I first met Inez when my family moved to the farm when I was nine years old. Our house had once been part of the Eddy farm, and Dad had purchased it from an Eddy relative who had lived there. I became friends with her daughter Joan, and spent time playing at her house as a child. She always, over the course of those 50 odd years, made me feel welcome.
I remember from those years on the farm, what a hard working woman she was - and still is. She always was busy, raising her five children, keeping a neat and clean house, feeding the men in her life who worked the land, often during spring planting time and fall harvest, making their meals and carrying them out to the fields so they didn't have to take the time to come to the house to eat.
She kept a huge vegetable garden that was located between our house and hers, and I often, during the summer, would see her out hoeing or pulling weeds. In the fall, she canned the vegetables, made jams and jellies and pickles to feed her family over the long Minnesota winters.
Her youngest daughter was born while the family still lived on the farm. I remember walking in the kitchen door of her house just days before the birth of Jeanine, to see to my amazement, Inez up on a step ladder, washing the kitchen ceiling. Preceding the births of my children, all I wanted to do was lay in bed like a lump, and this picture of her on that ladder so close to her time to deliver, has remained with me ever since.
When I married her oldest son in 1964, she became like a mother to me. There was never a time that I couldn't stop by her house and feel welcome. She has always been interested in what her grandchildren are doing, and always kept a jar of her wonderful chocolate chip cookies ready for visits from them. She would laugh when the kids would go, even as toddlers, right to the cupboard where she kept her cookie jar and say, "Cookie, Grandma."
Even when her son and I parted ways, she remained an important part of my life. Whenever I see her, even after all of these years, I am always greeted with a hug. When Mike and I were living in Arizona for a short time, we went to see her at an RV park where she and Henry, after he retired, would spend their winters. After Henry died, she and her friend Sylvia would make the trip there to spend the winters away from the snow and cold. On that occasion, I was greeted with the same love and hugs that I have enjoyed all these years. She treated Mike with the same affection, and he thought the world of her.
She started taking Senior bus trips all over the country. Whenever I would see her at a family gathering, she would tell me about her latest trip. It just tickled me to see her doing something that brought her so much enjoyment, especially after working so hard all of her life.
The kids tell me that she still lives alone in her house in Willmar...the one where she and Henry moved at his retirement from the farm. She keeps her own house, mows her own lawn, and takes care of herself at age 92. David told me that he had stopped several times to see her when his job took him through Willmar, but he rarely would find her at home. She goes out every day, having a schedule that would make me tired...seeing friends and keeping active.
http://www.4shared.com/file/82045209/ad86b2d1/Inez.htmlOn Sunday we talked of times past. I reminded her of a cocker spaniel the family had when I was a kid, named Taffy. Taffy had a litter of puppies, and Henry kept one of them. This pup had a habit of getting excited when he would see me, shaking his behind back and forth, looking like a Hula dancer. Henry had given him a name that I have long since forgotten, but I called the pup "Hula." One day Henry told me to stop calling the dog "Hula," as the pup wouldn't respond to his real name. He acted mad about it, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away. Inez laughed at the memory, and said she thought that the name I chose was a good one.
We talked of memories from life on the farm, of good neighbors who had passed on and those who were still in the area. We talked of Grandchildren and Great-grandchildren, and how busy they all are. She wanted to know all about my brother and sister, and what they all were doing now.
We even talked of lutefisk. She still makes it at Christmas time, although she says there are only a few who will eat it. She enjoyed it during the holidays, but always made another meat dish for the rest of us. Years ago, when she told me that she has one kettle that is used for nothing but lutefisk, I decided then and there that I was not brave enough to eat something that needed it's own cooking kettle. She still laughs at me for my cowardice. I will, however, given the opportunity, dive into a dish of her baked creamed corn that she made as well each holiday season, or sit up and beg for one of her chocolate chip cookies.
Inez is an amazing woman. She has lost her husband to cancer, as she has her oldest daughter. Her oldest son died a little over a year ago. And after all of this heartache, she remained more concerned about how I am coping with my loss than her own.
When it was time to leave after Jacob's birthday party, we seemed to postpone our parting as long as possible. It was with happiness at seeing her again mixed with regret that we see each other so seldom, that I gave her a final hug and told her how much I love her, and she responded in kind.
I am forever grateful that Inez has been a part of my life for so many years. I am blessed.
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