A Salute to Grandma

A Tribute to Louise Olson, born Louise Vera Gladys Reimer, a Berliner Kehler

Too often we let our lives go by without making proper homage to the ones we love. I am taking this opportunity to share some memories and impressions of a very dear and special person to me – my grandma. Many times I have thanked God for giving me such a remarkable grandmother: she has taught me much, given me much.

My earliest memories of Grandmother begin when I was a young child growing up in southern Manitoba. Grandma and my family both lived on Boyne Street in Morris; being only a short distance away meant that we saw her quite often, sometimes more than once a day. There were also many days and nights when she hosted us youngsters. A typical evening at her house entailed strawberry flavoured milk, treats galore, a couple of hours just horsing around (sometimes even atop the roof), and supper: maybe Sloppy Joes, maybe Kraft Dinner, or maybe a T.V. Dinner – delicious, considering the things we ate at home: boiled dandelion greens, lentils, and the infamous Favva, thick split pea puree. The food Grandma dished up in retrospect seems rather unhealthy; but healthy was not the point: she wanted to treat us.

These treating days continued even after we moved to Ontario, and later Nova Scotia. Mom and Dad would cook Greek food – which apparently by virtue of being Greek is ‘healthful’ and ‘life-enhancing’ – even when Grandma was visiting. Thus, in order for her to treat us a family excursion had to take place: a trip to the local McDonalds. This became a delicious ritual. We looked forward to her visits for more than Cheeseburger Happy Meals and Supersized Fries. The best moments consisted of snuggling sessions. Snuggling was one of Grandma’s specialties.

Some of my happiest moments as a child were staying over at grandmas. She loved to draw bubble baths for Miltos, Ted, and I. Grandma would personally shampoo, blow-dry, and comb our hair; she was so pleased to discover our locks squeaky-clean and shiny. We would have milk and cookies before bed; as we got older she served tea. We watched Grandma get the fresh-smelling linens to make our bed. She wanted us to be comfortable – and we always were. My favourite was sleeping over on Saturday nights because I would help her prepare the Sunday Roast of aniseed dredged chicken. The roaster, which was filled with carrots, potatoes, and chicken pieces rolled in Shake N’ Bake and covered in aniseeds, would bake in the oven while we were at church. The aroma upon arrival for lunch was incredible. The lunch was extra special when followed by her splendid Saskatoon berry mouse.

Holidays with Grandma were convivial. We children would run around and play while she was getting the food ready. The menu was the same for Thanksgiving and Christmas: crispy skin and moist meat roast turkey, butter-laden mashed potatoes with gorgeous gravy, her famous mouth-watering sage stuffing, wild rice and crab casserole, creamed corn, jellied salad, and fresh buns. Our glasses were always filled with punch made from Five Alive and 7-Up. We observed the tradition of singing grace with hands held. It was ritual after the holiday dinner to collapse on the floor from pain associated with eating too much. The pain was worth it. Grandma made it a tradition at Christmas to give us Santa Sacks filled with practical and not-so-practical things: toothbrushes, mouthwash, socks, bubblegum, candy canes, toys, and so on. I still have my original Santa Sack; I plan on keeping this tradition alive.

A pleasure it was indeed to have spent summer trips at her place in Rosenort. These trips afforded me the feeling of being “home,” since by that time we had moved east. Those lazy days of summer are very memorable. Grandma and I would pick a few tomatoes from her small garden plot, slice some bread, and eat “Sloppy Tomato Sandwiches” – sloppy because of the slathered mayo. We would eat this simple lunch in the sun on the deck. The sky was always so blue, the air warm, and Iced Tea offered refreshment. The best part of these days was the plain fact that Grandma and I were together. Very often we ate in the common dining room with some good old fashioned Holdeman cooking. A salad made with vanilla pudding, miniature marshmallows, and canned mandarin oranges served with baked ham is a perfectly balanced meal; well, at least to a Holdeman. Nevertheless, these dining occasions were great fun because we were together. When it came to food, her generosity was immeasurable. She stocked her cupboards full. I remember how my shear gluttony delighted Grandma to no end; she loved to see me eat. Some days we would eat out at such places as Maximes in Winnipeg or Truckers Paradise in Morris. We often talked about her restaurant-running days while waiting for our order. I wondered what it would have been like to experience the Rosenort Grill in the days when Grandma was cooking up a storm. I have a sense through the reminiscing of others. Umpteen times have I heard about the glorious all-beef hamburgers she broiled and served. It is a pity I am unable to go back in time.

There are many things that I admire about my grandma. She puts to action the words of an American maxim, “To do and bear all is the duty of life.” These words have always struck me as being true and profound. Doubtless this saying resonates with me because I have a shining example in the person of my grandmother who has lived truly and profoundly. There is a sense of awe when I imagine the long cumbersome hours she endured in trying to support her family: being a hostess, waitress, cook, dishwasher, cashier, and bookkeeper all at once is no easy feat. I marvel at how she endured so many hardships in her life: having to become a child mom to a large family upon the premature death of her mother, left destitute with three young children by a heartless husband, becoming an untiring and vigorous entrepreneur at a time when the domain of a woman was her home, raising a family single-handedly, care-taking selflessly for everyone but herself (most notably the Parkinsons-stricken Grandpa Olson, her second love), and enduring the vicissitudes of ill health for many years. What a role-model! From the example of her life I take this: work hard, never complain, be positive, forget self and love others, and put up a fight to the end. I hope to be able to live up to the personal blessing she gave me:

Live a life honouring to God, live a life that will make the world a better place, and live a Christ-filled life.

To conclude, I consider it a great privilege to be the grandson of Louise Olson. I am humbled yet resolute to hold her as a role model. I am obliged to have shared so many wonderful life experiences with such an important person. Thanks be to God for affording me the joys and honour of being her descendant. May God grant us to be together in Heaven. Amen.