Inez, also known as my Grammie, was a wonderful woman with a wattle. Like, a legit turkey-like wattle under her neck and she used to get sooooo mad when I played with it. In my defense, I was a little kid and it was so soft! Weird, I know. I loved Grammie and Grampie and visiting them in the summers. There were always fresh grapes growing in the back yard and a tinkle of music every time the kitchen door opened. Their kitchen was red and white. And when I say red and white, I mean EVERYTHING was either red or white. The carpet (in the kitchen! Gross!) was red as was the formica counter top. The cabinets were white and the back door which led into the kitchen was hung with red and white beads. Every time the door opened, a music box turned on and played a little jingle while the door was open. Just thinking about it makes me happy! I have always had a little red in my kitchen to honor Grammie.
Inez was born in 1910 on an idyllic farm in north western Illinois, the first of four sisters and two brothers. When she was five years old, her sister, Doris, was born pre-maturely. The doctor arrived by horse and buggy and told Grammie’s mother, Lavina, to put Doris in the oven to keep her warm (Doris lived to the ripe old age of 94). Later, Inez worked in the doctors lunch room at the local hospital and married my Grampie, George, at a time when married women weren’t allowed to work. In fact, they got married in the next state and kept their marriage a secret for a whole year just so Grammie could continue to work. They settled down in a small pink house near the farm and had two sons fourteen years apart, the first in 1934 and the second in 1947 (my dad). Grammie and Grampie were regular church goers and belonged to a several community groups. Grampie was involved in Boy Scouts throughout his life. Grammie was a housewife with, based on the number of recipes she had stuffed in the chocolate box, culinary dreams. My sweet Grammie passed away in 1993.