Grandma Margaret Clawson

I was thinking about my grandma today--in a couple of days it will be the 2nd anniversary of her death. Her name is Margaret Kerr Lieshman Clawson. She was married and widowed twice. Her second husband, Ray Clawson--my grandfather, passed away in 1972, so she was a widow, for the second time, for a very long time. She would have been 104 in April of that year (2007). She was a teeny-tiny woman who lived in a teeny-tiny trailer in a teeny-tiny town, Charlo, Montana. I believe I copied her history for those of you who would want to know--if not, tell me and I'll pass it along.

My dad's mother died when he was 16, then he lived with relatives in Idaho until he went into the Navy and then on to school in Logan and then married my mom. So, he never lived with Mother Margaret, as all the kids called her. But he loved her just like a mother. We went to Montana every year to visit Grandma and Grandpa, and then even after Grandpa died, we still went to visit. I know that up until she died, my mom and dad still went to see her at least a couple of times a year and they called often. I am proud of my dad for helping to take care of her.

Life for Grandma Margaret was not easy. I remember going to visit--it took all day long. We always arrived in the middle of the night (or so it seemed to me, a sleepy-headed kid), but that was part of the magic of the whole thing--arriving in the dark, setting up beds and not really knowing where you were in the morning when you woke up.

When I was little, Grandma and Grandpa still lived out on the farm. Oh man, that was so wonderful! We got to go to the bathroom in the outhouse, bathe in the washtub in the barn and pump water outside. I'm sure my mother wasn't thrilled with the outhouse, but I remember thinking it was something very special.

I do remember when my dad, and perhaps some of his brothers or brothers-in-law, put a sink in the kitchen with running water. It was still a pump, but inside the house. The sink was a long trough with the pump at one end and a drain at the other. Then a couple of years later, they installed plumbing. Actual running water in the kitchen, and a real bathroom. It was fun to see the "new stuff," but not nearly as much fun as bathing in the barn.

I don't remember a lot about the farm, other than what the house (in my memory) looked like and the barn. I do remember one time when Grandpa showed me how to check the eggs. He held them over a little light to see if a chick was starting to form. We didn't want to eat those. I remember driving down the long dirt road past Charlo to get to the house.

I think I was about 10 years old when Grandma and Grandpa sold the farm and bought their trailer house. I distinctly remember my dad sitting at our kitchen table with a letter in his hand, upset at how small the trailer was. So, we had to go and check it out. Somehow the trailer dimensions written in the letter turned out to be much smaller than the actual trailer. But it certainly wasn't a large trailer, just large enough for two grandparents. Again, I thought that was very cool. There was a little bedroom where Arlene and I got to sleep, in a bed just larger than a twin. I remember a picture hanging on the wall above the side of the bed.

I am picturing a lot of green at Grandma's house. I don't know if she had green carpet or couch or an afghan or what. Maybe the stove or something was green. That horrible olive green was the color of the 70's. Sorry most of you missed it. (We had a lot of green at our house--green shag carpet. My mother liked green. It's taken me until just recently to acknowledge the color green. I don't eat green things--green jelly beans, gumdrops, Dots, green jello or Kool-Aid. Gratefully, the popular shade of green has changed.)

I remember a little bit about the town of Charlo. It had an Indian trading post (which we thought was very cool, but I don't ever remember actually going in there--probably off limits to us kids). Charlo had a general store and a laundromat. It was close to a couple of other little towns--St. Ignatius and Ronan. When I attended Ricks College I met a guy from Montana. I asked him what town he was from, but he insisted that I wouldn't know it because it was very small. Naturally, I persisted, somehow knowing that I would know. He said he was from St. Ignatius! So I said, "Oh right next to Charlo and Ronan!" He was dumbstruck. It turned out that he used to go home teaching with Grandpa Ray. He said Grandpa always insisted on driving, which was scary. One day they were out doing their home teaching, and there was this huge cow standing in the middle of the road. The kid could see the cow, so he kept commenting, boy that's a big cow in the middle of the road, hoping Grandpa would slow down or something. Grandpa didn't really acknowledge what had been said until he got right up to the cow. He slammed on the brakes and yelled, "Wow, did you see that big cow? I almost ran right into it."

I remember Grandpa taking Arlene and me to the general store and buying us play money. In my memory, that happened every time we went to Montana, but probably not. Still, play money makes me think of my Grandpa.

One time Arlene and I were helping Grandma dry the dishes after dinner. As she put the glasses in the cupboard, I noticed on the very top shelf some great glasses that had little African gals on them. I was intrigued, not having seen much of anything like that and they were obviously way cooler than anything we had at home. They were tall and skinny and the little girls were wearing a colored cloth tied around one shoulder and huge gold hoop earrings. So, naturally, I asked Grandma why we didn't ever get to use those glasses. She said, "Oh them with the little black babies on them? They're too hard to dry. You can't get your hands in the d---- things!" Holy cow! I'd never heard anything like that in my whole life, and especially not from my teeny-tiny grandma! I never heard her say anything like that again, but I will never forget it.

My grandma had a special place in her heart for my mother. Mom told me once that when she and my dad were engaged, Dad wanted to take her to Montana to meet Grandpa and Grandma. Grandma later told my mom that she was embarrassed to have my mom come and see her in her little house, but after she met my mom, she was no longer worried to have Mom around. She made a couple of quilt tops for my mother and she was always happy to have her visit. She also liked the fact that my mom pitched in and helped and didn't sit around wanting to be waited on.

A couple of years before she died, Grandma could no longer see well enough to crochet, so she gave bags of yarn and crochet cotton to my mom. Mom gave some to me--mostly teeny-tiny balls of yarn left over from some long-finished project. What was I going to do with all that yarn? So I started crocheting baby blankets and afghans for my grandchildren. Sometimes there is only a row of yarn from Grandma, but I have labeled all the blankets and written which yarn came from Grandma, who will be the baby's great-great-grandmother. At first my kids thought I was nuts, but now they talk about which blankets "their babies" will have. It's been very fun and makes me think of my grandma. I have about three tubs full of blankets and afghans. I think I'm addicted.

So, two years ago on New Year's day, we got the call that Grandma Margaret was gone. Think of the wonderful reunion she had! There were two husbands waiting to see her, two step-children and a couple of her children. Think about how Grandma Veva (my dad's mother) must have greeted her--Margaret took care of her babies for her when she couldn't.

Grandmother Margaret had lived alone for many years, but for the past 2-3 years before her death, she finally sold her home and moved in with her daughter. Her doctor had been telling her for several years before that time that she should move in with someone, and she'd smile and say, "Okay." Then leave the doctor's office and say, "I'll do whatever I want." And she wanted to be in her own home. I know the ward members there in Charlo were very good to her. Grandma didn't drive, so they took her to church and to the store and helped her with everything she needed. When she was turning 99, they decided to have a big birthday party for her, thinking it would probably be the last one. I rode to Montana with my brothers Ron and Lynn for the party--I'm so glad I got to be there. I remember someone asking Grandma where she wanted to have her party the next year; she said, I don't want to be here! Surprise--she was there for four more birthdays.

Grandma Clawson was a mother to my dad's younger sisters when they didn't have a mother. She was grandmother to me and my siblings, as well as to our many cousins. She had two families of kids that I think didn't always get along, so that was very hard. She loved my Dad and his brothers and sisters. I know she loved me. I am grateful for her and her sacrifices, for the life she lived and the love she freely gave.