Memories from Sarah

Now, I realize that most of you are going to see this book and think, "OMG! Really, Sarah! You couldn't just jot down one or two stories like the rest of us?" And my answer is, NO! I couldn't. You all know me and that once I get going I become a force to be reckoned with. Besides, this isn't for you anyway, it's for Aunt Jo; and I know she'll love it no matter how short or looong it is. So here goes EVERYTHING!
I too, like a countless many others, have had the priviledge of knowing this sweet lady known by many different names and roles. From daughter, mom, grandma, great grandma, aunt, sister, friend, adoptive mother, and I'm sure many more; but for me she has always been my Hant Jo along with stepping in as the grandmother that I never had.
As I look back on my childhood and reminisce about the good old days, I believe that some of the most important lessons that I've ever learned I learned from Aunt Jo. She taught me that (#1) life isn't always fair and that no one is going to take it easy on you just because you're a good person. (#2) That falling down and making mistakes doesn't make you a failure, but that staying down and refusing to correct them does. (#3) That the only one who is responsible for you and your actions is you. She also taught me that (#4) if I work hard and do my best that I will feel good about myself and others will respect me; and that there may just be a reward in the end.
How did she teach me these things you might ask? Well, it wasn't how you would think; by being too hard on me. No, it was in the small things and areas of growing up that I learned these lessons; and it seemed that at every stage of my very young life there was a new level of difficulty to work on.
The earliest that I remember starting to learn them was when I was about 3 or 4 and it was in one of the most unconventional ways...while putting puzzles together at the kitchen table. (I believe the puzzle that we did most was of a bear in a raincoat carrying a lunch pail or maybe a suitcase? I think he was called Bearington Bear; does that sound right?) She showed me how to compare the pieces; their shapes, sizes, and color patterns until I found out where they went. Like most kids, I would pick a piece look at it for a couple seconds, get bored, and move on to another one; or at least try to. Although, I never quite got away with that. She would have me sit there and concentrate on it until I succeeded. To which she would give me a nod of approval and I would move on to the next one until the puzzle was complete. That was another thing, if we started something, then we always finished it. No matter what the task was, we never left anything incomplete. Which also taught me very early that (#5) I shouldn't start something I don't plan to finish.
As I got older, though; the ways I kept learning and improving on these life lessons changed. When I was old enough to start learning how to play games like Mexican Train, Uno, Yahtzee, Solitaire, Skip-Bo, and Phase 10, she made sure that I understood that she wasn't going to take it easy on me and downplay her game to make me feel better or give me more of an advantage at winning just because I was a kid. She wanted me to win fairly (which is where I learned lessons #1 and #4). We stuck to the rules! Yes, every rule, and if she wasn't sure about something (which didn't happen often...lol) then we checked the rule book to be sure. No shortcuts, easy ways out, cheating, or breaks.
In my opinion, those were the easy lessons to learn, or so I thought. I was sure that I understood them completely until I turned 7 and my world had come crashing down just weeks earlier. In losing my Dad, that's where I was able to fully comprehend that life isn't fair. Because it was no longer a matter of winning or losing at a game of cards, it was real life with real life problems that I had the misfortune of learning at a very young age. People said horrible things about me; that I would be a problem child, a troubled teenager, and might even commit suicide from the scarring I received at the most pivotal time in my childhood. No one knew that I heard these things or how they made me feel, but I remembered what I had learned from Aunt Jo. That's when I learned lessons #2 and #3, and where I dusted myself off, picked myself up (usually my dad's job), and became determined to come out of the situation on the winning side.
Even though the pain was real and the hurt cut deep, Aunt Jo didn't treat me any differently than before. She still held me accountable for my words and actions, gave me household chores while staying with her at her house, and didn't let me get away with anything just because my world stopped periodically. I think she knew what she was doing; she knew that I still needed my "routine" and the continual moulde of structure that I was used to. Which was hard for my mom to enforce because she was working 3 jobs just to take care of us and didn't get to see us as much as she wanted. I'm grateful to Aunt Jo for picking up the slack for my mom in those departments. She and Joni became cornerstones in our lives even more than before that year and every year after; permanent fixtures deep down inside of us.
