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My Grandparents

by Linda Strawn
8/23/2007 / Family

Growing up in rural Sonoma County during the sixties and seventies has left me with many wonderful memories. Having four sisters and two brothers, there was always someone to play with and never a dull moment. Our parents loved us and made the most of my dad's seasonal income. Back then it didn't matter that we didn't have our own phone or a T.V. in our room. We had all we needed because we had each other.
Aside from my parents and siblings, I attribute much of my childhood happiness to my maternal grandparents who owned and operated a prune ranch on the south side of Healdsburg. My grandmother, Viola, was born in 1900, the only girl of four children born to James and Maude Brooks. James was one of eleven children whose parents were among the first families to settle in the Windsor area just south of Healdsburg. In 1919, Viola married Carl William Fiege who emigrated from Germany when he was three years old. I heard stories about Grandpa inventing things, he even held patents, but to me he was always a prune farmer.
My Grandparents' two story house was always a special place. Not only was it the place for family gatherings, it was also a sanctuary for me, the weary oldest child. I spent a lot of time in that house, especially in the summer during the prune harvest. As the years went by, my stays got longer and longer.
Since we lived way out in the country, it seemed as though our grandparents lived in some huge city. Actually, Healdsburg at the time was quite small. It has grown since then, but still remains a quaint tourist town in the wine country. I suppose one of the things that made the ranch seem city-like was the fact that Highway 101 was only a quarter mile away. In fact, from the bedroom where I stayed, there was a marvelous view of the freeway. One of my favorite hobbies was lying in bed at night and watch for traffic, sparse as it was. I used to try to guess if any of the north-bound cars would take the off-ramp by watching the headlights, which is all I could see anyway. If the car veered ever so slightly and slowed down just enough, it usually meant that it was taking the exit. Eight out of ten times my guesses were right on.
Another one of my favorite things was soaking in the tub in my grandparents' huge bathroom, especially when lots of bubble bath was added. We didn't have a bathtub at our house so the tub was an icon of luxury. The stairway leading up to this fancy bathroom was another source of entertainment for us kids as we loved sliding down its carpeted steps.
When we weren't inside, we were out running through the vineyard, sneaking down to the river to watch the gravel trucks, or sitting on the front steps waving at the cars going by on Old Redwood Highway. When we were behaving ourselves, we would be sitting in the coolness of the arbor in the backyard sipping 7-up or walking with Grandpa to the dehydrator.
The dehydrator was a hub of activity from mid-July and into the fall when loads of prunes were brought in from the orchards to be washed and dried. I used to pick some of those prunes, not a very pleasant job, but it enabled me earn some extra money. After a few years of that, I was "promoted" to conveyor operator at the dehydrator. This contraption was where bins of prunes were emptied into a hopper then moved along a conveyer where leaves, stems, and other debris were washed away. At the end, the fruit was emptied onto trays. The trays were stacked on carts and rolled into these long tunnels. At the end of the tunnels were gas furnaces that blew heat into the tunnels which dried the fruit. After the fruit was dry, workers would pick up each tray, invert it and run it along these rollers that would loosen the sticky fruit. From there they were loaded into boxes and hauled off to market. My job at the dehydrator was to turn on the conveyor and, every now-and-then, stop it so that I could clean the leaves out of the trap. Although it was not what I would call a career choice, it wasn't a bad job!
The house, prune orchards, and dehydrator were all great things to experience growing up but it is the memories of my grandparents that bring a smile to my face. I can still see Grandma in the kitchen where it seemed she spent ninety percent of her time. She worn nylon stockings with a line up the back of the leg, always wore a girdle, and had her hair done every week. She drove a blue Oldsmobile Delta 88. It had a blue interior that was always clean and a blue steering wheel.
Watching her drive was always fascinating. Whether it was the way she expressed her frustration at less than perfect drivers, or the way her wedding ring tapped on the steering wheel every time she made a turn, riding with her was always an experience. Most of our rides in Grandma's car took us to Plaza Market where Grandma did all of her grocery shopping. It had old wooden floors and always smelled good inside. But the best part was the gumball machines that stood next to the door. No trip to the market was complete without us kids begging Grandma for spare change so we could patronize those amazing spheres with the red metal jackets and silver knobs.
Grandpa was pretty special in his own right. He always wore a smile and was the most even-tempered guy I knew. I could count on just one hand the times I heard him raise his voice. When he did, we all knew he meant business! Grandpa always wore blue denim bibbed over-alls and a safari hat. Unless it was a special occasion and he had to wear dress clothes, this was all I ever saw him wear. Grandpa was easy going for the most part, while Grandma was the one going a hundred miles an hour, just stopping long enough to have a smoke or take her daily afternoon nap. There was no denying that Grandpa loved Grandma with all his heart but he teased her constantly. Even though he did it out of love, sometimes she'd get so frustrated with him. There was one time she turned to me and whispered, "stay single and raise your kids the same way!"
I heard many stories about how Grandpa would feel sorry for vagrants and bring them home for a hot meal. He was kind to everyone, so was Grandma, but I think she wasn't always happy about Grandpa bringing a dirty hobo into the house. In spite of it all, my grandparents had a wonderful marriage that lasted nearly sixty years. They loved eachother and their family.
It was that love that saw us through some pretty hard times. We never went hungry, lacked good shoes to wear, or a coat to keep us warm because my grandparents were always there for us, taking up the slack. I look around at what's happening to families today and it saddens me. I see so many broken homes, neglect, and abuse. I see parents on drugs and their kids on the loose. I see grandparents having to raise their grandchildren but not every child is so fortunate.
Not every child has grandparents like I did.

Linda was born and raised in Northern California and currently lives in Shasta County with her husband and daughter. She is a newly published author. Her debut novel, Singing Winds, was released in July 2007.
http://www.lindastrawn.com

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