Grandma's Treasures

Sitting looking out at the waves crashing against the beach from my deck, feeling a bit chilly even with the sun on my face, I start thinking about my grandma. Gladys. She has been gone a few years now, but has not left my heart. Her gift changed my life.

She was a difficult woman in my dad and his brother’s eyes. She never wanted boys, and was continually reminding them. When I came along, the first grandchild and a girl, my grandma blossomed. She was still ornery and downright rude to people at times, but not me. I was her special pet. Although my grandparents where not particularly well off, she enjoyed lavishing me with gifts.

Visiting her in the nursing home was always hard. Hard seeing how frail she had become, and what I now know, being inflicted with Dementia. Back then I just thought she was a bit weird. Her memory fluctuated. Sometimes she would remember my name, other times not. She always recognized my touch, smell and voice. She loved it when I brought Keesha my dog with me. I think about how hard it must be today when visits are not allowed due to Covid. Especially for those with Dementia, who can’t understand why their loved ones are not coming to see them, and when they do, it is through a window. No touch, smell and listening to their voices muffled by masks. How dreadful. How sad.

Grandma was always a prude and rather uptight woman. Soon after moving to the nursing home her personality changed. She became preoccupied with sex, insisting that the male carers and her doctor was intent on touching her “down there” and would say “they just want to have sex with me.” She became jealous when she thought her doctor was sleeping with Glenda her sister. Insisting that this was happening and refused to believe otherwise.

Making the 150-mile trek to visit her was on a monthly basis. Sometimes I asked myself why bother? Do these visits really make a difference? I know they did, even if she forgot about it as soon as I walked out the door. Just because someone’s memory has deteriorated, doesn’t mean that being with people they love doesn’t matter. Often individuals with Alzheimer's lose their short-term memory but can speak in great detail about their past. I enjoyed listening to stories from her childhood through adulthood and reminiscing over the times we spent together. She always held on to her beige purse, which she had for years. Strapping it on her walker when she roamed around the facility. She slept with it in her bed at night. Not much inside: A comb, several pairs of glasses and napkins she nabbed from the dining room. And a little black book, which she never allowed anyone to see.

There were four specific treasures that were of most importance to her.

The first was her precious recipe box. An old reddish wooden box with all her special concoctions ranging from Almond Rocca cookies to her special fried chicken. My favorite was her Tuna Casserole, topped with crushed potato chips.

The second was a bundle of love letters grandpa wrote to her when they were courting and first married. He died five years before grandma went into this care home. I still miss him. My grandma was a school teacher, and when they married, she would either have had to leave her job (as only unmarried women were permitted to be a schoolteachers), or lie. She chose the latter. Grandpa worked a hundred miles away and always sent letters, usually including a rhyme.

I love you my pretty wife,

You will be with me all my life.

I miss our days together,

The distance won’t be forever.

The third was a diary. My grandparents owned a small “summer cabin” on Clear Lake with a stunning view of Mount Rainier. I had my own small detached “Cheryl’s House”. One room with twin beds. They had a red row boat named Cheryl Anne, after me of course. So many memories. Grandpa listening to jazz. Staying up late playing Tripoli for pennies. Swimming in the lake. Eating too many sweets. Helping grandpa with his never-ending projects. There were picnics and celebrations. Grandma kept a journal of all the activities that transpired over the years. Starting from when they bought the land and grandpa, with help of his 15-year-old son (my dad) built the home. When I was eight, watching on a black and white TV, Armstrong’s first step on the moon. And then there were the different crises that occurred, such as when grandpa accidently hacked into a hornet’s nest and was rushed to the hospital. Memories. All recorded in this journal.

The final treasure was a little black book hidden in a drawer with her perfumes, lipsticks and hair accessories. It was taboo to look at this book, even though we knew it existed. I actually forgot about it until one of the last times I saw grandma alive.

One evening out of the blue I got a call from my father saying that they are having an estate sale at grandma’s apartment tomorrow. Right now his wife was there putting price tags on everything. He said they will make sure not to sell the cedar chest, which was meant for me, but pretty much everything else will be sold or taken to Goodwill. The sale will be starting at noon, so I needed to get there before this time. Not even a day’s notice! I was fuming. Tearful. The next day I arrived an hour before “opening time.” My grandparents had a modest lifestyle with not an exceptional amount of items of monetary value. They had an organ that my grandpa and uncle used to play. Plus it was a fun “toy” for the four grandkids. When I entered, my stepmother was making final arrangements for the sale. I didn’t know where to begin and walked around in a daze. I asked about the Lake Journal and was told this was with my uncle. Phew. I spotted the small music box I loved: a gramophone that played Beethoven’s Für Elise. I snatched it up. When entering the kitchen, I found on display a tattered reddish brown recipe box priced at 10 cents. Thinking it was empty, I still wanted the box as a memento. When I opened it I found her recipes inside. I was aghast thinking that my stepmother was planning on selling this part of our family’s history.

