She Did It Herself From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Mothers & Daughters By Marsha Henry Goff A woman is like a tea bag — you never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water. ~Eleanor Roosevelt My grandmother was only in her sixties when Grandpa died. She continued to run their junkyard in the small Kansas town of Sabetha, sculpting her biceps with her newly acquired welding and cutting-torch skills, and sorting metals into neat piles. During the Depression and World War II, the A.M. Henry Salvage business had been a major employer that helped the town weather those troubled times. Grams, who had previously handled the bookkeeping, saw no reason to close the business and embraced some of the outdoor work that Grandpa had hired others to do. She was much older when she ceased doing business, but she never quit working. I well remember the summer day that my husband Ray and I, along with our two young sons, drove the ninety miles to Grams' home and found her up on the roof nailing on shingles. She was then in her early eighties, measured five feet tall, and weighed her age. Ignoring her protests, Ray quickly took over the job for her. When she led the boys and me into the house, I noticed her shiny hardwood floors and realized they were newly refinished. "I did it myself," she said matter-of-factly. "Just stripped off the old varnish and brushed on the new. It wasn't that hard." (Keep reading) |
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