Lessons from Grandma’s Kitchen Table
Many of my life lessons were learned at Muriel Ringle’s kitchen table. Muriel is my grandma and she died on June 26, 2018 after nearly 97 years of life. All of her life was spent in Fremont, Nebraska. According to the 1940 federal census, as 18 year-old Muriel Lingle in 1939 she made $156 cleaning houses in town. It surprises me not at all that she told the census worker that she made not $155 but $156 that year. To Grandma, every dollar counted. By the time the next census worker came around in 1950, she would have been married to my granddad, Ernie Ringle, for about four years. They had 56 years to go, at that point. But back to the table…
It was crammed into a small kitchen in a white two-story house on “the edge of town” and was frequently covered with an oh-so 70s yellow vinyl floral tablecloth. A lot happened at that table. People drank beverages of both the child and adult variety, ate dinners, dribbled popsicles, smoked cigarettes, talked, played cards, and laughed. Sometimes there were arguments but mostly I remember the laughter. I also remember Grandma quickly getting to her feet whenever she heard a car or truck rumbling down the gravel long before Luther Road was paved and peeking through the kitchen curtain to see who might be stopping by. Often, someone was.
I do not share DNA with Grandma but we do share a similar personality. No doubt my no-nonsense attitude, which comes in very handy as a high school teacher, and my inability to sit still for long come from her. Every time I find myself hovering around to throw away the wrapping paper at Christmas and shove it in a garbage bag before the pile gets too big, I think of her. Grandma certainly wanted everyone to be happy but it was plain to see that she was just wired to keep moving. It made her uncomfortable to not have something to do. In the hours before Granddad died in 2006, Grandma grabbed a bucket and went outside to wash the kitchen windows. An outsider might have found this odd but I knew what she was doing. She needed a few minutes in her comfort zone and used a very normal task to prepare herself for the pain of saying goodbye to her husband.
I would not classify Grandma as “sweet” but there is no question that she was intuitive and she was loving. In January 1995, my mother, Marsha, suddenly died at the age of 46. A couple of days later, Grandma walked by as I angrily wrestled with my suitcase in the middle of our living room, impaired by grief and a soon-to-be-operated-on injured knee. Her first reaction was one of bewilderment at why I was so mad at my suitcase but she quickly surmised that the suitcase wasn’t the problem and gave me a hug and said, “I know, it’s hard to take.” Indeed it was, but she made it a bit easier.
When I was growing up, I was often either sitting at Grandma’s table or hanging around it, usually scavenging for food. I had many cousins and a younger brother who were often doing the same thing. We kept Grandma busy but suffice to say, she remains the only person in my life who could simultaneously cook dinner, redirect 9 year-olds who were running through her house and, using only a snap of the fingers and death stare, prevent a dog from inching a paw over an imaginary line that separated the kitchen from the forbidden zone: the rest of the house.
Here is what I learned from Muriel Ringle at her kitchen table:
1. Even the most mundane task should be done well.
2. Turn off the television when you have visitors.
3. Offer guests something to drink no matter what the time of day. If they are lucky, you might grace them with some homemade pie or cookies.
4. Be grateful when your significant other buys you a Christmas gift even when you tell them not to do so.
5. Pack for a vacation early. A week in advance is not too soon to air out your suitcase.
6. Take advantage of the weekly specials at the grocery stores. Why waste money? Send your significant other to go get those ten cans of corn, too. You have other things to do.
7. Be humble. Don’t brag, but it is fine to accept a compliment.
8. Move your furniture around to prevent wear and tear on the carpet.
9. Do not, under any circumstances, allow feet on your furniture.
10. Take joy in the simple things. They add up to be the really important things.
