Grandma and Grandpa's House: Shocked and Terrified

After our haunted house experience, which we deemed an overall success, we decided to go to a professional haunted house. It was on a farm. You waited in line to get on a haunted hay ride that drove you to the haunted house. Grandma, Grandpa, Sarah, Kristi and I all piled up on the wagon. It was my first haunted house experience and I was freaked out when the wagon started moving. Kristi was on my left and Sarah was on my right. We passed by gory stages of crazy surgeons and killers on the loose. We saw ghosts and demons running alongside the wagon. I was so scared that I thought I was going pass out, but I was too proud to admit that I couldn't handle the haunted house scene. I started feeling queasy just as someone with a chainsaw jumped on the wagon. He started to saw parts of the benches that we were sitting on. It was too much; so, I quickly turned to Kristi, feigning concern for her when I was the one that needed help. I spent the rest of the ride looking at her and trying to tune out the scary stuff going on around me. As soon as it was over, I jumped off and refused to go into the haunted house with Grandma and Sarah. I waited outside with Kristi and Grandpa, drinking hot chocolate and trying to calm my nerves while they went through. Apparently, Grandma laughed and clapped through the whole thing. At the end, when a man started chasing them, Sarah took off and left her. I can just imagine Grandma slowly walking away from him, giggling all the way.

Grandma loved feeding people. We would often have church members come over for dinner. We would often run out of room on her small kitchen table. So, after she served one dish, she would remove it from the table and bring another over. One time, she hurriedly brought one of the salads and realized that she had forgotten the tongs; so, she grabbed it with her hands and dumped it on each plate while muttering, "My hands are clean. My hands are clean."

One night, we had Don over for dinner. He and Mom had been dating for a little while. Grandma made chicken. While she was serving, she asked, "Do you like breast, Don?"

Grandma didn't have many clothes and what she did have was raggedy and stained. Mom said that she would sometimes be embarrassed by Grandma's stained outfits but that she later realized that Grandma didn't have clothes because she spent her money on them. She spent her money on their music lessons, riding lessons, ice skating lessons etc. Grandma often wore a Mickey Mouse sweater with two large stains, one on the sleeve and one on the stomach. I think Mom has that sweater now.

Grandpa's driving was terrifying. I often prayed for safety as I sat in the front seat of his white Lincoln. One day, he turned to me and asked if I wanted to drive. He took me to an abandoned parking lot and switched spots with me. It was the first time I got behind the wheel and it was our secret. I got to drive back and forth in the parking lot for half an hour or so. He would have me practice accelerating and slowing down. We practiced parking. I loved it.

I used to read Frances the Badger books. They were about a naughty little badger who would often get herself into trouble. She had tea parties and picnics and ate boiled eggs out of egg cups. Grandma made this a reality for me. She hosted a tea party for me; I got to invite some of my friends over. We ate cucumber sandwiches and drink out of tea cups. She took us on a picnic in a beautiful field. She also bought some special egg cups so that I could put my boiled eggs in them. She gave us little spoons to crack them with. It was fun, experiencing new things with Grandma. We read Hank the Cowdog books. Grandma also bought some of the tapes so that we could listen to it while we drove. We also loved reading George and Martha books about two silly hippos who experience new things together and play tricks on each other.

We got used to Grandma and Grandpa's house rules. They were strict, but so was Mom; so, it wasn't a huge adjustment for us. Grandma was put in charge of a primary class at church and she was having a hard time keeping the kids in line. I had heard her discuss this problem with Grandpa a few weeks in a row. She had started talking about it with Sarah and I, asking what our teachers had done when we were in primary. I went to the bathroom as they talked in length about it. As I came back, I didn't know that they had switched to a different subject. They were talking about a fun activity Grandma could do with her class. She was going to simulate 'holding to the iron rod' and wanted the kids to hold onto pieces of string with blindfolds over their eyes. She wanted to have people whisper to them, both good and bad spirits, either encouraging them to hold on or telling them to let go. When I came back into the room, Grandma and Sarah were talking about what the evil spirits could say to them. I sat down and, still thinking that they were talking about punishing the primary students, heard Grandma harshly whisper, "We can just say, 'God doesn't love you! Just give up! Give up!' " I was stunned! Grandma was strict, but she had never whispered that to me when I was naughty. I suddenly felt really bad for the troublesome children but was scared to say anything, worried that Grandma would say something similar to me if I objected. I was especially shocked because Sarah was nodding with Grandma, both looking excited to say such things. Thankfully, as they kept talking, I realized my mistake and explained to them how bothered I had been. Grandma laughed hard. We sat around the table crying and laughing for a long time.

