Life in the Burg

I just read this. (Seriously, go read it. Then come back. It's really great.) And I've been thinking about my heritage a lot recently. Mostly because my Grandma Seegmiller died last weekend. Its at times like these that I wish for better words, someone else's perhaps, that can more adequately pay tribute to my Grandma. I sure love her. Instead of trying to figure out how to sum up her life, I'd like to just tell you some of my favorite memories of her for record keeping's sake. This is first and foremost a journal of my life, so please forgive the indulgence. I have a horrible memory and wish that I could remember more, but that's why I better write this down. I don't want even these few memories to fade any more.

From an early age I knew my Grandma loved me. She told me. I remember those words coming from her mouth. And she showed me. One of my favorite childhood memories was visiting her in Layton. I remember being shocked that she stored bread in the dishwasher. Didn't it get wet? I guess when you wash all your dishes by hand, that's the only thing a dishwasher is good for. Grandma and Grandpa had grape vines and they made homemade grape juice. I love grape juice. She'd always send us home with some. It was so good. I don't know if I loved it because she made it and gave it to us, or if I loved it because I just did. I remember her handing me the jar and telling me to take it home with us. I also remember going to church with her. She would make things with her hanky. I remember a mouse and a swaddled baby, but there may have been more. I also remember her lesson to me on skin elasticity and how she proved I was young and she was old because a pinch in her skin stayed creased, but mine smoothed immediately. Still makes me chuckle. Everyone always said I looked like a Bradshaw, like her family. I always felt closer to her because of that. I was like her. We belonged together.

And besides the lessons I can learn from the life she lead and the type of person she was, I remember 3 lessons that she taught me clearly. We stayed with Grandma and Grandpa for a whole summer vacation one year. I must've been going into 1st or 2nd grade. My cousin lived across the street and she was a bit younger than me, but we decided we wanted to start a little side business. We got out her dolly stroller and filled it with rocks. Small ones were a nickel, medium ones were a dime, and big ones were a quarter. Yes, those seem like steep prices to me, too, but a girl's gotta earn a living somehow. And then we did what any business woman would do. We put on poofy slips to play dress up in and sold those rocks door to door in the grueling summer heat.

And, yes, a few people bought them. They must've been impressed with our entrepreneurial spirit. After splitting our earnings, I had a dollar and some change. I remember counting it with Mom and Grandma. And the first thing Grandma said after we counted it was a reminder to pay my tithing. I remember handing my mite to her bishop at church the next Sunday. I would've learned that lesson from my parents. I did learn it from them, but I also learned it from her in that moment. I learned of her certain testimony of the principle of tithing.

I also remember a visit she paid to us. We were at church. My mom and my sister sing beautifully and I don't. I was young and shy. I usually didn't sing the hymns. I was too self conscious. Grandma wouldn't have any of that. She told me that I should sing anyway, even if I didn't sound the prettiest. She told me that it showed Heavenly Father how much I loved Him. And so I sing. I sing all the hymns. And I remember my Grandma when we sing a hymn that I don't know, or don't like, or isn't easy to sing. And I remember to sing my praises to my Father in Heaven.

And finally, I have a distinct memory of her having lunch at our house on 42nd St. We had sandwiches or something. Mom had probably made them, and she probably cleared and washed the dishes too. I remember watching Grandma take the heel of one hand and brush bread crumbs into the other. I don't remember exactly what she said, but I do remember she chastised me and those at the table with me. She told us we needed to help Mom more and clean up after ourselves better. She wasn't real happy with us. That sure laid the guilt on me. Grandma was disappointed in me. Not a good feeling.

I remember her laugh, her eyes, her soft, wrinkly skin (that will one day be mine). I remember her voice, her smell, her smiling face as she hugged me in the sealing room on my wedding day. I remember in my mind's eye Lainey sitting on her lap at our last family reunion I attended. A friend asked if I would regret not going to the funeral. I asked my mom why it didn't matter to me that I wouldn't make it, why we (my family) were all like that. Her answer: we come from a long line of solid people. Rocks. And we understand, I suppose, that it doesn't matter if we were there or not. My reply to my friend was quick and sure. I feel closer to her now than I did a week ago. I feel like our communication is better now than a week ago. I firmly believe that she, along with Tyler's mom, Gloria, and Grandma and Grandpa Banks, is right here with me whenever I need her. Those aren't just flowery words. I believe they are just right there on the other side, waiting and wanting to help. I sometimes talk about Tyler to his mom because she understands. I'll probably start talking to Grandma, too. She gets me, because I am apart of her. Part of her legacy. And for that I will be eternally grateful.