Carboned-up car
Grandma had the second hand car that was originally that of my family – a red Pontiac Catalina which featured a good old fashioned V-8 engine that guzzled as much gas as it belched emissions out the tail pipe. Whenever she took it to Lyman’s Automotive for a tune-up, she got the same advice. She drives it too gingerly which causes it to “carbon up”. So, her cure was to have Paul occasionally take it out on the road and “blow the carbon out” so that she would not get the same lecture next time at Lyman’s. For Paul that not only meant hard acceleration but also high speeds. Preemptively taking charge of the situation I heard my Grandma on the phone talking to the Sheriff’s office saying that Paulie would be driving on highway 52 just down the hill from her house and that they should know that he has her permission to be driving fast and that it is OK.
Just a half block, but thank you
On the way to work Grandma was driving down the right-hand side of a one-way street. When a cop car pulled up alongside of her she stopped and rolled down her window part way. The cop told her that she was going the wrong way. She replied that she was only going a half block because she missed her turn and that she is a nurse. She then asked him to wait there so that she could turn left. She rolled up her window and drove to the hospital.
Just push her in the hole
For some reason, my Grandma always felt comfortable confiding in me the strangest things at the oddest times. One summer while working on her house she summonsed me inside for a break from the heat. As I drank freshly made ice-cold lemonade, she casually mentioned that she hopes there will not be a lot of tears and sadness when she dies. She continued that we should be so sick and tired of her that when it comes time to bury her, we will not waste a lot of time with tearful words of good-bye. We should just push her into the hole and drive back to the church for lunch.
Pssst!
As a good Missouri Synod Lutheran my Grandma adhered to the strictest discipline of decorum while attending church Services. On those occasions when she sat with my family, she somehow exempted herself from those rules as the senior German-reared self-appointed leader of the pack. Sitting in the pew behind my Brother she tried to get his attention during the sermon with a “pssst” sound that was anything but unobtrusive. She whispered to him “are we going to Perkin’s for lunch? He tried to ignore her while mumbling something under his breath. Minutes later there was another “pssst” this time directed at me to get Paul’s attention. I was not anywhere near my Brother. She “whispered” to me that she did not hear what Paul said. I slumped down in the pew as those around us were giving us a good shaming “looking at”. Naturally, she did not let it go. My Brother snapped back to her next “pssst” by forcefully shaking his head in the affirmative. As if she forgot she was in church she said out loud, “so we are going to lunch?”. Paul turned toward her and said, “is a frog’s butt watertight?” After the stares subsided my Grandma finally got what he said. She laughed out loud as she tugged on his ear saying “oh Paulie!”.
Too stubborn to go yet
Grandma Rue was a nursing supervisor for the night shift at Methodist Hospital. This must have been a tough role as a widowed woman in the 50’s and 60’s as she dealt with the male dominated medical staff. Her kind demeaner and staunch German heritage was probably key to gaining the loyalty of nurses and standing up to Doctors when needed.
My brother had a propensity to get ear infections while growing up. On one occasion he was taken to the Methodist Hospital emergency room and was about to get his ear lanced. My grandma was working that night and came down to the ER only to discover that the resident Doctor was not using a local anesthetic for this procedure. Nurses did not confront doctors back then, yet this is exactly what she did. Apparently, she lectured him for about ten minutes in the hallway about medicine the Mayo Clinic way.
Many years later she was admitted to St. Mary’s Hospital after years of declining health. Family gathered that evening around her bed as our Pastor gave her last rites. She was unconscious and would not make it through the night. We were told to say our goodbyes and go on home.
I got a call the next morning saying that she was given Haldol after biting a nurse. Apparently nursing staff did something wrong when changing sheets and tending to her near lifeless body. She was not able to get their attention, so she bit the nurse and began lecturing her that this is not the Mayo way to prepare a body for collection.
She was transported back to the nursing home the next day and lived for two more years.
Now that is one stubborn German nurse.
Soup bone, what soup bone?
It was a blustery cold Minnesota winter day when my grandma was chatting with the neighbor about a great mystery. A couple of days ago the neighbor lady had made a large vat of soup that she left in the garage to cool off a tad before her guests arrived. They enjoyed this delicious soup for days when she noticed something rather odd. The large soup bone had gone missing.
Upon returning home my grandma went to pet her St. Bernard when I heard her exclaim, “Bridget where did you get that bone!”
Drive-In
There was the time Grandma Rue took the family to the new Sandy’s fast-food restaurant after church. She drove into the parking lot on the left side and pulled up to one of those drive-through trash containers, rolled down her window and asked everybody what they wanted to eat.
Wow It’s dark out there
There was the time that Grandma Rue visited Mom and Dad in their trailer at the Air Force base in Finland Minnesota. She went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and looked out the window. Leaning into the window with her hands to her temples she commented just how dark it is out here. Dad told her that the window was broken and covered with tar paper.