Sensible Seniors

For many years my grandson Sam repeatedly asked me to retell stories of my family or some of my adventures when I was young. Again and again I would tell them. He always loved hearing them. Finally, I decided that a perfect gift for him would be a permanent record of them and a few others. So, the Gramma-Grams were born in March, 2003 when I put a series of events down on paper and sent them to Sam on his upcoming 10th birthday.

In thinking about this, I know all of you out there have stories to tell that your grandchildren or perhaps your children haven’t heard and even if they have heard them sometime in the past, a written record of them would be something to last for the ages and to pass onto generation after generation. And you grandpas, you have great stories too. Get writing. If you don’t type, or have a computer, write it down. Something in your own handwriting is even better. This is also a time consuming project, so it is one more thing we can do in our retirement to fill time and to do something that will bring joy to you just remembering favorite times, and give your family some insight to what makes you, you.

Now, I will relate one of my “Gramma-Grams” which not only reveals something of past history, but perhaps also shows where character building and heroes came from in our lives.

My grandmother “Nellie” Hartley was my most loved person and most responsible for everything good in my young life, and there will be many references to her throughout my life’s story.

I don’t think Gram was 5-feet tall, maybe close, but she was a giant of strength, love and goodness. Life was not easy for Nellie. She was married to a fun loving, hard drinking Irishman. He was an identical twin, so identical, they would often play tricks on people, pretending to be the other. Even Gram was fooled occasionally. He wasn’t the most responsible as far as jobs went so the family fortunes were left to Nellie to provide. She had raised two sons and a daughter, losing another child at the age of four. In the early thirties Gram owned a bakery and did all of the baking with Grampa delivering goods by wagon. I remember his picking me up after school when I was in the first grade and giving me rides home. He allowed me to dip into the donuts or an éclair on these rides. Life was good. Have you noticed how often in my different stories I mention donuts? Unfortunately, he passed away shortly after that and Gram closed the bakery and opened the Hartley Guest House in Misquamicut, Rhode Island, on the beach. She ran this business for many years until the hurricane of 1938 sent the house flying down the road with Gram in it, and washed away all the houses on the beach. Gram in true fashion went back the next year and started over again, and the old crowds returned and there she remained until another hurricane destroyed the beach front again. The state determined then that no homes could be built on this beach site, so she moved down the road to Watch Hill and again her customers followed her and for good reason.

Gram was a world class cook. All the guests ate three meals a day at her Guest House. The breakfast bell would ring at 8 a.m. and started with oatmeal or cold cereal, bacon and eggs, pancakes, French toast, homemade muffins, juice, and when lucky, homemade donuts, still warm. After breakfast guests would go out to the beach for sun and great ocean surf. God, I wish I were there now.

The bell would ring at 1 p.m. for the midday meal. Homemade soups started the meal and each day of the week had its specialty. Monday was roast beef, fresh vegetables, hot rolls and two or three wonderful pies. Her apple pie was to die for. Friday was always baked fish, and wonderful clam chowder. Thursday was corned beef and cabbage. Saturday night was always homemade baked beans, baked ham, potato salad. Sunday dinner was always roast turkey and the pie was banana cream. After the dinner cleanup, Gram would get a two hour rest before putting final touches on supper, which was a little lighter than the earlier meal, not much. No wonder they kept coming back. As a teenager I worked for Gram during the summer making beds, cleaning, waiting on tables, etc. This gave me money for school clothes while I had the greatest time in this special place.

I could go on forever, but will save something for a later column. The point in writing this down is simply, I wish I knew more about my grandmother’s life and her childhood and family, but in those days, sadly, families were very closed mouthed and children were to be seen and not heard, and so a lot of history is forever lost. Most of Gram’s family died early in life and there were few if any sources of information, so put down your story for all to know and understand who you are and why you are.

JOKE OF THE DAY: You know you are getting old when everything hurts and what doesn’t hurt, doesn’t work.

You feel like the morning after and you haven’t been anywhere.

Please send your comments, suggestions or stories to Brenda Baer, 234 Wellington Dr., Laconia, NH 03246 or Dorothy Duffy, 47 Whipple Ave., Laconia, or e-mail to the Sun at news@laconiadailysun.com

— Brenda Baer