Auf Wiedersehen, Framma

Today’s post is difficult to write, but I can’t procrastinate any longer.  They are burying my Framma today.

My mother’s mother, whom I affectionately called “Framma,” was one whom everyone adored, just like my own mother–but for different reasons!  My mother was the sweetest thing you’d ever meet, but she would blush at the slightest off-color topic.  Framma, on the other hand, was ornery and hilarious!  Heck, she was downright naughty, with a perpetual wink -of-the-eye carved into her face (do you see it in her photos?). How I will miss her!  Let me tell you a little about her, just in case you hadn’t had the chance to know her.  All the anecdotes were told to me, by her.  And I’m sharing things I know she’d want shared, because this is what my Framma was about.

Framma lived to be 92 and was a Gemini.  Our birthdays were only three days apart, and for as long as I can remember, we had a running joke that “May Babies were special, but October Babies (e.g., my Frampa) were crabby!”  Her words, not mine!  She would poke me when she said it, and I would always laugh.  I was quick to repeat her directly to Frampa, who was not much amused.  But heck, he was indeed a little crabby, although he was ornery and lovable, too!

She was born and raised in North Dakota, coming from mostly German heritage.  She and Frampa both spoke German as their first language but started picking up English at around age 8 or 9. I used to listen in awe as she, Frampa, and the relative spoke German.  I think it’s why I always gravitated to the study of foreign languages, although I detested my German class in college!

My Framma had some remarkable stories from her childhood.  I will try to get the facts straight, but forgive me for any inaccuracies.  Her own mother died suddenly in her 30s, when Framma was only about 11 years old.  Being the eldest daughter, the responsibilities fell to her to take over as “mother” for her father and her parents’ other six (?) children.  It was a tough job.  She had to bake bread all the time and cried tears into the dough while she was kneading it because it was so hard to do. Here’s a picture of the family from an unknown date, circa 1930s (Framma is right in the middle, fifth from the left):

Her father eventually remarried, and without going into gory detail, I will say her stepmother was a horrible person.  In front of her father, she was a saint.  When he wasn’t looking, she was the devil.  Evil Stepmother had her own children, and Framma said she used to feed them first and let Framma and her siblings pick over the remainder.  This was at a time around the Great Depression, so food was scarce anyway.  I know she made sure that each of her siblings were fed and put herself last.  There were other atrocities committed by Evil Stepmother, but I’ll just say it was very hard on Framma, who she did what she could to manage because everyone needed her.  I think this is what gave her her strength all these 92 years, even in the face of my mother’s death in 2017.  Even then, she put on a brave face and held it together, far better than me.  I have always admired her and seriously doubt that I could have handled what she saw in her lifetime.

It is remarkable that Framma lived to be a ripe 92, as she had at least two near-death experiences as a young child. In North Dakota, the winters were very harsh and cold.  When she was a toddler, she was “skating” on a frozen pound, which turned out to be not completely frozen.  She fell into the ice cold water and was unable to get out.  She told me she remembered it being very cold, but after what seemed like a long time to her (probably less than a minute in reality), she felt very warm and comfortable and saw a light. She felt very happy.  It was about then that her uncle snatched her by the hair and pulled her up and out of the drink.  Obviously, she survived.

She also told me a story about a bull who chased her and almost trampled her.  I think she escaped only because she managed to reach the fence in time, though she said that it scared the living daylights out of her.  I always found it a little odd that she had a lifetime fetish for bulls, with a statue of one adorning her stereo cabinet I think until the day she moved to assisted living several years ago.  It was a bull in a Spanish bullfighting pose with accompanying matador.  I used to play with that bull and got into trouble when I dropped it an broke the horn.  In my defense, other grandchildren dropped that poor bull, too, but Framma always got the glue out and mended it.  I’m not sure what happened to the matador.

Speaking of the stereo cabinet, I used to love to play her vinyl LPs, especially Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass.  I remember one of the album covers had a woman dressed in only whipped cream.  This was shocking to me, and I was fascinated by it.  I also enjoyed listening to my uncle’s Beatles and Aerosmith records each time I visited.  For the record, I was very careful with that phonograph needle and never scratched a single record!  I can still hear that skipping sound you got when the record player reached the end of the record (if you remember this technology, you know exactly what I’m talking about).

Framma was a mean cook, specializing in delicacies from her German background.  I always begged her to make schup nudeln (she pronounced it “shoop noodle-uh”), which she made once in a while.  If you don’t know what it is, it’s basically long dumplings cooked with potatoes in a special way that made them brown and crunchy on the bottom and soft and doughy in the middle.  No wonder I love my carbs to this day!  Frampa loved to dunk them in buttermilk.  They are actually hard to make:  both my mother and I could never duplicate them.  They always came out like bricks or some other inedible moosh.  Framma knew precisely how much flour to use and how long to cook them–everything done without measuring tools or a recipe–all from memory!

