Grandma Samson: Part 4--Staying at Grandma’s House

When I was a little girl (less than 5 years of age), Grandma and I would take the city bus downtown to the one of the two “5 and Dime” stores in Utica: Neisner’s and Woolworth’s. Usually we went to Neisner’s. Grandma said that she enjoyed taking me with her because I was always well-behaved, polite, neat, and ladylike. She would often buy me a “Little Golden Book,” which were small books for children. One of my favorite books was Crispin’s Crispin. It was a book about a dog who lived in a house and bought  a bone at the meat market, which he hid so that no one who come in and take it. After we had finished shopping, Grandma and I would go to the Neisner’s lunch counter, where she would buy me an ice cream treat. My absolutely favorite ice cream treat was, and still is to this day, a chocolate ice cream soda made with chocolate ice cream. I adore chocolate; so did Grandma, but too much of it gave her migraines (I also suffer from migraines). Grandma was impressed by the fact that even as a small child, I was never messy. I would wear a nice little dress and not spill one drop of my treat on the dress (or the counter!). Then we would take the bus back to her house.

I loved to spend the night at Grandma’s house. I knew that Grandpa and Uncle Donald, my godfather, lived there, too, but I always thought of 1925 Storrs Avenue as “Grandma’s House.” When I stayed overnight there, I slept in my father’s old bedroom. It was on the second floor, the first room on the left, across from the very large bathroom. The bed was immediately on the left as you entered the room. The stairs to the attic were on the left, at the end of the bed. Across from the door were the windows, which faced the northeast. All along the wall under the windows was a very long desk with a long shelve above it. On this shelve were my grandmother’s prize African violets. They were stunning. Florescent lights hung above the plants; the combination of the florescent lights and the northeast light from the windows above must have created the perfect environment for the African violets, which are notoriously difficult to grow. (I can’t count how many African violets Grandma gave to my mother that died at our house.) I loved to sit at the desk and glance up at the lovely violets as I drew picture upon picture.


    Another thing I loved about staying at Grandma’s house was the food. For breakfast, Grandma would make me a perfectly prepared soft-cooked egg. She would scoop it out of its shell and chop it in small bowl with a little butter (REAL butter, not oleo-margarine like my mother bought), salt, and pepper. There was also toast with butter, and jam if I wanted it. Grandma squeezed oranges for my orange juice, and I also had tea with cream and sugar. This was so unlike my usual breakfast at home of cold cereal or oatmeal. And NO pancakes, which I did not like, at Grandma’s house. Often, we would also have a dish of fruit with breakfast. Apricots were my favorite. We never had apricots at home. Breakfast was heaven at Grandma’a house.

    In the summer, “The Vegetable Man” would stop his cart pulled by a horse in the street in front of my grandparents’ house, which was in the middle of their block. On one side of the cart were all sorts of local fresh vegetables; on the other side were fresh fruits. My grandmother would let me help select the vegetables and the fruits for the family meals. My favorite vegetable was fresh peas. I was allowed to shell the peas and rinse them so that Grandma could cook them. At home, we had mushy canned peas. These peas were fork-tender when Grandma steamed them, and then put a pat of butter on top of the dish of steaming hot peas.

    The fruits I usually chose were bing cherries, dark red and so sweet, and peaches and apricots. Grandma would let me eat the cherries after she washed them. She would cut up the peaches and the apricots, sprinkle a little sugar on them, mix them, and then we would have them for breakfast or sometimes over vanilla ice cream. I can still smell the fragrance of the peaches and the apricots in my child’s mind. Aaahhh!

    For lunch, Grandma would make soup, usually cream of tomato soup, and make me a sandwich, usually of sliced ham, with a little butter, mayonnaise, and mustard on white bread. She always had dill pickles for me, since I was a “pickle freak.” I ADORED dill pickles. Our dinner would often be roast pork, roast beef, or pan-fried steak, served rare and juicy. Every now and then, Grandma would roast a duck on a spit. These were my favorite things, and Grandma always made sure that she served them when I stayed overnight.

    Never was I scared when I stayed at Grandma’s house. I felt safe and secure there; my grandparents were right next door to my father’s room, and Uncle Donald’s room was across the hallway from my grandparents’ room. Someone was right there if ever I needed them, but I don’t remember ever needing comforting or having nightmares or anything unpleasant happening when I was there.

    Unfortunately, my overnight stays at Grandma’s house came to a rather abrupt end when I was 7 or 8 years old. My mother thought it was unfair that I stayed at Grandma’s and my sister did not. Joanne was quite the opposite of me; she was very active and “antsy.” She didn’t listen nor obey well. She always got into some sort of mischief. And Grandma simply didn’t want to deal with it, so yes, Grandma played favorites, and I was the favorite, My mother did not like it, and so forbid me to go to Grandma’s house unless she also invited Joanne. Grandma just didn’t want to put up with Joanne’s antics, so my visits to Grandma’s house stopped until I was in high school.

    Every Wednesday when I was in high school, I would take the city bus downtown with my school friends. We would shop or “just look,” and then I would take the bus to my grandparents’ house for dinner. I would help my Grandma and Uncle Donal make dinner, and we would chat together as we worked. Then we would eat, watch the news, and I would do my homework. Around 8:30 p.m. or 9:00 p.m., Uncle Donald would drive me home, or my father would come to pick me up and take me home. Dad often came a little early so that he could spend some time with my grandfather, and then we would go home later. Wednesday nights at my grandparents’ house provided a my safety net for me throughout my high school years. I felt wanted, loved, cared about, listened to, and I was given loving advice at my grandparents’ house. If given the choice, I would have stayed FOREVER at my grandparents’ house!