The phrase, "Time heals all things", proved to be true and we all moved on somehow. In fifth grade, I learned to play the clarinet and became very good at it. I would go stay with Aunt Jo a couple times a month and whenever I would, I made sure that I took my clarinet with me. She would take me to see Uncle Bill at Founder's Nursing Home and let me play for him and the other residents. They loved it and I didn't realize it then, but she was teaching me how to make someone elses day better by doing even the smallest of things like playing some simple music, giving a smile while holding someone's hand, and daily taking the time to sit with a person you love to let them know they aren't alone even when they don't remember who you are or why you care so much. She was so strong and I admire that about her. I hope that I can be as strong if and when the time comes.
One of the most exciting things that I had to look forward to every year was helping Aunt Jo with her yard sale days. Many times a year, Aunt Jo and Joni would host a huge 3 day yardsale from their optimal space off of Addison Rd. and everyone had to stop there to check it out. There were so many different friends and family that would bring their goods to sell and it was set up like a flee market that spread across the entire surface of the front yards and driveways between Aunt Jo and Joni's houses. When I was old enough to help out (which just happened to be the summer of 1996), they put me to work helping to bag people's items up for them while they paid "The Lady In Charge". I'm sure you can guess who that was. Haha! Yep, Aunt Jo. I felt so important sitting there next to her and so excited that I got to help in what I thought was a detrimental way. After all, it would be utter chaos if there wasn't a bagger, right?  I also helped tear the tables down and pack everything up and carry it to the sheds and basement when the sales were over; and I thought I was on top of the world when she would hand me my "cut" of the money....$5. Lol! Come on, $5 is a lot to a little kid. I could buy like 20 pieces of candy with that.  After a couple years though, I had the surprise and honor of my life when Aunt Jo gave up HER chair and asked me (ME!) to take the money and hand out the change. Such an honor, such power, such responsibility; to sit in the "In Charge" chair was liberating. Yes, I do realize that I sound like a power-hungry maniac, but I wasn't. Just felt very proud of myself because I realized that what Aunt Jo said about my work being noticed by others when I do my best was true. And that sometimes, there really is a reward for doing a great job and giving it your all.
Over the next few years, she even left me by the cash box by myself to do everything. Bag the items while adding up the totals and writing them down in the log book to keep track of whose was whose. She taught me to be very polite and respectful. Patty and I were working together the summer of 2001 (which was one of the last yard sales I think) and I got paid $12 more than Patty. I was stoked! Aunt Jo said that she paid us for what we worked and earned. That was probably one of the first times that I did better than Patty. (Sorry, Patty. I had to share it.) We were both trying to raise money for camp that year at Shekinah in Tennessee, and I made $77 over those 3 days. I was able to get everything that I needed for camp and still have a lot left over. Around this same time frame, Aunt Jo taught Becca and I how to do plastic canvas types of crafts and we spent every waking moment at her house crafting. We loved it and even sold some of them.
I've learned so much from her and have so many fond memories that I get the privilege to think about regularly. When I sit down to do a puzzle, I always start by putting the edge pieces together, separating the inside pieces into color spectrums, and working methodically in one area at a time with all the pieces face up. I still can't go to the store and see a wide-eyed needle without smiling and thinking of her. Or see a crafting doll in a yard sale without wondering how she would decorate and dress her up. Would she be a washer-woman with her bucket of hand-made miniature cleaning supplies, or a witch dressed up for Halloween with her broom and pointy hat. I see a bucket of hodge-podge buttons of assorted shapes, colors, and sizes and remember the little flower pot people we used to make and use the buttons on strings as arms and legs dangling from their proper places. To most of us, a bingo chip was just that, a bingo chip; but to Aunt Jo it was a secure bottom to hot-glue her hand-made Mexican Train tokens on so they would stand upright. To you and me, a bag of cotton balls is just a bag of cotton balls; but to her they were endless possibilities of bunny tails, bear ears, and fabric stuffing for doll props. To us, a ball of yarn is a ball of yarn; but to her it was the hair that she would attach to and braid on her stuffed decorative/seasonal dolls to sell in her yard sales. I was always so enamored by her creativity and ability to turn ANYTHING into something WONDERFUL. People tell me often that they can't believe how artistic I am when it comes to things I've done and ideas I have. But I correct them saying that I'm not artistic; I'm just crafty and creative and that I get it from my Aunt Jo.
I have thoroughly enjoyed growing up with and next to this woman who has taught me so much and loved me so much. I couldn't have asked for a better Aunt, grandma, role model; and I thank God for her daily. She has been a great inspiration to me all these years and will continue to be for the rest of my years. I love you so much, Aunt Jo; and am extremely grateful that you never gave up on me. For being my guardian angel when my dad passed away and keeping me from (in his words) "falling through the cracks". You are greatly loved and I'll be forever honored to have you in my heart.

