Blame Grandma's Bread

When I was a kid, Grandma Gliatti’s house was where the sun and moon rose and never fell. And   top on the list was her homemade bread!  With a braided loaf of Italian bread on the table that you could literally tear into, heaven was there, on the old kitchen table and you didn’t have to die to get there! Thus began my love of bread and butter that has haunted me for years as in I can’t walk away from it! Why ever go out to eat, ever with a cook like her in the house, and on visits to Toledo to see her, we didn't!

It was interesting to learn the origins of bread. 8,000 B.C. in Egypt the first grinding stone was used to crush the first grain. The grinding stone they invented was called a “quern” and the bread was made along the Nile River Valley.  There is an entire evolution to be studied on the development of bread where it grew from those early stages to where it is today and all the various options taken for granted to today’s consumers everything from flatbread, cornbread, whole wheat bread, sesame bread, potato bread and on and on.

I thought, for years, I was alone besides my Italian family in my love of bread until I began working at Berman Printing in Cincinnati, Ohio. That job’s side benefit will always be a wonderful memory.Instead of doughnut runs in the morning, Friday pizza days, this place was my kind of operation!  They opted for “bread days’! Yep, they found a fabulous bread shop in downtown where all breads were homemade.

 

Everyone had to take turns making the runs with the pooled money in the pot. When it was your turn, you drove there and picked up an assortment of bread loaves and butter sticks and voila!  Every Friday we munched on breads and butter!  My word, was it heavenly, we devoured that bread. Friday mornings had the best attendance!

After leaving Berman, any other place I worked at, when I mentioned bread and butter runs, everyone thought I was talking about the bank. When I explained what I meant, I was met with odd stares.  So, back to reality, only Italians and apparently folks in the print world are nuts over bread. 

The bread industrial revolution took place in the beginning of the twentieth century. Prior to that time-frame, the majority of bread was sold in local mom and pop’s bakeries. After the revolution too place, grocery stores got into the game and took over the sales of breads and bakeries took a back seat. With it, bread making become a lost art form since it was so often now mass-produced. Sad too because too often, those of us that experienced the taste of homemade, and remember it know the chain grocery store bread's taste does not remotely compare to the bread of the past.

And yet bread is still contagious even if not as tasty. Healthy or not, I am eating it. Who cares if carbs are bad, so is drinking anything but water.  Grandma lived a long time on her bread and I am banking on the fact I will too. So eat your bread and butter too if you love it and don't listen to the neigh-sayers. We all have our obsessions and yours just happens to be one that has been around since 8,000 B.C.; it's stood the test of time and so will you! 

Grandma Charge

One of the best parts about being a little girl was my grandma, Grandma Gliatti. She was my dad’s mother and was everything a grandma should be! I have to say that all of her grandchildren universally felt exactly the same as me, Grandma G was the bomb! My goal was to one day be that kind of grandma to a little girl if I ever had a granddaughter because she made such a wonderful impression on my life!

When I was a kid, once a month off we would go to Grandma’s house for a weekend. These times were some of the best times of my childhood. Where some kids hated the trips to their grandparents finding them boring, mine were sheer delightful. Grandma Gliatti laughed, cried when you told her a sad story of someone hurting your feelings and gave you undivided attention.  It never mattered to us what she had for us, toys were not a concern at her house, just spending time with her.

Grandma was a cook who spent a lot of time in the kitchen. When she cooked, it was never an issue for us to be in there with her. And sampling her Italian cooking was allowed, in fact, encouraged!  Being a great cook, wow, was that awesome! In that kitchen, I heard stories about her life, Grandpa’s and my dad’s growing up years.  I so loved her story-telling.

When she died, it felt like a little piece of my childhood died within me because she was the sunshine of my childhood, my favorite person in the world. And then, before too long, my son and daughter in law had a daughter!  I found myself in the grandma role!

By this time, I had switched back to my maiden name so I, in fact, was a Grandma Gliatti too, as my grandmother, Josephine Gliatti. History repeated itself sort-of.  And I was overjoyed from the minute I saw her, Ava Glasmeier, and held her. She was a button of joy and smiles!

When I looked at Ava, as she was growing, I felt inside the love my grandma had for me. I put the same passion in being a grandmother in my relationship with my granddaughter so she would feel the same unconditional love. When she came over, I gave her the undivided attention I got from my grandma. I really don’t think a grandma can spoil their grandkids!

When Ava was younger, we baked cookies, cakes, brownies, oh anything we could think of. She learned how to clean because she loved to role play. We did all kinds of things like my Grandma Gliatti did with me. I even talked to her a few times about my grandma so she would know I had a role model to follow, I was not winging it in the grandma role.

