Christmas 1956 my grandmother received a new camera and sothe winter 1957 is well documented by her. Sadly one of my grandmother’s quirkswith her early onset Alzheimer’s was to take all of her prints and store themin Ball Jars. I remember as a little girl about 4 or 5 sitting on their long porchwith a glass of Sweet Tea and lemon cookies, opening the jars and going throughthem. I often would find a picture that would catch my eye. I would sneak andtuck the picture away in my pocket. I always felt a bit naughty doing this butlooking back I see in a way I was rescuing them. By the time I was old enough to realize thiswas not the way to store pictures most were lost but for the few that I snuckin my pockets.
Growing up in Kansas I do not remember winters to be very bad. Compared to the winters we have in Northern Illinois were we live now. I recall only one snow storm that left snow for a few days but it did not take long for it to melt. I think that is why Grandma Green’s snow pictures I found from early 1957 from Michigan captivated me. My Grandpa Green would often talk about the snow storms they would get and how the snow would just pile up all the way to the roof line. If I had not seen pictures I do not know if I would have believed him.
One of the few that I smuggled out of blue Ball jar was of my Grandfather sitting on a sled. Grandpa loved to fish no matter the season and often would take fishing trips up in Northern Michigan. I cannot imagine having fun in negative degree temps but he sure did.
I loved my Grandpa very much and as a little girl I fancied the man I would wed would be just like my Grandpa Green. I thought him very handsome, kind, strong. He loved nature and working with his hands. He was powerful yet when it came to caring for my grandmother he was gentle, soft spoken and patience with her.
He took me out on the ice once. We had moved to Indiana and winters were a bit worse than in Kansas. The ice was thick as it hovered over a little pool that formed off to the side of the river that ran by our house. I was so afraid of falling in. He quietly coxed me to come out and sit with him.
He had drilled a small hole and had a string dangling in the water. Much like he did in the picture I snatched from the Ball jar. We did not talk we just sat enjoying the sounds of winter. The breeze was gently rustling the last few leaves that were clinging to the trees. Every once in a while we would hear a snap of a twig or branch. We had had an ice storm that took out the power and the weight of the ice on the old trees in our little woods would creek and crack and then snap off.
Grandpa shared how he and his brothers would go fishing before his mama died. He started talking and reminiscing then he got chocked up. He was not a man that cried so it was hard to see him emotional. Knowing what I know now I realized life was hard for them especially after their mother died. By the time we were sitting together there on that ice he had not been in contact with most of his 18 siblings in over 10 years. Before I could ask him any questions, my mama called for me to come home and grandpa shooed me away. As I turned and gave him one last look he winked at me and singled for me to keep this little excursion a secret….