Introduction: Grandma Hardt Was Really Something

Introduction
Grandma Hardt Was Really Something
Grandma lived with us. She moved in after I was born to help out my mom. I was the third child born in as many years. Well, she stayed until she died. Maybe it was because the next ten years
brought five more babies into our house or maybe it was because we loved her and she loved us and we needed each other. After all, she was our grandma and we were her grandchildren.
The last time I saw Grandma she was in the hospital. I don't even remember what was wrong with her but I do remember that the medicine was making her act goofy. I had just got engaged and was home for Easter vacation to share the good news. She knew John and was very fond of him.
What was to be our last conversation was about him. She wondered aloud if John knew what was in store for him. When I asked her why she thought that, she groggily replied, "Well, you're
so silly."
I shook my head in dismay, kissed her good-bye, and left the hospital. The most pressing thing on my mind was choosing between two wedding china patterns. She died a week after I
returned to school. I was very shocked It never occurred to me that she was going to die. That was ten years ago this month. I think of her all the time. She was really something. Her name was Della Hardt. I often called her Della. She thought that was OK. When I think about her, I mostly think of all the fun times we had, because she was a fun person. But sometimes I think about how little I really related to her life. It makes me feel sad and guilty, although Grandma would never want me to. Maybe it was because I was young; I hope it wasn't because I wasn't interested.
Her life was difficult, even tragic. Two of her babies died as toddlers and when she was about thirty-eight my grandfather died, leaving her on the fann to raise my mother and two sons alone. Even though she was a young woman when this happened, she never remarried. Around her 70th year, in confession, a priest asked why, to which she replied, "No one ever asked me."
Her life during the Depression was probably pretty trying, but the only story she ever related about it was one about getting a permanent - or should I say a marcel, the permanent wave of the '30s. They would yank her hair so much hooking it up to the curling machine that when they were through she had such a headache she had to retire to bed. By the time she recovered, the hairdo was ruined.
I loved that story. She used to tell it to Bonnie (my sister) and me as we walked her home through the snow from Mrs. Morris' beauty shop. She had a standing appointment on Thursday for a shampoo and pin curl set.
Bonnie and I did a lot of things with Grandma. She took us to the movies and out to dinner and we laughed a lot. Della had great insight into human nature, especially our neighbors. They were great story material.
One of the best is about Grandma's new car. She always had a car. As she was taking it out for a drive she asked Marian, a kittycornered neighbor who was working in her rose garden, if she wouldn't like to ride along. Marian declined. "No, Della, I can't. I think I'm going to die tonight."
''That's OK, I'll have you back in plenty of time," Grandma said, "I don't like to drive after dark."
Grandma sewed for us. She also mended things, took them in, let them out, and in the era of the miniskirt she did a lot of shortening. She never raised her eyebrows at the diminishing skirts. All she ever said was, "Just mark the hem, I'll make them as short as you want. You're the one running around half dressed, not me."
Making a nice appearance was important to Grandma. Whenever she was going out she'd like to be reassured that she looked nice. "Is my dress all right?" "What about my necklace, does it match?" I'd always offer the appropriate reassurance and at the same time wonder what difference it made ... In my world, if you were over 30 you were over the hill and should no longer concern yourself about appearances.
Grandma was right. I was silly and she'd be glad to know that I am still silly, but now I'm mature, too. Unfortunately, she's not here to see that John has been able to put up with me. She would be happy for me and she would love to hold all my babies. And she would be happy that now I know that she wasn't just a Grandma, but a person, too.
Why did it take so long?
May 3, 1979