Grandparents

My mom's paternal grandfather was born in 1854 and grandmother in 1860

Grandparents

Because we lived just 1 1/2 miles from my paternal grandparents, many childhood memories revolve around them. They were very OLD as I first remember them. Grandpa Miller would have been in his early 70's and Grandma 6 years younger. Going up to grandpa's house was a regular Sunday afternoon routine which we eagerly awaited. Perhaps grandma's habit of bringing out graham crackers or cookies had something to do with it. Grandpa always had peppermints or horehound candies in his pocket for good little children. We loved to explore their big two story house. Going up the back stairs was a bit spooky on cloudy days but that was the shortest way to the room where old funny papers and magazines were stored. The big back porch contained many interesting relics, including an old pump organ. We might go to the shed, climb up in the old surrey and pretend to take a trip; or play hide and seek in and around the "old house", shed and chicken house. We were a bit afraid of grandpa's big horses so we mostly steered clear of the barn except in summer when the horses were in the pasture.

Grandpa kindly tolerated the antics of the eight of us. Perhaps in us he relived the growing years of his own nine children. I can see him still in his rocking chair by the old wood stove in winter or sitting on the edge of the porch in summer with a fly swatter in his hand. Grandma seemed to love each of us and enjoyed holding the babies. I knew her as a gentle, quiet woman with snow white hair. It was hard to imagine how hard she must have worked when the children were all at home.

My mother's parents were in their early 50's when I first remember them. Their farm was a long way away, at least 30 miles. On our infrequent journeys to their house we had to start early in the morning to be sure to arrive in time for grandma's good dinner. Her house always smelled of delicious food. Maybe we were just very hungry after that long trip. I thought nobody's fried chicken tasted as good as Grandma Barge's. And her burnt sugar cakes would melt in your mouth. But before we could eat, grandma asked the blessing, which was sure to be longer than anybody elses.With that platter of chicken under my nose I couldn't help but be impatient.

Grandpa Barge was a big tease, so much so that I often avoided him to protect my feelings. He didn't mean to hurt us but he did. Grandpa was a big man--tall and heavy set, slow and deliberate in his actions, a hard worker but a trial to Grandma, who was very quick in everything. We enjoyed our visits to their house, especially the toys and dress-up clothes which grandma kept in an upstairs room and kept us occupied all afternoon.

If our teenage aunts were home, their boyfriends might pay a call and we'd get to go for a walk with them. How they put up with us, I don't know.

I always though my grandma's fried chicken was the best in the world and loved her home made pies. She must have learned all that from her own mother, of course. Sadly I don't think my mom inherited that skill so much, or maybe she just got sick of cooking by the time I can remember. I remember her saying that she and her sister were the ones who made the pies for the farm hands when she was growing up, so she was probably too "pied out" by the time I came around. I remember yummy cakes and cookies, though, and she made the best turkey stuffing ever. Oh, and fudge.