The bond between us started very young and still is so strong. We laugh at each other

often and cuddle even at her age now, ten years old.  Her parents foster this special relationship and without their support, our relationship would not exist. For this, I am grateful and I know my Grandma Gliatti is happy and proud. Yes, I feel blessed to have had my Grandma and doubly blessed to have my Ava! 

Grandma's Church is Mine Too

I have been asked many times why I practice Catholicism. The question must stem because I am an independent thinker and there is a conception that being Catholic is rigid in believes which is really not founded in truth.  All churches have foundations but the people that practice their faiths have their own individuality. Mine is grounded in my grandmother’s love of the church and in me.

My Grandma Gliatti, as I called her, was as devoted to the Church as anyone I ever met in my life. She was Italian, coming to the United States after marrying. One of the things she retained is her Roman Catholic faith. That aspect of her life never changed till the day she died.

One weekend a month, my dad would load up the car and off we would go to Toledo, Ohio to head to Point Place to see Grandma and Grandpa.  All of those visits were always welcome trips at a time when many kids hated being away from their friends. My joy was being around my grandma. She was and is the purest form of love to me. 

When Dad would leave us alone with her to go out at night, she would talk to my sister Terri and me about God and her faith. She explained to us about faith and about the Catholic Church, how much she loved it and her devotion to it, from the time she was a little girl. We, at the time, were not practicing Catholics.  My sister was a few years older and remembers the content more than I do but I remember her Catholic prayers at that time.

When Grandma got too sick to go to Mass, she would sit on Sundays in front of the TV and turn on Mass. She would go through the entire Mass reciting all the responsorials as if she was attending. If we interrupted her or were too loud, she would shush us. This was important to her and we all knew it.  It made quite an impression on me and stayed with me. Mass was a must for Grandma.

In my life, no one seemed to love me like Grandma Gliatti. She was the unconditional love person God put in my life. No one had that kind of unconditional regard for me and I believed some of that came from her love and faith in God.  She thought I was loveable for just being me. 

I remembered her faith and chose to raise my children in the Catholic Church. I taught my children the same lessons my grandmother taught me. “No matter what happens to me, God will always be with you and his love is far greater than mine. He will also see that I will be watching over you.”  

I wanted my kids to know that faith mattered, keep the lines open to God I would reinterate. I wanted them to know I unconditionally loved them so told them every night. I even gave them the sign of the cross on their forehead when they were asleep before I went to bed, even when they got older. This was something done to me when I was confirmed in the Catholic church. I wanted God to always bless them and watch over them, part of my Catholic faith.

Now I have stayed with the Catholic Church because every time I attend, I sit in Mass andI  am at home with Grandma. I feel her there with me, smiling knowing I am following the faith she told me was such an integral part of her. I feel God’s love there too. I feel it other places also, like when I’m outside in the yard, or in front of the ocean or in a park,  but in the church is definitely different. Grandma taught me that the cross means that God so loved me that he gave me/us his only son.  She also said that she would always watch over me. I love the feeling in my church because I get a sense she is attending it with me.

I love the ritual of Catholic Mass, the routine where I can depend on a format I can follow just like Grandma did over and over again in her living room. I know what each part means, each has a significance that relates back to faith and Christian growth. I see Grandma smiling all the while.  I am grateful Masses are said in English and much more contemporary, especially the churches I chose to attend, so it is relatable.  We all need to feel we are sitting at a table with friends and not being talked down to when at Church.

So, yes I am open-minded and progressive but I am Catholic and proud of it. I am Grandma Gliatti’s protégé even now.  I will continue to be till I die and she will continue to smile. I will continue to grow and love in faith. May you find the peace and love of God in your heart in whatever works for you! 

A Gift of a Grandma

On a recent trip to Nashville to see my grandchildren, my grandson was asking me to buy him toys. Thus began a talk I wanted to have about my own grandmother. The value of my relationship with her was built on her unconditional love for me.

Grandma Gliatti was born in Italy and moved to America in her twenties.  She and my grandpa were poor. I am sure they lived on pasta and homemade bread for many meals.  She used to tell me stories of hiding under the kitchen table when bill collectors came.

Even when I was a small child, toys were prized, getting any kind of gift or money. And yet, Grandma never had much money so gifts were limited to Christmas and were very small items.. At that time, she bought all of her grandchildren (which were many) a little something each, frequently we all got the same thing.

The delight in getting a gift from Grandma Gliatti was more special because of who it came from than any item. Infact, as good as my memory is of my childhood, I can only recall one gift from her, a Barbie type doll that was Italian so she said!