Sincerely,
Sarah Awifabus

Mail

While taking Traven to visit colleges something I have heard a few times struck me as odd.  When students receive mail and packages they get an email and then go to a central place on campus to pick it up.  This generation of college students will never feel the anticipation of checking their mailboxes each day(or several times a day) for a letter or maybe hit the jackpot with a package!

My Grandma was and still is the best letter writer.  For as long as I can remember, even when I was little, if we weren't living with them, we received regular packages and letters.  The times this meant the most to me was in college and boot camp.  I looked forward to reading all of the news from home and all of the surprise goodies in the packages.  It was a suite-wide holiday when I received a package from Grandma!  Boot camp was one of the times I felt the most alone so it was important to receive the words of love and encouragement.

Even now, I still love getting mail from my Grandma.  It is a shame that letter writing is a long art because even if you say the same thing, an email cannot relay the same feeling and emotion that a hand written letter can.  I challenge you to write someone you love a letter and see their reaction.

Memory from Christine Elizabeth English

Jo and Bill Stewart were best friends with my parents. So naturally their children Joni and Roger were best friends with my sister and me. Number # One I would have to say many times over and over Thank you, Thank you for my job at Corning Glass Works. 36 working yrs. until I retired in 2013. I loved going to Joni's house as we would go next door to see Grandma Yeaples and watch her homemade bread rise in the back room. If you were lucky to be there after it was cooked you could smell the warm bread cooking and then eat it hot. Grandma Yeaples always had on an apron. Jo and Bill were great card players and my parents were one of the couples that played cards with them. I remember camping with them at the race track. Anytime I went to Jo and Bill's home they would always make me fell like I was at home. I would sometimes go home with Joni after school on the bus and spend the night. We would go to Tuckers barn and the tucker boys milking the cows would always squirt us with cows milk. Back then the cows were milked by hand. ( Does that mean Joni and I are getting old?) LOL I'll never forget on Oct. 9th 1970 the day my dad was killed in a airplane accident. Who came and spent hours with my Mom and my sister and I. Jo Stewart did. You were just there for us for days. You answered phone calls,answered the door, marked the food dishes coming into the house. Made decisions while my Mom laid down. I love you Jo for all the love you have given me and my family all through the years. Please forgive me for not always making the time to visit you. I love you. 

Great Women Come From Great Women

It's August 4th and even though she has been gone for 30 years, I always think of my Great-Grandmother on her birthday. For the first 15 years of my life Grandma Yeaples was always there and as I grew I knew that I was lucky to grow up with my great-grandmother next door.  How many kids get to have dinner each night with their mom, grandparents, and their great-grandmother.  My favorite days were spending time with her while she was making bread or pies.  She could skillet fry fish like nobody's business and bowled well into her 70's.

This great lady is the one who taught Grandma how to be the great lady she is.  I come from great stock - hopefully, I live up to the high standards.

Grandma Yeaples, Grandma Stewart, and Mom

I just have so many memories from my childhood, with my mom. Like Cheri said, our entertainment was playing cards and camping, along with traveling. I miss playing cards, nobody plays cards today, like they use to so I play card games on my phone or computer - not the same, but I get to play my all time favorite game ......... Pinochle !! I miss our camping days and card playing days - this woman has taught me so much about life, helped me be the person I am today, even though I went through a rebellious time in life, she was always there to help me pick up the pieces. She is my best friend, my confidante - always there for me, no matter what. Even after her stroke, she was always there to listen and give a hug and try to still give a positive attitude on life - she is one amazing woman and I love her with all my heart.

Camping Memory from Nancy Atherton Smith

Aunt Jo and my mom would wait until dark and then go to the playground so they could play.  They didn't want anyone to see them during the day.

Oh, and let's not forget the watermelon roast that happened after the kids went to bed.  Did you really roast a watermelon?  My dad just smiles when I ask.

