Grandma

Sometime in 2009

Aug. 1, 1922-April 16, 2012

She was, is, will always be G. Dolores Marsh.  Born in Illinois, raised in Shelby, MT my paternal grandmother was one of the three Houde girls, before she became Mrs. Marsh.  I'm 38 (39 come September) and this is the first time I've known a world without my Grandma in it.  As I looked over her still, quiet form last month, I watched Tim (my oldest cousin), red-eyed and thoughtful.  Tim will be 50 this year--I think-- and he's in the same position as I am.  How many people get to be middle-aged and have their Grandmas?  How lucky were we, and how lost we are now.

Sam knew Grandma as "Dodi"-- a child's version of Dolores, coined by my Dad's cousin Ellen.  Likely during WWII, when my Grandma and her sister, Geri, lived together in Red Oak, IA.  Both girls had married Iowa boys, both had little girls before their husbands shipped off.  

Now, Sam's version of Grandma's name was "BIG Dodi."  From around the same time that his favorite phrase was "BIG truck!  BIG BACKHOE TRUCK!," this is the version we liked the best.  Including Grandma. 

 How much he remembers her, only time will tell.  But I do know this: while in Stockton and prepping for the funeral, every time we went over to Grandad's house, Sam always went to what had been Grandma's door.  He kept asking to go play in Dodi's yard.  He wanted to know why that had, seemingly, suddenly changed.

How do you explain nothing and everything to an almost-four-year old?

The Lid

We build caskets.
Hardly a family business, but very much family business.
My Dad does design and fabrication.  And carving, because we cannot do anything without words attached.
I do upholstery-- interiors.
It's never a solo effort.  Whoever you can imagine being involved is involved.

Grandma's box is pine and cedar.  The cedar makes it smell glorious.

The quote is from the hymn, "In The Garden."

"And He walks with me and He talks with me"

My Aunt Royce Ann picked it.  It was something that Grandma had noted was a favorite of her mother--even while the family isn't particularly religious.  But Royce Ann picked it because of my Dad, "You know, because he would take those walks with her," she explained.  Until Grandma went into Austin Gardens Memory Care, she and my father would walk around his large suburban block at least every other day. 

Yes, it does look like the box has fins like a 1950s Chevy.  Which makes it even more awesome.

The carved goldfinch by Jim Bartz.

Jim is a gifted artist and craftsman.  

Jim and my Dad (also Jim) have been playing music together since high school.

One of his favorite stories was always about having a belching contest with my Grandmother, initiated by her.  Jim and his family have been deeply and delightfully entwined with mine forever.  He had a special relationship with my Grandparents so he honored them by carving these exquisite birds for their caskets.  My grandpa's was a duck, with a tail feather that came out.  Grandma carried that carved feather everywhere with her for the past 19 years.  She has it in her hands now.    

Goldfinches came to my Grandma's bird feeder.  Seeing them was an unexpected treat for both she and my Dad.  In the last couple of years, sitting and watching the birds out her plate glass windows was one of her great joys.  

Grandma's box was lined on the sides with a pendleton blanket that had graced her bed for many years.  As Sam would say, cozy.

But there needed to be a cover for the mattress that she rested on.  Something to consider: she liked purple.  I took few photos of this element of the project, so I only have shots of the inside of the mattress lining.  The actual color is seen on the edges, below.  It's a gray lavender.  

      My Grandma could have a distinctly prickly personality.  There is no doubt she adored her grandchildren and great grandchildren, but how she demonstrated that...well, let's just say it varied.  And I often wondered -- as a kid--where I stood with her.  Until Sam.  She was inclined to adore him because he was a little boy, and she did have a soft spot for them.  She thought even more highly of him because he was Charlie's son, but she adored him because Sam is named after my Great-Grandfather, Grandma's Dad, Zepherin Houde.  Hence, Samuel Zephyr.

     When Sam was around 1 1/2-2, we were visiting Grandma and hanging out in her living room.  Birds started attacking the feeder just outside those big, plate glass windows and Sam was entranced.  Reacting like a 1.5 year old, he ran to the window, and began banging on it, thoroughly terrorizing the birds.  Grandma thought it was charming, I was slightly appalled and immediately offered to clean the bajillion handprints Sam had just plastered over the lower half of the window.  Grandma told me no.  "Leave them.  It reminds me of him" she said. "I'll just have to make sure That Girl..."

"You mean Mercedes, the cleaner?"

"Yes, I can never remember her name!" Mercedes had been working at Grandma's house once week for about a year at that point. "I'll tell her to leave them, but she gets to cleaning and I just don't know..."  

   It was a sweet, sentimental thing that stuck with me.  Later that day I was describing this exchange to my Mom.  "Oh," she casually added "Grandma used to do that with you, Sarah."

"What?!"

"Yes!  Do you remember in their house in Sunland, at the end of the hall was a door with a mirror...I think...anyhow, when you were Sam's age and we'd visit, you'd leave handprints all over the mirror and she'd say the same thing: leave them, it reminds me of her."   

