There’s a relatively
new country song out by the group Rascal Flatts. It’s entitled, “How they remember you.” The chorus lyrics sing, “Did you stand, did
you fall? Build a bridge or build a wall? Hide your love or give it all? What
did you do? Did you make them laugh or make ‘em cry? Did you quit or did you
cry? Live your dreams or let ‘em die? What did you choose? When it all comes
down, it aint if it’s how they remember you.”
I’d like to share how
I remember my Great Grandma, otherwise affectionately known by her great
grandchildren as Nanny. Nanny was loving, kind, brave, funny and a fighter to
her core. She was full of grit and
determination. Nanny was a strong christian and throughout her life she
continually chose the path of righteousness. As I started writing about her it
occurred to me women of Nanny’s generation are gone. With them all the
knowledge they gained from living through world wars, the great depression and
pandemics all died with them. Certainly no one could argue they were not a generation
of wimps. My Nanny had a wealth of
knowledge to share but I was only 25 when she passed away. I was too young and naive to really care what
advice my nanny would have had for me as a newly married woman. I never got to ask her the poignant questions
I now have about her youth and her womanhood but she left a big mark on my life
as one of my greatest influences and someone I admire greatly.
Nanny was born Nov 9,
1897 on a farm in Bureau County, IL. She
was the 4th child of seven children, six girls and one boy. Imagine how the one brother, Fritz, felt living with all those girls in the early
1900’s. Fritz was also the oldest and
the first sibling to pass away of the seven children. Nanny’s parents farmed and her father was an
alcoholic. I never heard my nanny speak
of her father but I knew life was difficult for her mother who was trying to
raise seven children while her husband drank like a fish. He died when the
youngest child was 5, leaving Nanny’s mom to raise the seven kids alone. According to my Uncle Rod Nanny’s father had
finally gotten sober but one day in July 1908 he found a bottle of rubbing
alcohol in the barn, drank it and died.
Rod believes his grandfather, in what was a sad relapse, mistakenly
thought the rubbing alcohol was actually booze.
My mother believes he was trying to kill himself. The latter seems more
plausible to me. I’m not sure how one confuses rubbing alcohol with actual
booze. In any case I’m not sure any of us got the full story and it’s an
example of a question I never asked
nanny but wish I had.
Nanny’s farm life
continued in Bureau County when she married a farmer named Leslie Dahl or as we
grands called him, Pop, my great grandfather.
They married on Oct. 19, 1921 and had two children. Max, born in 1924 and my Grandma Ginny, born
in 1929. Max died during a training exercise in England in WWII. It was a foggy
day. Max and his buddies had flipped a
coin as to who would take their turn that day.
Max lost the coin flip. As they
flew their planes another plane got out of formation and hit Max’s plane. Max
was able to abort from the plane but his parachute didn’t work. He plunged to his death at the innocent age
of 20. As a mother myself I can’t imagine how Nanny and Pop must have felt to
hear this devastating news. Life as they knew it changed in an instant and my
Grandma Ginny, who was still in highschool, became an only child. Later my Grandma Ginny told me she
intentionally had three children because she never wanted one of her children
to live without a sibling, as she had done. Losing Max surely left a void in
Nanny’s life. However, after he died our
family never heard her speak another word about him - ever. Life went on and
although her family never doubted her love for her son, women of that generation
were private and carried on. I imagine Nanny’s deep faith is what sustained
her.
I was Nanny’s oldest
great grandchild and got to enjoy her into my 20’s. A rare gift. To me, Nanny was the essence of
femininity. She was fearless, loved her
family, worked hard and everything she did was centered around her faith. Pop died in 1979 and Nanny lived on their
farm, alone, until she was 90. I visited her often when I was a child. She was a wonderful cook. After all she had cooked for years for their farm
help. She also loved to garden. I have a
letter she wrote me way back when. It
was a June day and she reported she had dusted her tomatoes and cucumber vines. As a Generation X’r and a non gardener I had
no idea what she was talking about. She went on to write she didn’t have any
bugs yet but she certainly didn’t want to get any. Nanny canned and would line her basement with
jars of vegetables which her family would enjoy for the winters. In another
letter she told me she had just started watching “Wheel of Fortune” and “they
sure had nice things to give away on that program.” In most letters she would
mention going to church and her dog, Tobby. She wrote about simple things and
in today's culture her life might be viewed as uncomplicated and maybe a little
boring. However, she endured more heart
break in her 102 years than most. She
outlived her son, her husband and all six of her siblings. She lived during a time without electricity,
plumbing and I’m not sure she ever traveled much farther than Chicago. Never once did I hear her complain about her
circumstances or the losses she had endured.
Her letters and my memories are the only remaining piece I have of her.
One has to ask themselves what will future generations look like since the art
of letter writing is considered old fashioned and outdated? As I wrote about Nanny I was able to examine
my own lifestyle. Thanks to modern day
conveniences and innovations life today
isn’t nearly as difficult even though there is no denying it is still filled
with heartache, sickness, death and in general just some really hard
stuff. When Nanny’s life didn’t go as
planned and she didn’t have the luxury of a car, heat, indoor plumbing or
social media, she quietly and privately dusted herself off and kept her focus
where it needed to be - on her family, her farm and her God.