 

For my birthday each year, she made me cherry cream cheese pie, which I loved and still love.  Cherries are my favorite!  Since our birthdays were very close, we often celebrated together. Here’s a more recent picture:

Don’t you just wanna squeeze her?!

Every year at Christmas, she made the same sweets and cookies–I can still picture and taste her sugar cookies and kuchen, covered with sugar and cinnamon.  It smelled so good!  She made sumptuous Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter dinners, where I ate ’til I was stuffed.  Another specialty was her turkey gizzard stuffing, made with rice and–gizzards.  I picked out the gizzard part, which I found to be objectionably chewy, but I loved the remaining stuffing and drowned it in gravy with mashed potatoes.  She also made yams, hashed brown casserole, and lots of other delights.  She never failed to put out a relish tray with black olives and pickles.  As a youngster (okay, yes, I did this well into adulthood!), I would remove the olives and stuck them onto my fat little fingers, eating them one at a time.  Framma tolerated this behavior, merely shaking her finger at me in mild disapproval.

I remember raucous German wedding dances, baby showers, and parties at their house.  Framma would break out the peach schnapps and vodka and serve the aunties fuzzy navels and screwdrivers.  (She let me try a sip–yuck!)  I remember German dances, complete with accordion players, polkas, waltzes, and a German dude saying a la Lawrence Welk, “and a one and a two and a . . .” and “Everybody dance!”  And my Lordy, did they ever!  Framma and Frampa LOVED to dance the polka, and I don’t think they missed one until it finally got too difficult after they were older.  But even though the flesh was weak, they both always tapped their toes in appreciation.  I will never forget the look of sheer contentment on their faces as they burned up the dance floor.  Ha, I also remember Frampa playing German music on his old reel-to-reel and blasting it out his stereo speakers.  I think that stereo was probably worth more than the house.  Hehe.

Though I never saw Framma over-imbibe alcoholic beverages, she enjoyed demanding a “fifth” of whiskey from us relentlessly, and she always feigned disappointment each year when she didn’t get one for her birthday.  She flirted shamelessly with the waiters at restaurants, whispering to me that she was going to take a cute one home with her and have her way with him!  Ha, even the day before she died, she told my brother that she was looking for a man, but alas, she wouldn’t know what to do if she found one!  We often bought her racy stuff, such as the one shown below. She never disappointed us with her reaction!

Framma was cheerful, even in the most tragic of times.  I honestly can’t remember seeing a real frown on her face.  Even at my mother’s funeral, she had a sad smile, which I know she put on to encourage the rest of us.  It was just her way.  And boy, as ornery as he was, she could handle that Frampa!  I remember them bickering in their hilarious way, sometimes in German, but Framma would always end up saying, “Oh, Frampa!” to our never-ending delight.  I can hear her saying it now like it was yesterday!

She had a major crush on Elvis Presley and was jealous of Priscilla.  She was heartbroken when The King died.

I remember her teaching me some seriously delicious cuss words in German, which shall not be repeated here.

She got to meet Larick last Christmas, which I’m very grateful about.  It was yet another hilarious moment.  I stood Larick in front of her, introduced her, and she got a big mischievous smile and said with a gasp, “It’s a MAN!!!”  Larick naturally adored her, and Uncle Jerry got a kick out of it. Apparently she had this picture hanging in her assisted living home and looked at it every day, making sweet comments about it.

But what I remember most is her unconditional love for everyone, and she was so very proud of her family.  I stayed with her often as a child, and she took good care of me, hugging me and encouraging me.  She gave me back rubs, which made me drool. Never once did she say a cross thing to me–well, that is, unless she was punishing me for naughty behavior, which I deserved!  There was that time I stole and ate the whole can of Vienna Sausages from the pantry and drank Purex from the sink… Oh and the time I sneaked into her bedroom, dialed the Operator, and was having an animated conversation until she came in and ended the party (apparently the operator was very amused).  Those were the days!  Bad Badger!  Sorry, Framma.  🙁

I know Framma has located my Mom, Frampa, Nan, and all of our other departed loved ones in Heaven, and I can guarantee she’s already taken a stick to Frampa to get him in line!  She has been pointing her finger at the Heavens ever since he passed eight years ago, saying, “Frampa, just you WAIT until I get up there!  You are in BIG trouble!” So look out, Frampa.  Can’t help you on that one. Just behave!

Auf wiedersehen, Framma, until later.  Keep Frampa out of trouble.  And give my Mom and everyone else a hug from me. I know you are enjoying polka’ing to your heart’s content with Frampa again and laughing until you cry.  Everybody dance!!!!