The next room I went into was grandma’s bedroom. I grabbed her gold-plated hair brush/mirror set. from her “special drawer”. Next was the guestroom with my cedar chest. At least I knew this was safe from eager bargain hunters. I opened the chest and found various items such as baby clothes, blankets, photos and in a box, the bundle of letters from my grandpa. Although I knew I was getting the chest, I didn’t trust that what was inside it wouldn’t be put up for sale, so took everything. Leaving with a heavy heart I tried to cheer myself up before visiting grandma.

She recognized me this time and was quite lucid. I said I’d been at her apartment and asked if she knew what was happening. She became shaky and tearful, saying my dad told her everything was being sold. She asked him if she could go one more time to get some things, but was told “no”. She told me that one of the items she wished she had was her recipe box, but knew would be sold or tossed out. I excused myself saying I needed to use the bathroom. I scurried out to my car and brought back her recipe box. Upon showing it to her she began to cry, but these were happy tears.

Time for me to go. After giving her a hug and kiss on the cheek I headed for the door. She stopped me from leaving. Rummaging through her beige purse, she pulled out a little black book. I asked if this was the book she kept hidden from everyone. She said yes. She wanted me to have it, but not to read it until I got home. Such a mystery which took me a week before I had the courage to see what was written inside.

The first entry read:

Not now, but later, a gift will come. If you are reading this now, you will not know what it is.

Second entry:

A little something from my husband, who loves his family so much.

Third entry:

When the time comes, I hope this finds the right person.

Forth entry:

Cheryl. You were the most wonderful gift your parents gave me. Look under the carpet in my bedroom. The corner by the window under the nightstand.

Tied securely inside with a ribbon, was a key.

My heart raced as I was not sure how I was going to get back into her apartment. I called dad, not mentioning the book, but asking when I could collect my chest. He said they were going on Saturday. I said I would meet them. Upon arrival I found a few more items that hadn’t been sold, such as the ever-so-important blue candy dish that was always full. I went into her bedroom, and although the night stand was gone, I knew the exact spot grandma wrote about. The carpet was securely attached, but there was a small area of a couple of inches that was raised. I cautiously pulled up the carpet and found an envelope, which I promptly put in my bag. After tucking the carpet back in, I had one more poke around thinking about the many memories. I felt sadness for grandma, as she did not have the chance to do this herself.

This time when I arrived home, I opened the envelope immediately. Initially I was confused, but soon realized what was inside was a stock certificate and a note: The key will open a treasure, and this will be a journey. Follow the clues. #1 Chest Bottom.

I’m not a financial whizz so had no idea what, if anything, the stock was worth. Regardless, it was a nice gesture. My grandpa worked his way up with AT&T. He started working with this phone company as a 14-year-old youth, building telephone lines. Grandpa had run away from home after his mother died and was being raised by an abusive stepfather. Without a formal education he eventually became a top executive in the company. Grandpa enjoyed playing the stock market. It was never an interest of mine, even though he tried to explain it to me. Evidentially he purchased stock in Apple Computer at the right time. When I took the certificate to my bank it turned out the stock was worth over $20,000.

Besides me and my sister Marie, there are two other grandchildren. Scott and Karen. Of all of us, Scott was the most loving and attentive to grandma. As we got older and our lives became “too busy” he was the one who spent the most time with her. Grandma didn’t treat him well and would always favor her granddaughters. This used to upset us, but there was no convincing her. When discovering this gift, it was clear the money needed to be shared evenly between the four of us. $5,000 was a lot back then. It helped Marie with getting her Masters Degree. Karen put the money toward opening a hair salon. Scott was in a band and this helped with making recordings. Me? I was able to sell my house and with this extra money, buy a place by the seaside. It was a dream come true.

Who would have ever guessed that grandma kept this special secret in her little black book? Solving the mystery of the key, well, that treasure hunt will soon begin.