I really enjoyed the get-together. There was a lot of laughter, a little sarcasm, some good-natured ribbing, and, as always, great food. We were reminded that strawberries are a luxury, Uncle Kenny wore a 15 year old, flat bill trucker hat (the Kohls men are always ahead of the curve when it comes to fashion), kids scattered around the yard to explore, Delmar gave Linda Matthew (that is what we used to call our other Aunt Linda at my house; Linda Marie was Linda Motorcycle.) a hard time, and the milkhouse still stood unchained. It was a diverse group, and there was a cotton candy machine. Why wouldn't there be?
A year ago, Andrew asked me to write a poem for Grandma. Many people had input, and I revised it as much as any piece I have ever written. I was able to read it in the church that day, and I am thankful for that opportunity. I thought that for Easter Sunday following the Saturday of gathering at the farm, it would be appropriate to share the poem here. So, Happy Easter to all my family and friends.
“Simply Grandma”
April 2013
She’s simple to describe, isn’t she?
White hair, gleaming glasses, short stature.
Weathered face, wrinkled hands, quick smile.
Simple and true.
That is her.
Simply Mom.
A wife who built a house
She never will truly leave.
A mother who saw her family swell
Scattering and returning again and again to her kitchen.
A wonder who reared four boys
And nursed bruises from adventures and brawls.
An example who raised one daughter
Who carries on her spirit and smile.
A chronicler of the purest sort
Weaving tales of parents and grandparents before and sons and daughter to follow..
A rock who stood strong
Unwavering in what she knew was right.
A survivor who quietly marched on
Forgetting more wonders than most get to see.
Simple and true.
Simply Grandma.
A cook who had to oversee every dish,
Never willing to sit until everyone else was full.
A guardian as we slept on the dining room floor
And woke us early for church.
An expert driver who weaved her way to the pond,
A pickup full of grandkids hanging on and laughing.
A baker who could pass on simple treats
And hide zucchini in places never meant for squash.
A prepper before prepping was cool,
With closets of TP and sugar and a basement of sealed jars.
An outfitter prepared for any occasion,
From dress up to sledding to football in the snow.
An artist who fashioned quilt after quilt
That would wrap each of us in warmth no blanket could provide.
A gift giver who treated each of us
With whatever she could that she hoped we might treasure.
The lookout for the train
While picking that sunflower with two smiling faces.
Simple and true.
She is simple to describe, isn’t she?
That simple, white hair
On a head full of memories and simple wisdom.
Those gleaming glasses
Over eyes that captured countless wonders and watched us all.
That short stature
That disguised a giant heart and infinite spirit.
That weathered face
Creased by time, by laughter, by tears, by long life.
Those wrinkled hands
That built a family, created a home, provided treats and treasures.
And that quick smile
That she shared with us all, and is undoubtedly wearing now,
Embarrassed by the fuss, but glowing to see her family together,
Her lips mouthing the comforting words of the Lord’s Prayer,
As she surely makes one more trip back to the farm,
To the house on the hill, where the milkhouse stands unchanged,
And the porch looks out over familiar fields,
Where the front room echoes with laughter,
And the whole house creaks with memories too precious to ever fade,
To the farm, where she created a life and willed it to grow,
Simple and true.
Written by Jason Kohls with inspiration from many
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