Sam's Hand

     My Grandma was fastidious.  My Grandma had clean windows and mirrors.  This story was all I could think about as she lay dying and as I set to work designing the interior.
     This is what makes me cry.

     The handprints from all the grandkids and great-grandkids cascade down the length of the mattress cover.  What you see above is the reverse.  After tracing the outlines of all those handprints onto the right side of the fabric, I used a freehand attachment on the sewing machine and white felt backing to embroider in silver thread the register of her beloved grandsons, her favorite grand-daughter and all those greats.     

The Before Party

For a variety of reasons, mostly financial, my Grandmother's final trip was a road trip down I-5.  Most of my extended family is interred at Glen Haven Cemetery in Sylmar, CA.  It's where my Grandpa is buried, so that's where Grandma was going.  However, she passed away in Lodi, CA-- approximately 7 hours north of Sylmar.  You'd think there was some kind of special Dead People Transport with an airline, right? Wrong.  And it's expensive to have mortuaries do it.  

You see this one coming, don't you?

The only question the family had was, "He's not taking the truck is he?"  The Truck being my father's beloved/maligned/malingering 1968 light blue GM pickup truck with a low camper.  The truck that took my mom to the hospital to have me.  The truck that I learned to drive on.  The truck that we've often joked that my father will be buried in.  The truck that, at best, might be described as "crotchety" in its engine temperament.  All I offered was, "Worst. AAA call. Ever."  

My Dad rented a spiffy mini-van ("I have to bring the instruments and amps anyhow...") and drove my Grandma down in style.  He refrained from taking the box out and propping it up at scenic overlooks along the way.  But he drove down on a Sunday and the funeral was Monday morning.  So Grandma needed a place to stay and the mortuary at the cemetery was prohibitively expensive for one night.  

   

And this is how my Grandma ended up on sawhorses in my Aunt's great room, outside of Palmdale, CA, next to the dessert table.  

The night before the funeral, we all gathered to eat, be with Grandma and to listen to Grandma's house band rehearse for their gig the next day.  When my Dad started getting together to play music with Sam and Anthony, my Grandma was still up and around in her house.  She'd often make chili and share a meal with all of them, then stay for rehearsal to listen to her "house band."  Even when she stopped cooking, she was at every rehearsal they had, once a week, almost every week.  There was no question that Sam and Anthony would play for her, no question they would carry her casket.   



Jimmy and Ellen Roberts, Debbie Brackman-- Ellen and Debbie are my Dad's cousins, Jimmy is Ellen's husband.

Mom's Chili Boys:
Jim Marsh-Guitar, Dad, Grandad 

Sam Venable-Mandolin, Vocals, Big Brother

Anthony Kolafa- Bassist, Vocals, Arrangements, Extra Kid

Mom- Grandma, Mother, Chief Chili Maker and Head Audience Member

Dad playing, with his painting of Iowa behind him.

One of the above is the Beach Boys in a minor key.  NOT played at the funeral, but it's hard to knock a pre-party/wake with Beach Boys on the mandolin.

They did rehearse her favorite song, "Amelia Earhart." The lines below are from it.

There's a beautiful, beautiful field

Far away in a land that is fair

Happy landings to you...

    

'bye, Grandma.

I love you.

Preschool Madness

These would have been up sooner (story of my life) but my camera-to-computer cord "mysteriously" disappeared from Charlie's desk. My own fault for leaving it there, but I am innocent of everything else. Anyhoo, here is Sam Z. in all his glory on the First Day of Preschool.

Note the awesome bag. HOMEMADE because it's not enough that I'm writing a dissertation, teaching and attempting to keep a home, I must make a CUSTOM bag for a preschooler. It has monkeys. It has cars. It is vinyl-y. It is freakin' BAG LINED. For the first time in my life, I did bag lining on an *actual* bag.

Outside the school gate.

There are two Sams at his school-- hence Sam is "Sam Z." And everyone seems to think his last name is Marsh Krauter, so I think he's going to be utterly suprised when people address him as Sam Krauter when he gets to Kindergarten. The school is awsome. I haven't taken pictures inside because I don't want to weird anyone out (yet). It's in the Maple Leaf neighborhood and is just a residential home turned into kid paradise. Two fat, friendly cats live there! They have a huge yard! And Sam walked in and was totally (and continues to be) disinterested in my presence or lack of. Frankly, it was more traumatic (and not much) for C and I.

Some other eye candy from March...

A particularly nice photo of the Tomtem jacket (Elizabeth Zimmerman) that Nana made. It has welt pockets. People are frequently awestruck.

Sam likes to wash dishes. Monk likes to help.

Good Lord, my child must not be photogenic anymore

Either that, or I've got a job, family and dissertation. Lookit me! I'm a modern woman! Thanks Mom and all of those who suffered through the feminist revolution.

"Maybe...Yes!"

