Lucy

LUCY CAROLINE VOLKENING

Grandmas were an important part of my life.  My Grandma Lucy was about as opposite as you could get from my Grandma "Lukey". Tall (5' 7 or 8") for those days and skinny, modest, religious, no make-up, no jewelry, no nonsense and a faithful baseball fan (go Cubs!).  Wore sensible shoes.  And just check out how long that hair is!  She kept her thick dark braids in a box when she finally had her hair cut off.  They seemed like a national treasure to me when she'd get the box out to show me when I was a young girl.

But she shared the good cook reputation and honors with Grandma Lukey and kept us in warm, fresh homebaked bread frequently.  And she had a candy jar that was always filled and you didn't have to ask permission to take some.  Like a jackpot!  What's not to love?

What I found weird was how my Grandmas would so formally refer to each other, or to their neighbors.  "How is Mrs. Lucas?" Grandma Lucy would inquire.  "Is Mrs. Sholes driving Mr. Sholes to the Dr. today then?" Grandma Lukey would ask.  "Who are you kidding?"  I wanted to say, "you guys have known each other for a hundred years, and you can't  remember each other's first names?"  But I would bite my tongue, and while I was swallowing a little blood I would stop and think a minute about how strange and charming respect and politeness and manners can be.  And Mom made sure we grew up respecting our elders!

THE VOLKENING GIRLS CIRCA 1911---100 YEARS AGO!

Lucy (2nd from the right in photo above) grew up in a big family with 4 sisters (Ida, Lana, Emma, and Mandy) and 3 brothers.  Mandy is missing from all the photos because she took off for Arizona and they never saw her after that.  The rest of the family stayed planted around Elgin.

THE FAMILY    MID CENTURY

Grandma Sophie, their mom, was a little bit of a thing but all those kids were tall and thin.  Maybe she married a basketball player.  Oh, right, they didn't have basketball yet.  Or cars or phones, television or computers, airplanes or air conditioning,  electricity or running water.  No indoor bathrooms!  These people from the last half of the 1800's grew up with the horse and buggy and lived to see all those changes...even rocket ships to the moon.  Can't think of any other generation in history who would live through such mind boggling changes.  What stories they could tell us!

SOPHIE THIES VOLKENING

Grandma Lucy had been a farm girl, and she and Grandpa tried farming for a spell in Wisconsin.   They had four children.  Ernie, my dad, was their only son, and he nearly went blind because he was born on the farm with no Dr. or nurse attending and so hadn't had the silver nitrate put in his eyes as was the custom at birth.  The baby of the group, Betty, was born prematurely at about 2 pounds.  She wasn't expected to live, but they put her in the ICU---a shoebox which they then kept in a drawer of the coal stove.  Hey, she made it!

Every summer each one of us 10 grandkids would get a week to spend at her house, our very own week,  being pampered and indulged---our only fling at being an only child.  Even though Grandma got up every morning well before dawn, if I came down the staircase before 9 am, she would insist I go back to bed. In the lazy afternoons, she would take me out on the porch swing and sing me to sleep in a nonchalant very off key voice I seem to have inherited.  Try as I might to cling to consciousness, the seductive breeze that filtered through the painted white porch posts and  the dark green wooden slat shades she drew down would have its way with me.  Nap time was inevitable. Every time.

Bedtime was a different story.  There her magic was to take you into her room and lie with you on her bed while she softly tickled you into complete relaxation.  I was one of the susceptible ones, I would go limp with delicious delirious delight.  Not a word was spoken during the ritual, but I learned the hard way that if my body shivered or tensed when Grandma feather touched a sensitive part of my side or arm, she would interpret that as a signal to stop somehow, much to my chagrin.  So I learned to lie completely still and barely even breathe NO MATTER WHAT.  Good training had I only become a Navy Seal or international spy.  At least I learned the fine art of the gentle tickle from a master.  And it's still the best way to a girl's heart, at least this girl's.


To help out when raising her children,  Lucy had been a seamstress, tailoring clothes and creating wedding gowns in her home, so guess it was natural that our family of four girls took advantage of that skill.  Big time.

No plug?  No problem!
Just feet, rhythmically back & forth on that treadle.

 

She made us whatever we could dream up. From fancy pastel organdy little girl dresses to a black and white fiaco skirt for the first day of junior high school to polished suits for Church.  Barbie clothes.  Even half my college wardrobe.  My bridesmaids' dresses.   All on an old fashioned treadle sewing machine (I borrowed my wedding dress, or she would have been on call for that too).  When I was in jr. high and had to take a  sewing/homemaking class I tried to sew a blouse, but got it all backwards.  The teacher exploded at me.  So I hid the fabric in my notebook and sneakily took it to Grandma to get some help.  She ended up so frustrated with trying to teach me that she just whipped it up herself and told me I would never be a seamstress.  It's true, it's all I can do to sew on a button.  But I passed the class.

Grandma had another treasure that became so very special to me.  In fourth grade, she let me borrow her spinning wheel for the class play, Rumpelstilskin.   Being cast as the miller's daughter made the play important to me, and so it was with great pleasure and relative disbelief that I was able to take that family heirloom to Gifford Elementary School with me.  My great great grandfather, Christ Thies, handcrafted the spinning wheel as a wedding gift for his bride in 1850.  Because it meant so much to me, Grandma Lucy gifted it to me a few years later and I consider it an honor to have such a precious piece of history.

When I was little, I imagined that I was the daughter of the devil and that everyone knew it and despised me and I could do no right.  Everyone except Grandma Lucy, who I figured either didn't know or didn't care.  So I guess I felt she was non critical and I felt pretty comfortable at her house and I could do no wrong.  I think that's probably the best reason a kid should have grandparents.  And should get to see them often.  (not that all kids are supremely paranoid)

LUCY & "PETE" SHOLES

Despite often pointing out to me ever since I was very young how old she and Grandpa were and that they would soon die, she actually lived several decades past that disconcerting self report, and made it to 91. Maybe she surprised herself.   I'm not the judge, but I think she lived a good life.  I hope that right after St. Peter, she got to meet Groucho Marx. Now he could make her laugh.

GROUCHO