Grandma and Grandpa's House: Acceptance

I slowly got used to life in Minnesota. Even though I missed the mountains, I grew accustomed to the tall water towers in every city. I got used to the Minnesotan lingo and even started using some of the phrases we used to mock. I stopped hoping for snow days; Minnesotans are not phased by massive amounts of snow. I wore socks to bed and bundled up for school for months on end, including some summer months. There were really only two seasons in Minnesota: winter and road construction. I learned about wading/kiddie pools. I learned about the importance of hockey and hunting. I learned that tractors are usually the reason for traffic jams. I started to appreciate how beautiful Minnesota is, with the many lakes and endless farms. Everything was lush and green, so different from Utah.

I got used to being away from Dad, JD, and Esther. Es was attending college in Rexburg, Idaho and working part-time. She was busy but happy. JD was living with Dad in Orem, Utah. I have little memory of life pre-separation and thankfully, my Minnesota life wasn't as consumed with post-separation war as it had been when we lived in Santaquin, UT. Dad was hard to talk to, making it easier for me to accept how little he called. His calls always revolved around talking about how Mom didn't really love me, how much he was hurting, how my rightful home was with him and JD, and how she would burn in hell for destroying us. I would like to say that it was shocking that he so readily said these things, but it wasn't. He was so different than what I remembered. Sometimes, I would dust off my old memories and replay them, memories of him coming home and kissing Mom before dinner. Memories of waking up early to watch cartoons and say goodbye to him as he left for work. Memories of him teaching me how to weed and plant my little garden. Memories of him making fresh tea with the peppermint from our yard. Memories of sitting on his lap in church. Memories of seeing his car on our road and holding onto his handles as he drove up the driveway. Memories of late night snacks that he would share with all of us. Memories of a seemingly happy home with two happy parents.

After they separated, my friend taught me that my wish would come true if I made it at 11:11. I spent the day running around the old Santaquin house, counting all of the clocks. I also counted the ones in our cars. I counted a total of 10 clocks and so, I made this wish:

I wish my parents were back together. I wish my parents were back together. I wish my parents were back together. I wish my parents were back together. I wish my parents were back together. I wish my parents were back together. I wish my parents were back together. I wish my parents were back together. I wish my parents were back together. I wish my parents were back together. 

I later revised it to:

I wish my parents were back together times 10. 

10 years later, I caught myself saying it in my head while in a college class. It shocked me to realize that my wish had become habitual.

Our yearly summer visits to Utah were rough. To be fair, it must have been extremely difficult for Dad. He wasn't Dad anymore, but an entertainer. We didn't have a routine with him anymore and we no longer lived near our old friends. When visited him in his two bedroom apartment, we quickly realized how little we had spent with him when they were married. His work schedule took him away from us for hours at a time and we suffocated in the hot confinement of his apartment. We hated it and so did he. JD wasn't really there. He was physically there, but he rarely spoke and never left his room. He played computer games late at night, all night and then he slept all day. He always looked the same, unhealthily thin and pale with gray circles under his eyes. Every now and then, he would open his door and talk to us. It was always the highlight of the summer, talking to him, hearing him. He was so angry and unhappy. I think that anger is what kept him alive, helped him survive those depressing years. This new and unhappy Jeremiah overtook my memories of him. I couldn't remember what he was like before all of this happened.

Esther would come to visit us in Utah and in Minnesota. I didn't realize until I was older that she was forced to be an adult at a very young age. She always had a job and took care of herself. I think she knew that she had to; she didn't have a choice. She was the cool older sister and I quickly loved everything that she loved. It seemed like she always had a new hair color every time I saw her. She bought me my first CD, a Dido CD. I listened to it on repeat. She took me on a sister date; we went shopping and ate at Los Hermanos. I still have the blue sweater that she bought for me on that date. I remember watching her clean the downstairs bathroom of our Santaquin house. She had been trying to record Torn by Natalie Imbruglia on one of her tapes but had only gotten a partial recording. I remember hearing her cheer, because she finally caught it in time and recorded the whole song.

Santaquin became a memory. It wasn't home anymore but a past life. I stopped writing letters to my friends, stopped visiting them when I was in Utah. I stopped praying that everything could go back to the way it was. I looked forward to coming back to Grandma and Grandpa. I had moved on and loved my home in Minnesota.

