Grandma Liza

Grandma Liza was an incredible grandmother. She loved us, she spoiled us, she tolerated us. On the left is a classic picture when she was young. She graduated from Malad High School in 1926. I don't remember all the classes they taught there at the time, but I do remember she mentioned Latin. I can not imagine having someone teach Latin in a rural school--only large urban schools have that kind of luxury in today's society.

Grandma was very bright, and she was incredibly independent: a true free spirit in every way. And although she was a very short Welsh woman, she could put anyone in their place if they needed it. She never put up with any kind of monkey business.

She was an incredible cook. I remember the gravy she made, but more importantly, I remember everything she had at Thanksgiving Dinner, when a large group of family members met at her house every year. For me it was exciting to see cousins I rarely had a chance to be together with during an afternoon. And I remember how much fun the dinners were. Uncle Jenk told jokes that raised a few eyebrows. The kids never understood them. When he was an MC at Ann and my reception in 1974, my mother told him he would have to soak his jokes in Biz, a popular stain remover for clothing.

That night he related that story and said that he preferred different soaps: Cheer and Joy, a popular clothing soap and a dish soap widely used at the time. The people from Malad who were there really laughed at that. He was popular, and he also served in the Idaho Legislature for a very long time.

I don't remember the number of grandma's address on Bannock Street, but I think it 167 Bannock. That was only five or six houses away from us. She doted on me. When I was still quite young, I would stand next to her and measure how tall I was with the flat of my hand. That had to be irritating for her. I have noticed that Grandpa Cles, who was over six feet tall, always slumped a bit when he stood next to her in a picture. I think it was his way of not embarrassing her. When you are young, you don't think about things like that, and even today, I am not what you call the sensitive type. I often do things that shock and annoy people. Sometimes I do it on purpose. But I would never hurt a family member's feelings, other than one sister and several distant cousins.

Notice how grandpa not only slumped a bit, but he also stepped down from the step. Grandpa never let anyone belittle my grandmother or talk to her rudely, and my dad taught me that quickly. It was how he taught me to view my mother too.

Whenever I needed some money, whether for a model I liked putting together, or for some of the balsa wood flying planes you could by for 10 to 25 cents, I would stop by and mow her lawn. I pretended not to be interested in any money, but she always stuffed $1.50 in my pocket. It was usually a dollar bill and a fifty cent piece. During the winter I would shovel the snow from her walks. I feel guilt for that now. I should have done it for free, especially everything she did for me.

In the picture on the right, we had a dinner with grandma one evening when Julie Cooper, our first cousin, was there for a visit. Dad was most likely just home from feeding livestock and doing other chores during the winter. At one time we wintered cattle in Malad, but at the time of this picture, I can not say for sure. Dad most likely just arrived from the ranch after a long day in the cold. I always rode with him on Saturdays, and I still remember the itch I would feel in my feet whenever they would get so cold. And it would get cold on the ranch.


This picture is Thanksgiving 1951, mom and dad's senior year of high school. From the left are Grandma Liza, Great Grandma Thomas (behind her), Aunt Sara, Aunt Delila, Nellie Lilly, Jess Park Ward, Great Grandma Ward (in front), Aunt LaVerne, Great Grandpa Ward, my dad, my mom and Jess Ward. There were others who for some reason chose not to be in the picture, because I can not imagine Uncle Jenk not being there, or Aunt Ada and Uncle Earl. I remember that grandma liked a picture after most dinners, and I also remember some adults not wanting to be in the picture. As cold as it looked outside on this day, it would make sense.

These dinners were fantastic. And the best part was always dessert. After all these years, I have not changed all that much.

I will always have fond memories of Thanksgiving and Christmas: the smell of turkey, the taste of homemade pies and Christmas pudding, the sound of laughter and fun and the warmth of family. There was always a pan of pudding sauce on the stove. I would sneak tastes with a teaspoon.

Grandma Liza always spent Christmas with grandkids, sleeping with all of them in one bed. At ths time of my life, I realize some things that you don't understand when you are young.

Being a pop pop, I now know how little sleep you get when there are wiggling little ones next to you that either do not want to sleep or want just one more story. And with grandma's situation it would mean, especially with all of them in the same bed, even more giggles and wiggles and even less sleep. And that bed was not a king or queen either, because I remember that the one bed was only a twin if not even just a double.

In the beginning, grandma stayed with us every Christmas, but eventually, she would come every other year. Grandma Liza did her best to be fair, so one year she would stay with Aunt Janice, Uncle Dennis and Julie and the next year she would stay with us.

The Christmas in the pictures above and below was when my parents stayed in the Spencer place, a home that Sorenson's let us use until our new one was complete. This was early Christmas Day, after we opened the presents. And the day began early. The tradition began while still living on South Main. We would get up at 2:00 a.m. Grandma would always try to talk us out of it, but when we refused and walked in the darkness to the tree and gifts, she came with us. "Oh, you little darlings," she would say.

This picture happened a little later on Christmas Day that same year. But even then, it was still dark outside. Grandma was not feeling well that year.

I remember that my parents were at some friends until late for a party on Christmas Eve, most likely Sorensons and Crowthers. That was one year we didn't have a large dinner that night. The kitchen was not large, and there was not a lot of room for people to eat. And I'm sure that my parents did not want to have a dinner in a home that Sorensons had just spent so much money replacing carpets and painting walls. Regardless how careful you are, little ones still have a way of spilling sodas, and holiday dinners in particular have good things that make nasty stains.

We stayed up late on Christmas Eve, watching an old black and white version of The Christmas Carol. I remember how excited grandma was, because it was one from the 30's, a classic the networks still play every year during the holidays. Grandma was a real sport that year, because she was not feeling well at all. I remember that. She had said that she would not stay with us, but we pleaded for her to spend the night with us, and she came. It made Christmas something special.

Getting poles in Island Park was not an easy job. Each one was at least 18 to 20 feet, and the base was also about eight inches in diameter. Every pole weighed at least 85 pounds or more, because they were green. Cutting dead wood was not wise, because they often did not last, so we only cut and loaded "green" wood--extremely heavy but sturdy enough when they dried to be an advantage in a future corral.

Cutting the trees was easy. But loading was another story. Dad would cut the tree as close to the ground as possible with the chainsaw, cutting as far as he could without it tipping. I would push against it, until we dad started to cut from the other side. Occasionally it would remain standing, even after the final cut sliced through the base of the tree. In a case like that, the tree was in a thick stand of other trees. Then dad and I would grab the base of the tree, lifting it and running to one side. The tree would crash to the ground. As soon as it fell, dad would cut the branches quickly with the chainsaw, but it didn't do it cleanly. I would use an ax to finish that while dad looked for another tree.

We could only cut those the U.S. Forest Service marked with blue paint. And the trees had to be within the lot that dad purchased a permit for the day we arrived.

Loading trees was a difficult job, but we worked hard and quickly. We were in Island Park for at least five or six days. That meant one or two tough days of hard work and some great fishing. Grandma asked to come with us one particular year. It was not a pleasure trip. In the picture above, she is in a paddle boat with Jill and Ann at Mack's Inn, where we always stayed.