Thursday, December 02, 2004
Growing Up with Baba
My first memories of Baba (Czech for "Granny") were associated with the smells of her cooking and her very distinctive voice. She lived with our family and helped raise us kids since our parents worked. And we helped take care of her when she got older too. I remembered being awakened every morning by the slam of our screen door as she walked down the driveway to pick up our morning newspaper. She would then drink a 6-1/2 oz. Coke out of the bottle while taking two aspirin. We always wondered why she had this little ritual. She was helping to keep her blood thin 50 years before modern medicine proved that this was the way to keep your heart healthy.
Next she would start rattling the pots and pans in the cupboard. It was time to brew her morning cup of tea and get breakfast started. I was always scared of that cup of tea because she would tell me that the tea bag was actually a mouse and chase me around the kitchen with it. If it was Friday, she would get her bread dough ready to rise and get her bean soup started cooking and make the noodles. Sometimes we would have haluski on Fridays, and the smell of cabbage and onions would fill the kitchen. As a small child, I would run in and out of the kitchen, checking on the progress of all that she was cooking. Usually around mid-morning, we'd go through the alleyway and wind up over at Aunt Mary's back door a few blocks away for a few minutes so that she could see what they were having for lunch. We'd stick our heads in Uncle Jack's bedroom door and say "Hi" before running home to finish lunch. Uncle Jack was bedridden with arthritis for many years.
Then lunch time finally rolled around. Dad would drive in from the farm and pick Mom up for lunch. Baba and she would watch "As The World Turns" before Dad took Mom back to work. After lunch, Baba would walk to town with my sister Carol and me. We'd go to Sterling's dime store and look at the trinkets. If we were good, she'd buy us some candy to eat on the walk back home. We'd also stop in Belk Jones and do a little window shopping there. Baba had a lot of friends we'd see on our little excursion. She reacted nearly the same way anytime she saw someone she knew. "God damn, son of a bitch, what the hell are you doing here?" was her usual greeting to anyone she met. It didn't matter who it was or their religion. Baptist, Catholic, or Methodist, she greeted them all the same. You just knew that when you saw Baba, that you were going to probably hear a curse word! Other than that, she was a very religious woman, faithfully praying her rosary every night, and you would also see her in line at the confessional every Sunday morning to ask forgiveness before Mass started.
Usually on the way back home from our tour of the town, we'd stop back by Aunt Mary's house. Sometimes we'd find her watching her favorite soap operas. If it was later in the day, Aunt Mary would be relaxing and drinking a beer. Baba liked to have a shot of Old Crow whiskey, and she always took a piece of bread after she took her shot. Maybe that's what her aspirin was for? Late afternoons would find Baba back in the kitchen making supper. We kids would go outside and play. If we were out too long, she would pull a switch off of one of her bushes and come looking for us. If she caught us, we would get swatted on the back of the calf with the switch. We learned to run very fast!
I also remember Baba going to our neighbor's house and swiping tomatoes as she needed them. They gave her their permission to get what she needed, but she would always wait until they were not at home to go get them. I'll always remember the time after her stroke when she was getting around with the aid of a walker. She was missing from the house, and I went to go find her. I looked all over the neighborhood for her, and then I found her, standing in the middle of the Allen's garden, with the walker stuck deep in the mud. I helped her pull it out, but we never did find the rubber stoppers from the bottom of the walker. The pharmacy was very puzzled when we called to order replacements.
I attended Mass with Baba as I was growing up. We always dropped by Aunt Mary's house and picked her up when she needed a ride. This was usually when her daughter-in-law (her usual ride) had to work Sundays at the Riceland Hotel. When I was a teenager, I would sometimes drive Baba to church. One Saturday afternoon we were running just a little late for Mass. The priest was standing at the back of the church putting on his robes when Baba said, "Oh hell! We're late again!" Father smiled and shook his finger at her. I was totally mortified, and my face was about fifty shades of red.