Grandma and Grandpa's House: Silliness and Young Love

Grandma's dry-heaving was sadly entertaining. We had heard the stories of how our uncles would tease her, making her gag. There was usually a booger involved or talk of one. Grandma couldn't handle that subject. Just the mention of one was Grandma's nightmare. She would immediately start to retch. Now, to describe Grandma's retching...It was much more than you would imagine. She would not only make the sound and movement of vomiting, but her whole body would be taken over by it, repeatedly jerking forward and upward. And while she was doing this 'vomit dance', she would start whooping. I have no idea why she whooped. She just did. Her whooping would start to come out faster, louder, and higher.

My first experience with this was when we were eating hamburgers for dinner. They were delicious; so, Grandma asked Grandpa where he bought the meat from.

"I got them from the booger shop," replied Grandpa, giggling.

"Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!!! Dennis! Whoop! You know better!! Whoop! Whoop!"

It was amazing how quickly Grandma's brain would shut off when she got tired. Her bedtime was at 8:00 PM. By 8:03 PM, she couldn't speak without stuttering on words or completely saying the wrong thing. One night, when we were getting ready for bed, she tried to quiet us down so that she could read us our nightly story.

"Girls! You need to be quiet before I can fart the....I mean start the story!"

We burst out laughing and she tried to battle against it, but she couldn't. She started to smile, her eyes wrinkling in the corners, and then giggle and then we were all crying from laughing so hard. We howled and groaned as we held our sore stomachs. We would find out later that she also told one of her students to, 'fart here'. Though she kept a straight face and didn't laugh then, she randomly laughed in the middle of her very next lesson while thinking about her previous blunder.

Grandma knew everything. She was this book that you could open and read. She knew something about every subject. She was also full of ideas and dreams. I loved reading her. She was there for my first church talk and my second and third. She was there for my school presentations and speeches. If she didn't know much about a subject, she would spend the day researching and learning. She would then come back, show me all of her sources, and teach me.

Grandma loved romance. She loved reading about it and watching it in movies. Grandma rarely let me see her room. It was crowded, piles and shelves of books, binders, and papers everywhere. Her room looked like something you would see in an episode of Hoarders. I don't know how she slept in there, because I couldn't even breathe. She had music everywhere and papers with her scribbles. She wrote notes on everything. There were receipts with her notes on them, notes about students, music, and religious topics. And then, smack in the middle of this mess was her bed. She dusted off the top of one of her shelves and handed me some books. One said, Harlequin Romance, at the top and then the title: A Girl Named Rose. This was the first of many Harlequin Romance books that I read. I almost always read Betty Neels' books, because Grandma and I preferred her writing. Hers was more old-fashioned, the kind where they finally kiss at the end after they get engaged. Betty Neels had a very similar story for each of her books. There was almost always a plain and quiet nurse who worked for a handsome but intimidating and sometimes rude Dutch doctor. They were always Dutch. They often had long and complicated names that I couldn't pronounce: Sybren Werdmer Ter Sane, Fulk Van Hensum, Coenraad Van Essen, and Gerard Van Doorninck. I loved them despite their simple layout and I read them often.

She showed me her movie collection. She had boxes full of tapes that she had recorded them on. Each movie had multiple movie titles scribbled on the front. She had hundreds and could describe them in detail when I would ask what a certain one was about. I fell in love. I loved the classic romances of the 1920's-1960's. I fell in love with Jimmy Stewart, Lawrence Olivier, Cary Grant, Gregory Peck, Fred Astaire, Rock Hudson, and James Dean. We suffered through Gene Kelly's bad acting to witness his perfect dancing. We sang alongside Judy Garland and pretended to dance like Ann Miller. We wanted the comic timing of Doris Day and the witty attitude of Katharine Hepburn. We loved watching Vivien Leigh, Maureen O'Hara, Greer Garson, Olivia de Havilland, Jean Arthur, Joan Fontaine, Cyd Charisse, Grace Kelly, Audrey Hepburn, Elizabeth Taylor, and Jane Powell on the screen of Grandma's small TV.

We memorized their songs and lines. She watched me as I practiced walking gracefully. We had tea parties where we talked like ladies. It was so fun! Some of our favorite movies to watch: The Harvey Girls, His Girl Friday, Seven Brides For Seven Brothers, Meet Me In St. Louis, Gone With The Wind, Singin' In The Rain, An Affair to Remember, The Pirate, That Hagen Girl, Gigi, Pillow Talk, The African Queen, Roman Holiday, To Catch a Thief, How to Steal a Million, The Philadelphia Story, The Quiet Man, Easter Parade, You Can't Take It With You, How to Marry a Millionaire, Brigadoon, The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer, Some Like It Hot, Charade...