This is Sam's new reply to any yes or no questions. So today I said "maybe...YES" to a new post. This has been the moment where I have finally felt like/had time/had a kid willing to tolerate loading pictures and chatting since before the new year. I have been busy-- happy busy, but busy enough to remind me that I do not multi-task well. That said, I have been taking pictures, so there is a photographic record of this period, whether published on the interwebs or not! This is what we have been doing lately, in no particular order.

Last weeked was gorgeous, so we finally (I'm talking to you, Grandad) took the wagon out of the house. A church up the hill had mulched a tree, so there was a tempting free pile of chips-- and a sign that even said "Free!" We filled the wagon and scored a couple of outside trucks from another neighborhood "Free" pile.

(Free piles appear to be a big Seattle thing. Awful handy for scavenging.)

In other news:

Potty Training!

I had to lobby hard to get this one into the blog.

C was completely against it.

But this is how he runs around most days-- shirt, nothing, shoes. Like the signs say, "No shirt, no shoes, no service." Well, this way he can go to our local French bakery and be okay.

Another teenage Sam look.

Breakfast with the Cat Minion

Playing in the sink

"Whoa...my hand got TOTALLY wet!"
A walk around the neighborhood, before we picked up Nana at the airport.
Very big into tossing balls around outside. Good way to run a toddler down.

The beloved rock pile on the corner of 67th

Hanging out on someone's parking strip. Evidently utility covers hold great fascination to toddler boys.

Boy, With Sticks.

And a puddle.

"I put SuperLamb on Monk. It makes him feel COZY. Make him feel better."

Sam's got a thing for "button shirts" right now. He DOES NOT want something going over his head. So I snagged three from Target and we have a truly fantastic hawaiian print one that we circulate. You'll be seeing a lot of plaid. I like the orange one, above, best. Of course, it sets off Monk well.

The potty training is going reasonably well. We're focusing on daytime work right now, but he seems to be getting the general idea of things. I find it more disgusting than diapers, but I can't pinpoint why. However, I do love the idea of the two giant boxes from Costco being the last boxes I will buy. We are going to have to ease him away from the notion that Mama or Dad will read "Curious George" out loud for every toileting event. "Curious George" is long. Very, very long.

While Nana was here, Sam figured out how to ride the tricycle we acquired from C's co-worker. Once C gave it a tune-up, Sam started tearing around the 'hood. Downhill is great, but since we live in a sub-neighborhood of Ballard called (alternately) Crown Hill and Whittier Heights, right next to Phinney Ridge, you can sense that there is an equal amount of uphill for the down. Tricycles do not have a good low gear.

We spend as much time outside as possible. It's the typical "June Gloom" right now, but it's warmer and this boy needs to move. He's figured out how to hop (I'm not sure that sports are really in his future) and talks like a maniac. He still hangs out with his buddy Holden (and the fantabulous Meg, mom of Holden and life saver of Sarah) and the sharing is getting better. There's hope for socialization yet! He will not live as if raised by the cats!

Happy Mother's Day!

Happy Mother's Day to all of you who take care of all of us!




(Apologies for the mouth full of food-- the only way to get him to sit still!)

We love you all so much and miss you even more!
Sarah Graceful
Little Charlie
Sammy Z.

Happy Birthday Nana!

With you, everything is better.

We love you!

Good Job, Mama

To say it's been busy is a wild understatement. But I would like to relate a couple stories that continue to illuminate the character of Samuel Zephyr.

1. Snow
As last night's snow turned to slushy mush, Sam and I took a walk. Fresh air is a necessity in our lives. Sam stopped and was picking up clumps of snow-- snow-wads rather than snowballs-- and tossing them down the sidewalk. My response is usually a "Hey, nice one" of "Good job" to the thud of wet snow on pavement. He then turns to me and says, "Mama do it." I oblige. Sam offers,"Good work, Mama!"

2. Drinks
Over Christmas, while at my mother's house, we were all relaxing in the living room. Sam approaches me with his sippy cup full of milk and stands before me, offering/demanding "Mama drink!"
"Oh, no thank you. Mama doesn't like milk." I reply.
He withdraws the cup and looks at me seriously for a moment, nods slightly and says, "Mama drink beer."
In between snorts of laughter, Charlie offers that Mama prefers wine, but Sam seems unimpressed and sticks to his first assertion.

He is a frank and delightful kid.

I'm glad he's here to tell it straight and give me the occasional "good job" right now. He's going to have to replace someone who was very good at that, for me: S. Nina Pinckard-Fechtner. Yesterday I got the tragic news that Nina had died suddenly over this past weekend. Nina was my friend, my boss and a mentor from the time I was 19. She was the Costume Director at SRT in Santa Rosa, the Costume Shop Manager at CSUS and the woman who built my wedding dress. She was one of the best cutter/drapers I ever knew and one of the best collaborators I ever had the privelege to work with. The things I learned from her, I can't even begin to count. She leaves behind her beautiful family, a group that is a model for the kind of relationship I hope to have with Sam. Nina was a straightforward, no b.s. person with an ever so slight gruff exterior. Behind that, she loved her husband Don, and kids Katie and Eric deeply. It is a far grimmer world without her in it. But the world is so much better for Nina having been a part of it.