Her reaction to seeing her grandkids happy was the best gift of all. When Grandma smiled, her face lit up and at times, she would move to tears of joy. How can you put a price tag on a gift like that? 

I was raised by my Grandma’s son, who was the only one of 4 siblings not living  in Toledo, Ohio. Thus my time spent with her was limited to weekend trips to see her and the rest of the family. The drive to Grandma’s didn’t matter; it was too big of a thrill to see her to care. She was worth the boring drive. Her and Grandpa I felt the moon and stars were over their head.

Kindness in a relative is not measured in terms of material possessions but more out of love. Grandma use to sit up late with my sister and me, talking about whatever we wanted to talk about until my father pulled in the driveway. As soon as she saw those headlights, she would yell and laugh telling us to run up to our bed we shared and pretend to be asleep.  We did exactly as we were told, never letting on what Grandma had done.

Looking back, perhaps our parents knew it and chose to not say a word. The late night chats seemed to be as important and special to Grandma as they were to me. Her white powdered cookies she hid in the cabinet from Grandpa would come out and we would sit munching cookies and laughing with her for hours.

Those days gone by, of watching her make her Italian dishes and kneed bread may be over with but in my mind, they never ended. She was an important part of my youth and the realization that what she gave was priceless hits me hard when I look at my own grandchildren.

I asked my grandson what his best memory was of being with me. Not surprising he 

mentioned something he had done with me. I then began rattling off, with my husband, his

Grandpa, a multitude of experiences we have shared with him over the years. The list is endless, baking cookies, attending a Christmas show, playing at the park, swimming in our backyard, reading books before bed at our house, watching him laugh with delight at our Christmas train!

I told him about my grandmother who has gone to heaven. It was important to me that he understand that what I miss about Grandma is not an item I opened or her slipping me a quarter at the store. My memories of all the fun times I laughed with her and she told me how much she loved me is what I remember best and loved the most.

My grandson seemed to understand because he asked me if I miss her much. I told him yes, but that is why I try to be as good of a grandmother to him as she was

to me. When I die, I asked my grandson always remember what we did together and how I made him feel. I then had to ask if he knows how much I love him. When he said yes, I told him than he too, when he grows up, won't remember me for a truck, a bug or a train. Infact, I went on to say I don't want you to remember anything I bought you. I want you only to think of all the laughter we shared and all the wonderful memories of the time we have spent together, just like I do with my Grandma! 

Now I know how grandma felt towards me and how she missed a grandchild when she didn't see them. But, I also know, as she said, we carry them in our heart so they are never truly far away. 

Training Grandma on the Cell

 My granddaughter got all she wanted for Christmas this year,  a cell phone!  She was ecstatic when she saw it, more like in shock! We were blessed to be there this morning to see

her face. And now I am learning much about what it is like to have a 9 year old granddaughter who owns a cell phone….

• Kids raised in honest loving homes become confident children that tell it like it is with those they trust. As my granddaughter sends me occasional selfies, I decided, much as I hate mine, to send her one. Proud of me for actually hitting the button correctly without my son’s coaching, sitting in our car, off it goes without any photo editing. Note with no makeup either. Did I mention no make-up nor much time spent messing with my hair as a trip to Wal-Mart doesn’t necessitate doing that Follow up: “Grandma, what is wrong with you?”  Next message: Grandma, are you okay? 😞😟😭 You look different?”  Next day “ Grandma do you feel better today?” Next time we talk on a live phone call: “Grandma (laughing) what the heck did you do that day to yourself when you sent that picture. 

• Kids inherit the sense of humor of their parents and like to have fun with their siblings at their sibling’s expense.  One day, my granddaughter is talking about her doggie she 
  is loving on. She sends me cute pictures telling me he is not feeling well. 😨🐕 I then get a
  
  picture of her hugging him. Then, I get the picture of her darling brother looking like Chewbacca. 😀😊😎😄 Yes, his head is monster size for the size of his neck, his mouth is as big as a  dinosaur 😈and he looks rather grotesque! Apparently she has learned how to modify pictures and though she can send princess images of herself she prefers to make her little brother look like this!

•   She prefers pictures to long texts.  I don’t get answers back to long questions or get back “What Grandma?”  No way am I retyping it. I am bored rereading it, my own stuff, now that’s bad to even have to admit!  She just wants short stuff anyways.  She even asks me sometimes simply “Send me an emoji back”😍 Okay, my passion for writing is wasted on her. And she tires of my wordiness. But she loves pictures so pictures it is but no selfies, at least of me!  She is realizing now I am getting old in those pictures.  One day those tough questions will come.

