Twenty years ago...

My grandmother was an amazing woman.

 She was born in 1913 somewhere in Europe. She was of German descent, (but I guess recently we found out she was actually Austrian), and she was born and raised in Hungary. You know, borders were a bit blurry back then with the whole Austro-Hungarian Empire and all that. (Can you tell from these last two sentences that our family is not big on that whole 'tracing the family tree' thing?)

Pictured with my grandfather, uncle and aunt, probably fresh off the boat.

Anyways, she survived the early death of a parent, the Great Depression, two world wars, one during which she inhabited Germany and watched the rise of Hitler. She survived marriages to two abusive husbands, a 7-year stint in a German refugee camp, and an immigrant voyage over to 'the New Country'.

Pictured with my mother in the 1960's.

Yes, all of this is (relatively) true about my grandmother, to the best of my memory.

But, what I want to share about her today, on this, the 20th anniversary of her death, are the things I remember about her in my own life - the memories that were made during the ten short years that I was privileged to know my grandmother, my "Oma".

Me and Oma

Oma - She was the woman who spent countless hours with me in the kitchen, teaching me to make apfelpitter, krumpien paprikash, kipfel, zwetschgenknoedel and tons of other amazingly delicious German/Hungarian foods. 

Oma - She was the woman who taught me all of the frugal quirks that drive my husband crazy today: picking every SCRAP of meat from off a chicken carcass; FREAKING out if any leftover food gets thrown away, EVER; sewing, then resewing, then re-mending holes in clothing, even though my stitches can never compare to her intricate repairs (when I think of the society portrayed in "Brave New World", I can think of nobody more than my Oma who would roll over more violently in her grave at the site).
In fact, Oma was extremely frugal about everything except when it came to giving her money away. I recently found an old checkbook register at my mom's house. My mother remembers that Oma was so excited to open that checking account, and she promptly began writing checks left and right, to charities!! I was dying when I was looking through the register pages, because it was such an excellent portrayal of Oma's generous and caring spirit.

Oma - She was the plump, little elderly German lady, one among a population of many at our little German-American church on Damen Avenue. But SHE was the one who was known to everybody as "Oma". SHE was the one who was always concerned about others, always asking about family members, always cooking delicious meals for people. SHE was the one whose purse always smelled like Jollyranchers because she was incessantly handing them out to the kids at church. To this day, the scent of a watermelon Jollyrancher is still enough to get me teared up, the scent powerfully eliciting memories of my beloved grandmother. 

Pictured with me, my brother and sister after a German Kinderchor Concert

Oma - She was the one who embarassed me as a child, because no matter where we went, she never ceased to hand out Gospel tracts and tell people about her beloved Savior, Jesus Christ. The bus, the dentist office, it didn't really matter. After a difficult life, Oma had found her answer, and she wanted to share it with everyone.

Oma - She was the fiesty, hot-tempered grandma who would sometimes get so exasperated at us kids when we were being naughty. I still want to find somebody fluent in Hungarian so that I can ask them what on earth she was saying when she was throw up her hands in utter exasperation and shout, "Astahkutchafire!!". Poor Oma, I can't believe she was stuck watching me (or my brother for that matter) while my mom worked part-time. She had her hands full for sure.

Pictured with my big sis

Oma - She was an incredible matriarch of my mother's side of the family. She passed on to all of us an immigrant's incredible work ethic, and a sense of pride and patriotism in America - a gratefulness that she got was able to leave the "Old Country" and a deep sense of love and appreciation for this Land of Opportunity. More than that, she passed on to us her spiritual heritage, her deep-seated faith in her blessed Savior Jesus Christ. So often, to this day, when I hear a hymn, I can just picture her belting it out with all her heart in her thick German accent.
This is the one that reminds me most powerfully of Oma. In fact, I made the terrible mistake of having this song played at my wedding, resulting in a blubbering mess of a bride for the remainder of the ceremony. NOT a pretty picture. 

Ok, I guess I recovered by the end.

Oma - She is the woman who makes me deeply regret that those nearest and dearest to me, namely my dear husband, and now my darling son and future children, have never gotten the chance to meet this remarkable woman.

My son did get to go see her grave yesterday for the first time. He, my mother and my aunt went to the cemetery to plant some flowers and shed some tears on the 20th anniversary of Oma's death.

Ok, well I guess this guy wasn't shedding too many tears. And my mother tells me he certainly loved running amongst the grave-stones.

And helping Tante E water the flowers!

And though she never got a chance to meet my husband, I know Oma would have been so proud. Here he is, at age 3, in a pair of German lederhosen (slightly random, since his parents are Canadian-Irish-French without a speck of German ancestry).

Anyways, thanks for reading my musings and memories. I did not want to let this significant day pass without creating some kind of tribute to this woman who will live on so powerfully in the memory of so many people. If you are one of those people who knew and loved Oma, I encourage you to leave a comment or a memory on this post. Let's remember together our beloved Oma, and continue to look forward with anticipation to the day when we will see her again!