Adam

This is a tribute to my Grandma Clark, who will be long remembered.  Grandma played many roles in this life and wore many hats well.  I remember her as an affectionate sister, a dedicated mother, a lovingly biased grandmother, a bleacher fixture, and an adoring wife.  

Grandma was a big part of my childhood. She showed up to so many of my ball games (hundreds, easily) that friends would ask about her if she missed one.  I fondly recall being banished to the basement in Garrett with my brothers until we had completed the assignment of watching Bedknobs and Broomsticks followed by The Grinch followed by at least 3 episodes of Lil Rascals (or 4 Laurel and Hardy episodes).  Then, and only then, could we climb up the steep shag-carpeted stairs to check whether our dinner of corn casserole, beanie weenies, jello with suspended fruit, baked beans with bacon on top, and of course applesauce was ready. And most of all I remember the exhilarating trips to the lake cottage for high speed boating, Grandma’s story-telling, cookouts, sparklers, and general horseplay.  The cottage was always the highlight of the summer.  

Even when she wasn’t around, Grandma was thinking about her grandchildren.  To help equip us for our long car rides, Grandma would send along such travel gifts as paper grocery bags full of pre-read comic strips, cookies individually wrapped in plastic, and audio recordings on cassette tape of her own voice reading children’s stories aloud, complete with her various character voices, numerous throat clearings, and giggles.  (Uncle Wiggly’s Adventures is the one that sticks with me).  

Grandma could be as stubborn as a mule - she changed her opinion about as often as her hairstyle - and she was absolutely convinced that she had the most gifted, best behaved, uniquely talented grandchildren in the world.  She could literally not understand why any of her grandchildren would ever spend time on the bench during a ballgame or why they weren’t cast as the lead in the school play.  And it was anyone’s guess as to the politics behind Jeff not being offered a full ride scholarship to play basketball for Duke and why Corey isn’t a famous recording star.

Grandma especially loved babies.  I often wondered what thoughts were running through her head as she held a new life in her arms; silently bonding with them.  The many pictures that show a tear in her eye suggest she was likely reminiscing about her own 6 babies she rocked so many years ago.

But as good a mother and grandmother as she was, she was an even better wife.  I’ll never forget the first time I saw my Grandma and Grandpa Clark kiss on the lips.  The image is forever burned into my head.   At first I thought it struck me as unusual because they were both so old.  But over time I came to realize what made it unusual was the uncommon love they share.  An undying love cultivated over time; crafted by pain and loss; bent by times of plenty and times of want; shaped by the sharing of countless memories, inside jokes, car trips, and giggles.  And did Grandma ever adore Grandpa.  Grandma told me on several occasions, “The truth is there are a lot of good mothers in this world, but a good father is very rare.  Earl is as good a father as I’ve ever seen.” In the last few years, Grandma’s body began to fail, but her cross-stitching never did.   Though it took her a little longer to climb down the bleachers, she kept showing up to the gym.  And though music was her passion, Grandma lost her ability to sing years ago.  It takes all my strength to hold back tears as I picture her now, in Heaven, rocking her babies, singing to Jesus, waiting on Grandpa.