• Then I get the occasionally text out of the blue at any time of day or evening “Grandma what are you doing right now?” 💭👂👀 I discovered quickly she didn’t find it that funny to say “Reading your text.”  Sometimes I am doing something I don’t really want to say in a text so just  I make something up!  I just find these texts the best. I think to myself, wow, I am so blessed! She is bored and we’re going to have a long distance conversation and as soon as I exchange a line or two she says “bye, love you”. I am dismissed, like that with an emoji.💓💋 She is  onto another text session with someone else! The life of a nine year old! Grandmas aren’t all that thrilling actually (insert sad emoji here)

• When I visited with her, it was funny to see that she found it easier to talk to me on the cell when I was in the same room than talk. Was that because it was noisy? Nope because as I looked around, everyone else had their cell phones or ipads too. We are a technology savvy family but so little time to talk live anymore its actually sad. I barely talk to my kids anymore, only texts. But, on the plus side, I must admit, living hundreds of miles away from her, these texts from my granddaughter are like the sun rising in the morning!

• A 9 year old has trained a 58 year old to carry her cell phone now to look for pictures to take.  I want to show her exciting things she likes so she feels she is with me. I hate the texts that say “Grandma I miss you” but yet I love them. So I need to share my life with her. So I look for parts of my world that will excite her teach her, and things I think her parents will want her knowing.   She keeps me young and I try to keep her knowing she is beyond loved, treasured no matter where I am.

Amidst a world full of turmoil and hate,

a little girl brings me into a happy state!

With a sound of a tweet,

I jump to my feet.

 I grab my cell

and pound the keys like hell.

Knowing she is waiting a while,

and when she receives it, she’ll smile.

Yeah, that cell phone was a gift. ☝👊😎Was it for her or for me?

Grandma's Sweet Tooth

It never ceases to amaze me how much joy and love I feel inside when I am around my grandchildren. I always thought, when they were born, at some point that pounding in my heart would subside.  The joy I feel when they walk into the room is supposed to become less over time, isn’t it?  

Well it just isn’t happening to me. As they get older, they just hit different stages, just like my own children did and with each stage comes new and exciting moments to share. My love just seems to deepen. I feel so enriched being a part of their lives.  It matters not what I am doing with them. It can be simply reading a child’s book or tucking them into bed and my world is spinning with joy.   When they smile, it makes a cancer battle worth every day of the fight. It makes all the wrongs in the world right.

My friends call me the foreign tourist in my own country. I am the woman with the camera that takes pictures constantly.  When the grandchildren are near, they begin to hide their faces from me. That doesn’t work though.   If necessary, I am known to resort to going under tables to catch those beautiful eyelashes on film or the adorable perky nose of Ava, those gorgeous brown eyes of my grandson Kaleb or any other trait any of the four have.  And the list is a mile long of the traits they have that I adore.

When I talk to friends that have grandchildren I find I am not alone. Grandmas seem to share this common bond. A badly taken photo is still a prized possession. Even what others consider a cranky baby is a feisty sweetheart to us.  A belligerent child to a parent is a competent human being to grandma; this is a child who knows darn well  how to stand up for themselves and will be somebody someday!   Oh, we are full of excuses for our grandkids, something we were always short on with our own kids.   Time does change us, age does too!  

I always have candy in my refrigerator door.  I started giving it to my grandkids when they first learned to use the potty. Gone are those days, over a year ago, but yet the candy remains. They are proud to know where it is housed. And even more fond of opening the door and asking for it, repeatedly.   At first, it was done after creating very slight tinkle streams in order to win favor and get the beloved candy, usually their favorites, Reese cups or Butterfingers.  Now it is just pure twisting me around the pinkie finger and it works every single time.  How can I say no to something so cute?  I have a sweet tooth myself and to me, there is nothing sweeter than my grandchildren.  

I remember when my children were young, taking a trip to the fair was something expected of me. Seeing my children laugh and play on rides and petting animals was fun.  Somehow with the grandchildren is even more delightful in a different kind of way.   There is this freedom to brag, shout out loud my joy and pride in their happiness and scream with delight when they do.  Complete abandonment.   Unlike my own children  these days, my grandkids are not embarrassed by outward shows of affection. 

If my son or daughter caught me running towards them with a bear hug, they would be sorely tempted to run in the other direction or pretend I was a stranger who got loose from the nearest mental ward.   My grand-kids would meet me half way, screaming all the way,”love you Grandma!   Come quickly!” 

