Published: February 11, 2009 05:10 pm      

GESENHUES: Memories with my grandmother

This year’s ice storm brought us an unexpected, but welcomed overnight guest. My grandmother spent the night at our house when she found herself without any electricity or heat. We had not spent the night together in many, many years. I forgot how much fun it was.

Growing up, I stayed at my grandmother’s house every weekend. My mom would take me to her home on Fridays and I would stay through Sunday night. Some Fridays, I got to start the weekend early when mom would take me to my grandmother’s office in downtown Louisville.

My grandmother started her career at Southern Bell Telephone and Telegraph Company. She worked as a switchboard operator when she was a teenager and continued to work for the same company until she retired at age 55. During that time, the company went from being Southern Bell to South Central Bell to Bell South and eventually AT&T. My grandmother was there through it all, holding various positions and working her way up the corporate ladder before the term glass ceiling was something to be shattered.

I have vague memories of my grandmother’s office. She had a typewriter and a phone on her desk. There were pink and green tablets that she would let me write on, and sometimes, I was allowed to type on her typewriter. I’m sure those moments spent sitting at her desk framed my idea of what my work life would be like one day.

My grandmother now lives in Floyd County; but before she retired, her house was in Middletown, Ky., a few miles out from what would eventually be the Blankenbaker Parkway exit off of Interstate 64.

After leaving her downtown office, we would head east on I-64, making our way through the tunnels and past Oxmoor Mall. If needed, we would stop at Ehrler’s for a gallon of ice cream before heading home to watch “Dallas” and then “Falcon Crest.” Friday nights included J.R. Ewing and the president’s ex-wife: “That lady used to be married to Ronald Reagan,” grandma would tell me every time Jane Wyman would show up in a scene on “Falcon Crest.” Saturday nights were “The Love Boat” and “Fantasy Island.”

I can remember her house like I was there last week. The kitchen was filled with avocado-green appliances and there was a small window over the sink to look into the family room. The family room had wood paneled walls with an oversized television console next to the brick fireplace. The rug that covered her family room floor would end up being the same rug that I used in my college dorm room.

Until last week’s storm, I hadn’t thought about my grandmother’s old house in years. Having her stay overnight refreshed all those memories of being tucked in her family room with plenty of ice cream and Aaron Spelling television programming.

While we were fortunate enough to have our power throughout the storm, grandma not having her power was a blessing in disguise for me. I got to fix her dinner and kept the mandatory pot of coffee brewing the entire time she was here. We ate, drank coffee, and stayed up into the wee hours of the night watching television. (Who knew “The Golden Girls” would still be as funny today as when they first premiered years ago during one of my weekend nights with grandma?)

I don’t see my grandmother as often as I used to see her. Compared to staying at her house every weekend for more than 10 years, the times I see her now feel like blips on a radar screen. The ice storm gave me a chance to remember how we used to be with each other, just hanging out.

My grandmother was my first shining example of a working woman. She inspired me and motivated me, always telling me how smart she thought I was and that I could accomplish anything. It wasn’t until she left the next night that I realized I had become exactly the person I wanted to be when I was a 5-year old little girl sitting in her office, typing on her typewriter. I am a working mother, just like my grandmother was.

Amy Gesenhues is a freelance writer who lives in Floyd County. You can read her daily commentaries at www.amywroteit.wordpress.com. E-mail her directly at amy@amywroteit.com.