Cheers to You, Grandma Evelyn!

Me and Grandma Evelyn, November 2017

The call came a little after 8 am this morning, August 5, 2018. 

While my husband and my parents and I were sitting on a screened-in porch in Hilton Head, enjoying the dawn of the first day of our vacation, we received news that my Grandma Evelyn Carpenter passed away this morning.

You’d think it’s not a great way to start a vacation. I, however, choose to take the time off this week to celebrate and remember her and the remarkable life she led.

In some ways she was not your typical grandmother. Warm and fuzzy she was not. Not by any means. Not so generous with the hugs and kisses, either. But friendly, yes. In fact, she could talk your ear off. I remember she would come to visit me when I was a child and if she happened to strum up a conversation with a cashier at a grocery store, or even a casual stranger, I knew I would be standing there for the long haul.

Part of her friendly demeanor probably stemmed from the fact that she was a well-known businesswoman in her small town. She owned and operated the town diner for many years while my dad was growing up, and then when she left the restaurant business she owned the local “cut-rate,” sort of a general store that sold a little bit of everything. It did a fairly brisk business, as Grandma and Grandpa’s store was the only one in town with a liquor license.

As a young child, I benefited greatly from this store, as I received comic books galore. When Grandma returned unsold issues, all she would have to do was send back the front cover of each magazine and pitch the rest. But did she do that? Of course not! After all, she had grandchildren! All the Little Dot, Little Lotta, Richie Rich, Archie and superhero comics I wanted (my brother was more into the superhero stuff). We always looked forward to Grandma and Grandpa’s visits because we knew they’d be loaded with comics.

As a teenager, during my visits to Michigan, I would actually go to work with my grandmother and help her out in the store. I remember the old-timey cash register she had. You don’t see those anymore.

But then Grandma and Grandpa sold the store and retired full time to the lake. The lake – Little Whitefish Lake. For me and my brother, that was vacation paradise. There were bikes, fishing poles (and fish loaded in the lake!), and a big old pontoon boat. Every day during our summer visits, my brother and I would go bicycling to the other side of the lake. Sometimes we’d bicycle the seven or eight miles to Sand Lake and back. Lots of lake fun!

There’s no doubt, Grandma supplied me some nice childhood summer memories. Even if she wasn’t always generous with the compliments.

It didn’t matter though, because with her, it wasn't about the words, but the actions. I knew what a good woman she was. She wasn’t an emotional woman, but a very generous one. I’ve heard stories about all the foster children she took in. Or maybe just friends or cousins that needed a place to stay for a day, a week, or a couple of years.


I've heard the stories about how she nursed my grandfather back to health when he came back from WWII with a bad bout of malaria. And I saw with my own eyes how well she took care of him during his 10-year battle with Alzheimer's disease.

I’ve heard stories of the hobos she used to feed when she owned the restaurant, nourishing them after close of business with what was left over from the day.

I've heard stories about how she helped build the VFW hall in Sand Lake, Michigan and worked tirelessly for the VFW auxiliary for more than 60 years -- a truly patriotic thing to do.

Over the last 20+ years, I have seen her tend to her busy schedule, as she worked at least three days a week. "Work" being volunteering at the Grand Rapids Home for Veterans, where in total she had logged more than 10,000 volunteer hours.

I’ve experienced her generosity myself when one year when I was poor as Job’s turkeys and I found myself owing $300 to the IRS. I complained to her about it and she offered to loan me the money. I declined, telling her I would find the money somehow, but I appreciated the offer.

Or even more substantial, when after having both my second and third babies, she flew down to Kentucky and stayed with me for a week each time to help take care of me and the kids. Plus she did all the cooking. I loved her beef stew and homemade noodles!

She was a busy lady. During the last few years I would laugh when she would complain about how crappy she feels. She would say you can feel crappy and do nothing, or feel crappy and do something. More often than not, she chose to do something.

Incidentally, I noticed that as she got older (and I got older too), the hugs became tighter, the “I love yous” became more frequent, and I developed a genuine admiration for her. I think things like that matter more when you get older.

I last saw her when I went up to visit her last November. It was a nice visit. We went out for lunch, then went back to the Home for Veterans and spent a few hours just chewing the fat. When it came time to leave, I hated to, but I gave her a big hug, told her I loved her and that I would be back to see her. I was hoping that was going to happen before then end of this year. I so regret that it didn't happen. I had no idea that last November would be the last time I would see her.

I recall another visit prior to the one last November. In April 2015 I felt this urge to go see her, which I did, and it was a wonderful visit. I asked if I could interview her, which she allowed. I recorded it, though I don’t have the recording at my fingertips just now. But there were a few things that we talked about that stood out.

First, she was proud of her independence. At the time she was 94 and still living by herself and driving (though I’m not sure that was a good thing). Anyway, she had always prided herself on her independence and staying that way, even 20 years after my grandfather passed. Unfortunately, several weeks after this conversation she had an episode that resulted in the permanent loss of her independence – a situation she absolutely detested. But while physically she was beat down, she never had a hint of dementia and was always sharp as a tack (other than being in a state of denial about the fact she was 97 when she would rather be 50). Up until almost the day she died, she spent every day reading her newspaper and watching CNN.

Second, she expressed that she was ready to meet her Maker at any time. The sooner the better. She had no reservations at all about dying. Most of her contemporaries had already gone before her, and she welcomed when that day would finally come.

Finally, when I asked her what she was most proud of in her life, she said it was her children – that she recognized that my dad and my aunt had both turned out to be such good people. It wouldn’t surprise me if she never told them that. As I said, she was never generous with the compliments. But it’s not that she didn’t feel love and compassion for those closest to her.

The last three years were very hard for her. Admittedly, she wasn’t always in the greatest mood because of her own frustrations about losing her independence and probably just wondering why it was taking so long to “cross over.”  But those three years represent but a fraction of her life.

She was a spunky lady with a fiery spirit. In some ways, we have all gained something from her and as such we are better people.

So as I embark on my Hilton Head vacation, I will toast to you, Grandma. (I know you would appreciate that, since you were known to have a glass or two of wine yourself.) I will toast you for your spirit, your spunk, your lifelong generosity, your admirable work ethic, and that really good pot roast you used to make.

Rest in peace, Grandma. And cheers!