Grandma Aggie

I mentioned yesterday that Timmy and Keith are moving out of our great-grantparents’ house. Seeing as how our grandparents and great-grandparents have been gone for years, you haven’t heard much about the grandparents on either the Goldenstein or Page sides of my family. But I’m here to tell you about an absolute legend today, folks. Great Grandma Agnes. Most people don’t know much of their great-grandparents, and many have never met them, but Maude and I are in the unique position of actually having had more living great-grandparents than grandparents for our whole lives. One of the most special of those great-grandparents being “Grandma Aggie” (not any more special than the other great-grandparents, necessarily, I guess just more known, as most of us Page cousins grew up near her, and spent more time with her than we did with most of our actual grandparents).

Now, Grandma Agnes was one hell of a woman, and I’ll try to paint an accurate picture of her here, but I’m going to call on Mama G, Uncle Bart, Aunt Judy, the Page cousins, and I may even text out some requests to some second cousins on the Page side to add some favorite Aggie moments in the comments. Basically, you’ll want to check back here for the next few days to learn more.

Besides being a good ol’ Midwestern wife, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, a pillar in the church, and one hell of a cook/baker, Grandma Agnes was probably best known in the community for her mowing. As in, taking care of her lawn. Now, Grandma Agnes was born in 1911, and was therefore in her 80s and 90s for most of the time that I knew and remember her, and she didn’t die until around age 98. Grandpa Earl (her husband) died in the early 90s, and Grandma Agnes lived alone on the farm almost up until her death. Not only did she live there alone, but she took care of the lawn well into her 90s and you’d be good and goddamned if you were going to mow it for her. So, great, Bev, your really old grandma took care of her lawn- so what? Well, let me tell you so what. So what, Aggie always wore a surgical cap when she mowed. So what, she lived right off a fairly busy highway and would whip that goddamn mower out of the ditch, straight up toward the highway at Mach speed before turning right back down into the ditch, no matter what vehicles may have been coming and going on said highway. It was a zero turn mower, and since I’m not totally sure what that means, I’ve included a picture of a similar one below. (keep in mind, Grandma’s was never this nice or this clean, and it was kind of all Uncle Bart and Smokey G could do to keep the damn thing running at times)

Now, just imagine a 90-year-old woman wearing a surgical cap barreling out of the ditch toward your moving vehicle on that thing.

Aggie was also well-known for her frugality. I mean, to be fair, the woman lived through the Great Depression as a young adult, and busted her ass for her entire life, so I’m not stating this as a fault, but merely as fact. Those styrofoam plates that your grapes come on at the grocery store? Yeah, that would be your plate at least nine times before it finally got tossed (usually in secret by another family member trying to get one over on Grandma). The mower that UB and Smoke were constantly repairing? Well, she ain’t buyin’ a new one. Oh, and the Thanksgiving turkey carcass? Give it to Grandma to de-bone because there won’t be one ounce of meat left on dem bones. (actual footage below)

When Grandma Agnes first met 20-ish-year-old Jasper, Maude’s then-boyfriend, the young couple stopped in and found her sitting at the table wearing no pants. And if you thought she modestly ran to put some on once company arrived, you’d be dead-ass wrong.

Aggie often wore “dickies” under her shirts, which is pretty amazing in and of itself, but picture this, guys: summer, 2004. Cousin Timmy’s high school graduation at Uncle Bart and Aunt Sue’s house. Mama G had gone over early to help Sue prepare, and Bev was tasked with picking up Grandma Agnes on the way. As I swung up to her garage and got out to help her into the car, she comes charging outta the house, commanding me to help her with her dickie. Well, I don’t know many people who could turn down a request from their sweet 90-something-year-old great-grandmother, so I did what you all would’ve done- I reached up the back of her shirt and pulled down her dickie. Remember how Aggie lives right off of a fairly busy highway? Yeah, that’s fairly important to note here.

Another great quality of Grandma Agnes’ was how she answered the phone. And answer the phone, she did. She was very involved in the local gossip circuit, which mostly involved her bestie, Barbara. Barbara lived in town, and Aggie out in the country, so they each had different crowds and goings-on to report to each other at least 783 times a day. Whenever Grandma answered the phone, it was with a certain pitch of “Hallo” that I can still hear (and replicate nearly perfectly) to this day. Note, “Hallo” as in, rhymes with shallow.

Crapshit. Grandma Aggie wasn’t one to swear, but when she did, this was her favorite word.

As mentioned above, Grandma was an excellent cook. One thing she’ll forever be remembered for is her world-famous party mix. You’d always be able to find a few huge jars of that savory mix of Chex, pretzels, and peanuts in the basement, as well as a Cool Whip container of it on the counter (see frugality comments above).

While I wasn’t there to witness it, as I wasn’t born yet, one of my favorite Grandma Agnes stories is of Uncle Bart and one of the cousins totally messing with her. One of them would hide in the deep freeze in the basement, and the other one would go up and tell Grandma they couldn’t get the freezer open. She’d mumble on and head downstairs to open it only to find one of her own grandchildren jumping out of it like a psychopath. Ah, the good ol’ days.

I’m sure there are hundreds more Aggie stories, but I’m going to leave you with a story of her mailbox. So, again, she lived off a highway, and in the Midwestern winters, the snowplows would pass her house many times. The “county guys” do the best they can to control that big-ass equipment, but in their haste to keep the highways clear for all the rest of us, they occasionally pop off a mailbox. As you know, there are lots of federal laws regarding mail and mailboxes, and it generally takes a lot of time and red tape before the county replaces your mailbox. Unless a 95-year-old woman comes charging out at you in a snowstorm, calling you a bastard. Then, the mailboxes get replaced fairly quickly.

Just sayin’.

Now, I’m sure some of the elder Page family members with more memories, brain cells, and years spent with Grandma will be here to post some additional memories, and to edit/clarify some of mine since I can’t remember for shit.

-Bev