Camping and Cards

We did a lot of things for fun.  But, the two things I feel define our family entertainment is CAMPING and CARDS.

We have camped as long as I can remember.  I think Mom said that I first went camping when I was just a few months old.  I know that they camped since they were young and I was born into that.  It didn't matter if we went far away or close to home.  We couldn't wait until Grandma and Grandpa came home from work on a Friday so we could be off and running.  The work it took to go camping, organizing the camper, packing everything, and cleaning the camper were chores we all gladly helped with.  Seldom would we go camping alone.  My grandparents belonged to a camping club and made great friends through it that at least two generations of the family grew up calling "Aunts and Uncles".  The friends we went camping with and friends we made while camping are forever ingrained in my brain including their four-legged family members like a wonderful basset hound named Sir.  Camping was full of love, great friends, wonderful food, campfires, playing games, and CARDS.

I can't remember not playing cards.  I think our family members are born with a deck of cards in their hand.  As early as I remember we were playing the typical little kid games of Go Fish and Old Maid like normal families.  But, I remember at 5 or 6, as kids we were taught to "gamble" by playing Garbage (a combination of easy little games where you bet with pennies).  We didn't get to play poker with the adults until we were teenagers though.  Those of you lucky enough to have a copy of the Stewart Family Card Bible know that the card games didn't stop there.  As we got older, we were taught more and more games requiring more and more strategy and learning to bid.  Shanghai was a game that Grandma Yeaples(my great-grandmother) loved.  It is similar to Phase 10 but has a few twists.  I can't even begin to describe all of the games in her book, but the two "northern" games(as I tell my friends and family here) that seemed to be the staple when I was growing up was Euchre and Pinochle. These were the two games I considered "grown-up games" because they were complicated and required bidding, remembering which cards did what with other cards, strategy and other rules and twists.  I couldn't wait to learn these grown-up games. When I moved in with Grandma and Grandpa at 13, I learned cut-throat Euchre because there were three of us.  One thing about learning to play cards at a young age is they never "let us win".  We were taught as anyone was: play a couple open hands, a few hands with reminder about what trump was and then we were on our own to sink or swim.  This is how we also taught Traven to play any board game or cards as well.  We are continuing his education as he has learned a few of the card games from "the book" including Euchre and hopefully he will be learning Pinochle soon.  Thanks for giving me this legacy to pass on!

Guest Blogger Rebecca Jo

From before I was even born Grandma Jo, you have been special to me. I didnt know it at the time, but you were. Technically, you are my aunt. Emotionally, you are my grandma. But more importantly, you are my name sake. Most people hate being called by their first and middle names, and when I was young I didnt really like it either. But now that I am older and understand more about life, I love hearing someone call me Rebecca Jo. My name comes from the most amazing woman, and it truly is an honor. I take pride in my name, not because of the name, but because of who it comes from. Grandma Jo, you have been there for me through the up and the downs in more ways than I can write. No matter what was happening or what I did you always focused on the positive and helped me to see the brighter side of things. You taught me to take stock in the positives and not to dwell on the negatives. Even when life was hard on you, you puts other first. You are truly an amazingly, selfless woman. If I can become even a fraction of the woman you are today, then I will be happy. Grandma Jo, you are absolutely fantastic, and I love you very much. I can see why mom and dad chose to name me after you. I hope I can be a great as you and touch as lives is a positve manner.
      
    Rebecca Jo

Guest Blogger Marsha, Marsha, Marsha Ballance

What  to say about Grandma Jo....what is there not say. She is truly one of the most stubborn, caring, loving ladies I have ever known. But if you truly know her, Love just comes automatically with her, on both sides. I have to admit, that this was a scary family when they came into 3 Rivers over 10 years ago. But, when you get to know Gram, you don't have to know why, the over protection was there. After a few months, it was the first time in a long time I felt a grandmas love again. Until recently I have never heard a complaint or ouch out of her. Always just that beautiful smile with a "oh that's alright" I can say now that I am truly grateful, I have gained a second family, that I don't know what I'd do without. They all love me unconditionally, and I feel the same towards them. I also have to say Grandma Jo has one dedicated, and caring daughter who she is daily by her side. She might miss a day here or there, so she can recharge herself. But I've seen first hand, her guilt, and sadness knowing gram is sitting alone. Grandma Jo is one lady who deserves to be told and showed she is loved, for one simple fact. She might not be able to make her beautiful crafts anymore, or do her get a tax number yard sales, or any of the number of things she always did. But, one thing that never will be taken from her, is what she does the best anyways. She LOVES!! Thank you for loving me Grandma Jo.

