Many years ago, and shortly after I was married, my wife asked me to take her to her Grandmas place for a visit. So, we made the long trip from the big city to a little town in south western Minnesota called Bellingham. A hamlet of maybe 500 people. Then out of town we traveled on a dusty country road until we came to a one lane road that led to a little shack, right next to a corn field. The road was muddy and rutted, so not wanting to get the car stuck we parked the car and walked up the road towards the house. The old lady had no idea we were coming and she had no phone to call her, so as my wife put it, “It was going to be a surprise.” I asked her, “What if she isn’t home?” her answer was, “She’s always home.” She has no other place to go.
As we got closer to the house the back-screen door opened and out came this diminutive little woman, arms wide open walking towards us dressed like a refugee from Europe in 1930. At the time I couldn’t help but think she reminded me so much of Mother Theresa the way she looked. A white apron wrapped around her tiny body and on her head was this babushka that contained most of her silver hair inside. But it was her face that I couldn’t help staring at. It was as wrinkled as skin could be and deep set in her face were the brightest blue eyes I had ever saw. She sported a toothless smile that went from ear to ear and she kept saying over and over. “Gott im Himmel, Gott im Himmel. Schau wer hier ist.” For those who don’t know German. Loosely translated she was saying “God in heaven. Look who’s here.”
She invited us into her one room house and gave us each a half a glass of warm beer and some bread she had baked. What I have a rough time putting into words, is how happy, how absolute giddy she was to see her granddaughter. I had come there that day only to make my wife happy. I could have listed a hundred things I would have rather been doing that day but I am here to tell you today. Had I done something else that I would have no memory of today, I would have lost a beautiful moment. But here I am 55 years later and that memory of that old lady lives on in my mind as if it was yesterday. I have since met politicians in high office, C.E.O.’s of large companies, celebrated sports figures and famous people from many walks of life. None of them ever stuck in my memory like this poor, almost destitute, old German Immigrant lady who just happened to be my wife’s grandma. And now, I ask myself why?
My only explanation is I was so touched by the love this old lady showed us. She had nothing of value but a decrepit shack on the prairie and lived in squalor, but the love she had for her granddaughter and the happiness it had brought her that day, It was simply love personified. It was so beautiful and so simple that even reduced to the lowest common denominator of a tearful hug on a muddy farm road, it defied words.There is something to be said about human emotions, that bring out happiness that all the money in the world cannot buy.
We never saw her again. A year later she died and we never found out until she was gone and buried. Gone but never forgotten.
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