What wonderful moments I have shared and will continue to share with my grandchildren!   I know, when the final day comes and I am called to heaven, it will be a beautiful good bye and will only last until I see them again….. (Click on Video below)

The Grandma Mommy Connection

I am astounded my grandchildren are growing up so quickly! I am wondering what my children are feeding them. I am beginning to think it is some kind of aging juice that is the opposite of the fountain of youth, that I still have not found. Just a few days ago, they were slobbering all over me, cooing and allowing me to change their diapers. Infact, they loved laying still while I sang to them.

This weekend, I had both of my older two grandkids, Ava and Kaleb over night. Needless to say, I was quickly reminded just how different the two of them have become, having them together. Gone are the joy of changing diapers, replaced by toilet duties with two children who, once pants are removed for potty duty , prefer, at Grandma’s house, to leave the pants off and go around with naked bottoms to the dog’s delight running through the house to Grandma’s dismay. They screamed with delight at the sound of my voice yelling “Come back here naked bottoms and put your pants on!”

The slobbering has been replaced with repeated requests for drinks, of one sort or another. And of course, each child has their own individual preferences and at no time, did either child want the same drink. Oh, until the other one had it, then the other one, out of pure envy, insisted on having it. Cousin rivalry was much like sibling rivalry. It was funny to sit back and watch it play out. Thankfully they kissed and made up rather quickly, realizing that hurt feelings are no fun.

As far as baby coo sounds, Ava’s coos have been replaced with high shrills sounds that little girls seem to thrive on making. I daresay the sound of her scream literally made our glasses rattle in the cupboards! And Kaleb, being a typical boy, detested her screams and let it be known. He would yell “bad’ and strongly suggest she go in a “time out ‘ to learn to be quiet like him. Ironic and somewhat amusing as he was yelling these words and not being quiet. As he barked out these orders, I wondered if this dawned on him? Children never see their own faults, but then again, do adults either?

There were moments of sheer joy when little baby smiles were replaced with “Grandma, I love you's” that melt the heart. No longer are they babies, but little personalities capable of expressing their feelings in their own words. The three little words, said with no prompting, make the world a better place. And how can a Grandma say no to little ones when hearing this? I know their parents don't agree but I find it excuses just about everything that could possibly do wrong!

We decorated treats and we made crafts and it gave me time to see their individuality and their uniqueness come out. I knew, from research I had done in college, that art and craft work, lowers defense mechanisms. Thus, true personalities and uncensored thoughts come out. As Grandpa and I interacted with both of them, they become so open. They expressed every thought that came to mind, what colors they liked, what they wanted to do, and which color ribbon they wanted on their plate. We let them do exactly what they wanted to do too. It was funny to watch as they kept waiting to put kept in check, to be told no to this color, or to using the glue or to not use so many sprinkles. It was actually funny to see their faces when they realized there was no bars hold on their craft project. Grandpa and I worked with them, guiding them but letting them make their own decisions and we all laughed and had a wonderful time. There was plenty of I love you's in the air during the couse of these projects too. That was the best part!

I almost hated to put the crafts away and as I looked at my husband across the table I could tell he felt the same way. We both knew, this little moment in time, this would pass. One day, we would have them back at our house and they would be into something totally different. No longer would it be Rice Krispie Treats and paper plates to decorate. It would be something more exotic, and the conversation would be more mature. Our Ava and Kaleb would not be giggly, silly little three year olds. That day would come as quickly as the time had passed from their infant
stage to now.

I knew inside, with God’s grace and also with the blessing that they both had of loving parents, that they would continue to be very special children. I would love them just as deeply as I did now and when they were born, no matter what stage of life my two darling grandchildren were. I know that Grandpa and I will always find the greatest joy in sitting back, watching and listening to them. They light up our world. And never ever will “I love you Grandma” get old.

Is that not what mommies live for?

Big Joy in Small Package

The pitter patter of little feet,
And sounds of giggles fill the air,
Is there any sweeter sound
than that of my granddaughter around?

The sun is shining,
It is a gorgeous new day,
The rays of the sun catch her highlights
And look as white as her starch tights.

Ava is in the house,
And never quiet as a mouse.
...Unless she is hiding
Waiting for Grandma to find her.
Then, there is not a stir.
For nothing delights her more,
Even though she hides in the same place as before!

I go thru the motions,
“Oh where has my Ava gone?
I can’t find her!” As I feverishly look
Behind every nook and crook,
For my pretty little girl.

When I open a door
That she is perched behind,
Her face lights up with glee
And her smile is as big as can be.

I am met with sounds of music
As her laughter fills the air
Ah, God knew what he was doing.
When he brought us this little care bear.

And when the sun stops shining,
And the stars fill the sky,
Ava begins to rub her eyes,
This is a sure sign my little darling is tiring
And about to be retiring
To a soft bed, a cuddly blanket and sweet dreams
Of all the next day will bring.