Home

There are many, many songs and phrases about home and how important it is.  Between my first day of kindergarten and my last day of high school, I attended seven different schools and move thirteen times.  Some of those moves included moving back to Grandma's at different times.  No matter how many places we lived, home was Grandma's house.  It wasn't just us.  Anytime anyone needed a place to stay for a short while or a long while, they had it.  Even when a teenager shows up on her doorstep unannounced who needed a place to live for four years so she could go to high school at "home".  I need to pause and thank my Mom here.  I know it was a tough decision, but as a parent you do what's best for your kids at the time.  Mom unselfishly sent me to NY to live with Grandma to go to high school there with my old friends and most of all stability. Thanks Mom, I love you.  Aunt Lin pulls up in the driveway and says, "Here ya' go" and Grandma in all her infinite grace, had a moment of surprise and just took me in.  I love my grandparents for giving up their fairly new retirement to raise another teenager.  Thanks!

At 45 years old and married for 19 years, Jimmie still corrects me when I say "I'm going home" when we travel to NY.  I can't help it.  I love my home with my boys and it is home, but HOME will always be where Grandma is.

"My Mom" from Joni

I really don't even know where to begin about my mom - she is a very special lady and my best friend. We had our ups and downs in life, but that was because I thought I knew everything !! In my heart and mind, I had a perfect childhood, thanks to my wonderful mom & dad. I learned so much from my mom, about cooking and cleaning - I didn't adapt to the canning, like Cheri did, love home canned goods but that is too much like WORK 😍 I always enjoyed cooking and baking, which I learned from my mom, but after having my own diner.......Not one of my favorites. My mom and dad, were always there for me - no matter when or why, they never questioned me, just always there !! She is and always was, a true inspiration.

Pickles

Maybe it's the time of the year, but lately when I think of my Grandma, I think of pickles.  Kind of an odd thing to start my memories of her and telling her how much she means to me, but pickles are on the brain.  She taught me many, many things and one of them is knowing my way around the kitchen and we did a lot of "old fashioned" cooking.  Around this time of the year, it would be the beginning of our canning season.  We didn't grow our own garden, but my grandparents had plenty of friends who did and always had an over abundance of produce.  Pickles were made every year.  Two weeks of many pickle crocks sitting on the back porch to let the cucumbers pickle.  Two weeks to smell the spices and I could never resist taking the cover off and getting a good whiff of the vinegar and spices.  Two weeks of stirring the pickles each day. Then, the canning day.  The kitchen was full of steam from the pots of boiling water.  Lots of boiling water to sterilize the jars and then to seal the tops after we stuffed them full of pickles and juice.  The pickles made the most were bread and butter pickles, but I always preferred dill pickles.  One year, we made dill pickles because I asked for them.  Would it have been easier to go to the store and buy the pickles?  Absolutely.  But, maybe I learned something else while making pickles.  Maybe I learned that the easy way is not always the best way.  Maybe I learned that it takes time and hard work(think mid-summer, no air conditioning and A LOT of steam!) to create something wonderful.  Maybe I learned that accomplishing something with your family is better than an easy quick trip to the store.  All I do know is that I never look at a jar of pickles(store-bought or otherwise) without thinking of my Grandma and those late summer, steamy, spicy days in the kitchen with our pickles.

Why I Am Creating a Blog

I get it now.  I have heard about blogging for a few years and even in my coursework have created a blog for specific classes.  But, I used to think, "What do I have to write about?"  How do all of these people around the world find something to write about that people want to read?  I get it now, they have a passion.  This blog is for my Grandmother, Josephine, or to everyone she comes in contact with, Grandma Jo.  Part therapeutic for me because I am so far from home, but mostly to let her know how she has touched my life and others.  I do not profess to be a great writer, but I wanted a central place that people could go to to let her know how much she means to them even if they are far away.  So, if you have a story you would like to share, email it to me(link below) and I will add it as your own post instead of putting it in the comments.  I hope this becomes what I imagine.

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