Living with Baba and growing up around her was an experience I wouldn't trade with anyone. She taught me how to cook ("a handful of this, a pinch of that") and embroider and how to pray. She was a strong woman who stood up for what she believed in and taught her family the values they needed to be successful in life. A bowl of her soup and a slice of homemade bread made the world just a little more bearable.
Next she would start rattling the pots and pans in the cupboard. It was time to brew her morning cup of tea and get breakfast started. I was always scared of that cup of tea because she would tell me that the tea bag was actually a mouse and chase me around the kitchen with it. If it was Friday, she would get her bread dough ready to rise and get her bean soup started cooking and make the noodles. Sometimes we would have haluski on Fridays, and the smell of cabbage and onions would fill the kitchen. As a small child, I would run in and out of the kitchen, checking on the progress of all that she was cooking. Usually around mid-morning, we'd go through the alleyway and wind up over at Aunt Mary's back door a few blocks away for a few minutes so that she could see what they were having for lunch. We'd stick our heads in Uncle Jack's bedroom door and say "Hi" before running home to finish lunch. Uncle Jack was bedridden with arthritis for many years.
Then lunch time finally rolled around. Dad would drive in from the farm and pick Mom up for lunch. Baba and she would watch "As The World Turns" before Dad took Mom back to work. After lunch, Baba would walk to town with my sister Carol and me. We'd go to Sterling's dime store and look at the trinkets. If we were good, she'd buy us some candy to eat on the walk back home. We'd also stop in Belk Jones and do a little window shopping there. Baba had a lot of friends we'd see on our little excursion. She reacted nearly the same way anytime she saw someone she knew. "God damn, son of a bitch, what the hell are you doing here?" was her usual greeting to anyone she met. It didn't matter who it was or their religion. Baptist, Catholic, or Methodist, she greeted them all the same. You just knew that when you saw Baba, that you were going to probably hear a curse word! Other than that, she was a very religious woman, faithfully praying her rosary every night, and you would also see her in line at the confessional every Sunday morning to ask forgiveness before Mass started.
Usually on the way back home from our tour of the town, we'd stop back by Aunt Mary's house. Sometimes we'd find her watching her favorite soap operas. If it was later in the day, Aunt Mary would be relaxing and drinking a beer. Baba liked to have a shot of Old Crow whiskey, and she always took a piece of bread after she took her shot. Maybe that's what her aspirin was for? Late afternoons would find Baba back in the kitchen making supper. We kids would go outside and play. If we were out too long, she would pull a switch off of one of her bushes and come looking for us. If she caught us, we would get swatted on the back of the calf with the switch. We learned to run very fast!
I also remember Baba going to our neighbor's house and swiping tomatoes as she needed them. They gave her their permission to get what she needed, but she would always wait until they were not at home to go get them. I'll always remember the time after her stroke when she was getting around with the aid of a walker. She was missing from the house, and I went to go find her. I looked all over the neighborhood for her, and then I found her, standing in the middle of the Allen's garden, with the walker stuck deep in the mud. I helped her pull it out, but we never did find the rubber stoppers from the bottom of the walker. The pharmacy was very puzzled when we called to order replacements.
I attended Mass with Baba as I was growing up. We always dropped by Aunt Mary's house and picked her up when she needed a ride. This was usually when her daughter-in-law (her usual ride) had to work Sundays at the Riceland Hotel. When I was a teenager, I would sometimes drive Baba to church. One Saturday afternoon we were running just a little late for Mass. The priest was standing at the back of the church putting on his robes when Baba said, "Oh hell! We're late again!" Father smiled and shook his finger at her. I was totally mortified, and my face was about fifty shades of red.
Living with Baba and growing up around her was an experience I wouldn't trade with anyone. She taught me how to cook ("a handful of this, a pinch of that") and embroider and how to pray. She was a strong woman who stood up for what she believed in and taught her family the values they needed to be successful in life. A bowl of her soup and a slice of homemade bread made the world just a little more bearable.
