My daughter experiences night terrors now and again, less
frequently than the preschool years, thank goodness. The bouts are fairly predictable, typically followed
by lengthy conversations.[1] Sometimes I just hang out with her, telling
stories about various people in our lives. The most popular by far are Grandma stories. Whether it’s my Mother, Grandmother or Great
Grandmother, she soaks up every word and asks for more. Now that she’s a bit older, I think it’s time
to tell her a surprising story about my Great Grandma Clara.
Great Grandma Clara (AKA Grandma Clara, because our clan is
just not that formal), was a force to
be reckoned with; a battle ship holding the line and deflecting bullets. I spent a large portion of my childhood at
her modest home in North Dakota
It was quite a shock to learn that when Grandma Clara was
younger, she was fearful, even terrified at times. Sadly, I have little knowledge of our family
history; mostly cherished memories passed around the table after a filling holiday
dinner. Her large German family came to
Ellis Island from Russia North Dakota
As the story goes, Grandma Clara moved the family to the
nearest town and started working in a restaurant. No matter what the circumstance, that woman
could COOK. That’s a whole ‘nother
story.[3] Then she met a nice man, George. They got married and the family grew.[4]
Now, I’m not exactly clear whether or not Grandma Clara was always afraid, what she was afraid of, or why she was afraid. But from
what I understand, here’s how it ended:
Late--very late--one night, Grandma heard the front door
opening. Grandpa was working graveyard
at the railroad a block away (no one locked their doors back then) yet the door
was opening and in stumbled a dark figure.
It must have been dark, because Grandma couldn’t see who was coming
through the door. But her reaction was
not that of the strong woman I remember standing at the kitchen sink, deftly
peeling potatoes and scrubbing fresh cucumbers from the garden for pickling. The truth is that Grandma Clara started
screaming in terror; crying and cowering into a corner.
Now, the reason this story was passed along was not to shame
my Grandmother, but to poke fun at the neighbor. You see, the next door neighbor had a little
too much to drink after work, and walked into the wrong house! He was three sheets to the proverbial wind,
inebriated, and just plain old fashioned shnockered. Honestly, I would’ve freaked out too, if
someone walked in to my house, drunk or not.
Neighbor or not!
This is where it really gets interesting; the part I want to
share with my little girl. Grandma
Clara was filled with fear. She was also filled with determination and
strong will. It was her strong will that
pushed her family through a storm of grief.
I suspect there was no small part of her that was humiliated once the
neighbors started talking, too.
This incident proved to be pivotal in her life. From that point on, Grandma Clara stopped
being afraid. She vowed to never let her
fear distract her from truth and reality.
Whatever the driving factor was, a stronger woman stood before her
family and the world.
By the time I came along, Grandma Clara was a different
woman. Hardened in some ways, but ever
practical, stern and loving. We enjoyed
each others’ company and I learned many things from her over the years. Cooking, unfortunately, was not one of the
things. Her strong-will (even when she
was clearly in the wrong) has carried onto her great, great granddaughter. This is the story my determined yet fearful daughter
needs to hear. She is just as strong,
just as courageous and just as loving as my Great Grandma Clara.