My two favorites that Grandma showed me have to be Tammy and the Bachelor and Margie. They're both similar, sweet and funny. Tammy is about a simple and naive girl (Debbie Reynolds) who falls in love with a refined man who doesn't notice her at first. Margie is about a bright but odd high school girl (Jeanne Crain) who has a crush on her French teacher and one of her popular peers. She also has constant trouble with her pantaloons. I loved watching these two with Grandma. We would giggle and re-watch scenes just to giggle some more.

Grandma and Grandpa's House: Batty

We dubbed our new house, The Bat House. One day, when we came home from a trip, we found a bat in our family room. It was hanging from one of Mom's curtains. Three girls and a bat is not a good combination. It's a horrible combo! We were frantic. I was beyond terrified and took Kristi upstairs to hide while Mom and Sarah figured out a game plan. We knew that they had attempted something when we heard the screaming. Loud bangs and deafening shrills came from below. The vacuum was being used. I heard cloth rip and more screaming, and even some flapping. And then, a sickening crunch. I ran downstairs just in time to see half of a bat sticking out of the vacuum tube before the rest of it was swallowed. I guess Mom had taken out the vacuum and figured she would vacuum it up. You're hoping that she gets it at the butt and that it slides down the tube. But no, Mom got the bat in the middle of its back! Imagine a vacuum tube in the middle of the spine, the body unwilling to be sucked down. And then, all of a sudden you hear this atrocious snap and the bat gets sucked into the tube. It literally folded into itself and flew down the tube.

Earlier that year, we had a bat in Grandma and Grandpa's house. I was brushing my teeth, getting ready for bed, when Sarah and Kristi started screaming from the peach room we stayed in. There was a bat circling the inside of our room. It was terrifying, especially because we didn't realize that there were bats in Minnesota. I was scared that it would bite me and suck my blood. I had only seen them in movies, the vampire ones. We yelled for Grandpa, sure that he would have some intense, massive weapon to protect us with. He nonchalantly walked up the stairs to us, a tennis racket in his hand. He quietly walked into the room, apparently unaware of the deathly creature that enveloped it. Without a word, he stood in one corner and lifted the racket above his head. We stared, eyes wide. The bat circled a few more times and then flew right into the racket and dropped to the ground! It was a miracle! He then put it on the racket and took it outside.

Our cousins, Alex and Ivy, came to visit us. It was Halloween and we wanted to put together a haunted house. It was going to be easy, because Grandma and Grandpa's house didn't need any changes to make it seem haunted. We didn't need to make cobwebs or add dust. We didn't need to make it look old or install flickering lights or squeaky doors. We made the parents and grandparents wait outside while we put everything together. It was decided that Alex would walk them through the music room and I would be at the piano, playing some scary music as he introduced his vampire self. The only scary tune I knew was the theme to Jaws. We cut a hole into the top of a cardboard box. Sarah jumped in and stuck her head out. We put potatoes around her head and found one of Grandma's silver platter lids. We were going to serve them her head. She would stare with an apple in her mouth. We peeled grapes and put them into a bowl for them to feel. At different times, we would take turns jumping out at them as they walked through. Mom and Aunt Barbara went through. They loved it and even acted scared for us. Then it was Grandma and Grandpa. Everything was going well; Sarah, who had the hardest job of holding still and looking dead, was giving an amazing performance. But, when Grandma came through, it all changed. Grandma started clapping after we scared her. She wanted to congratulate us on doing a good job. She squealed loudly, shrieked when we jumped out at her. Her yell came out in a huge, "Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!" Then, it was Sarah's time to put on a show. We lifted the lid for the grand reveal and after a few 'whoops', Grandma burst out laughing. She was so excited and happy and told Sarah that she was doing a good job between laughs. Sarah tried to hold on, but she couldn't and spat out her apple to laugh.

"Grandma! You're not supposed to laugh!"

After a successful night of scaring people, Alex and I sat at the top of the stairs. The house was dimly light, dark except for the front porch light. We were talking about what we wanted to do for next year's Halloween when something flew over us. You could feel the air move. I knew immediately that it was a bat and I whispered to Alex that we should get out, explaining that there was a bat. He didn't believe me.

"No, Lei! It's a large moth. That's all it is!"

It was the perfect end to our Halloween night.