numerous grandchildren.
As the first born of the cousins, I had a front row seat for adventures with Grandma, which usually began in the kitchen. Visions of that galley style cozy room stirs up memories of large family gatherings. I can still smell the fresh baked pumpkin bread and Swedish pancakes. Summer picnics weren’t a party without her famous potato salad and slices of juicy watermelon. I picture Grandma in her apron with pockets that appeared magical, filled with whatever was needed in a crisis, from bandaids to bug spray.
Sleepovers at my grandparents house were the best. Rules were made to be broken, junk food and soda pop were unlimited. “Just don’t tell your parents…or I’ll be in trouble,” she’d chuckle. She’d usually help us convince Grandpa to make a late night ice cream run for peppermint bon-bon, our favorite.
Our ever expanding Catholic family produced 15 cousins, which meant a full cast of characters for our world of make believe. Grandma’s secret garden offered the perfect stage for our performances. We made elaborate costumes out of scraps of fabric and put on shows in the backyard. We thought we were pretty cool. Because Grandma let us think we were. The truth is, our singing was probably as off key as the old piano we pounded on in the basement. We made a lot of noise, but she didn’t care. As long as we didn’t wake Grandpa from his nap before Gunsmoke came on.
Grandma was usually busy cooking in the kitchen or tending her garden, but she was never too busy for her grandkids. Always willing to drop what she was doing, get down on the ground and play hide and seek, or a favorite board game. Her competitive nature and willingness to try anything was contagious. She taught me how to play bridge, golf and croquet.
Years later, Grandma was still a good sport about playing whatever game our kids made up. Our four year old son, Mitchell, convinced her to play a game of cops and robbers, as we left her in charge of him for a short while. When we returned, Mitchell told us he had handcuffed the bad guy to the bed. The bad guy, turned out to be Grandma. Luckily, we found they key and were able to safely release her from the toy handcuffs. Grandma’s wrist was a little red, but she still had her sense of humor intact. That was the last time she babysat Mitchell.
You always knew where you stood with Grandma. There was no mincing words or holding back opinions. Honest advice was what she doled out, whether you liked it or not. During my teenage years, she noticed a change even before I did, blurting out, “ You need a bra. I’ll get my purse and we’ll go shopping for one right this instant.” I was mortified. Somehow, she made the awkward moment fleeting, and the outing fun. We celebrated with lunch afterwards at the Bubbling Kettle, our favorite Daytons restaurant.
A calendar full of phone numbers and messages was Grandma’s way of keeping track of everyone. It looked like a mess to me, but somehow the system worked for her. I believe there was magic in the mess, which often led to our adventures together. She was always up for an impromptu excursion, and we enjoyed many.
Road trips to the cabin with my grandparents were my introduction to the classic supper club scene and relish trays. I never did acquire a taste for pickled herring, but I tried it, just so I could have my “Shirley Temple” with our Friday fish fry.
My grandparents were always there for me to share in life’s milestones. Whether we were in the kitchen cooking up recipes, or on a road trip together, I cherish the memories. Patchwork quilts she lovingly stitched together as christening and weddings gifts, have become family heirlooms. Now, I will pass those on, along with Grandma’s recipes for food and life to my children. Although Grandma is gone, her legacy lives on and the adventures continue. I’m sure she’s enjoying the view from above with Grandpa, and having a scotch on the rocks to toast what would have been her 105th birthday! I wrote a poem to honor her today.
Grandma’s Recipe for Life
A pinch of love.
A dash of fun.
A secret garden.
An apron with magic pockets.
An endless supply of hugs.
A guardian angel hovering from above.
Happy heavenly birthday, Grandma!
More Adventures with Grandma
Hungry for more of my grandparents stories and recipes? Join me as I go Haluskanting Over the Blue Danube and read U-Hauls Never Follow A Hearse. Find favorite recipes; including Grandma’s Swedish Pancakes and Potato Salad, plus Grandpa’s Holubki.