What were your Grandpa and Grandma Bunning like?
The year was 1959 and my Grandparents lived about a mile and half from my house in Ottawa County, Oak Harbor, Ohio. My Grandparents had a farm of about 160 acres and in the early 50’s had a Dairy Farm with about 20 Holstein cows. I find it interesting now that I am a Grandpa, with 11 Grandchildren (my number) that back then when I was a kid, we always referred to our Grandparents as Grandpa and Grandma, a name I always thought sounded so sophisticated and I still do. No one ever asked what I would like to be called by my grandchildren. My title changed, depending on the family. I am referred to as Papa, Peepaw, Papa Mike and by one Grandchild as Grandpa.
Thelma Joy Brunkhorst 1898-1965
My Grandparents were exceptional by all measures. They were of German descent and they embodied everything that entails. They both were second generation migrants whose parents spoke German. Most of our neighbors were also German so whenever they were talking on the phone (all landline phones back then were attached to a party line of about 8 homes. If you picked up the phone and someone was on the line you had to hang up and wait until the line was not being used.) Whenever you would check to see if the line was available you would hear users switch back and forth from German to English or vice versa. They did this to keep nosey kids wouldn’t knowing what they were talking about.
The farm and house were set up in such a way to minimize labor. In 1959, which is my date of recollection for this story, they were out of the dairy business and made a living by farming and cutting wood.
My Grandma was an exceptional gardener. There were strawberries, cherries, apples, green beans and everything you could think of. In the spring we would clean out the chicken coop and spread the manure on the garden and in the fall, we would put straw on the garden to protect the plants from snow and cold. Grandpa would always till the garden in the spring and that would signal spring was here. As we harvested vegetables from the garden, they made their way to cellar that was right off the kitchen. It was a couple of feet down in the ground and always had a moist “nice” smell. If I built a house today, I’d definitely include this in the design. It would keep vegetables fresh all winter long.
My Grandma was one of the first “super heros” as far as I am concerned. She would always take care of the family hovering over the table, making sure everyone was looked after. She was an amazing cook and the original inventor of chilly-mac. Born out of necessity to feed so many hungry mouths. She always wore a dress and rubber garters, just above the knee. When she would remove them they always left deep grooves in her legs.
My Grandparents were not very affectionate. This was typical of the German parenting style of the time. I cannot recall hugs and such. We lived so close and saw them weekly so maybe hugs weren’t needed. My Grandma always had the table ready to serve a meal. And she always had a pot of something simmering on the stove. She had a jar on the table that always had spoons ready for oatmeal or chilly-mac! The last memory I have of my Grandma was in 1965. She died that year from a lengthy illness with pancreatic cancer. I remember my Dad carrying her out of her house, in his arms, out to a waiting ambulance, after she passed. All of us kids sat quietly in the car and watched.
My Grandpa was a farmer, woodsman and a great fan of baseball. He wore hearing aids but he never liked them and when he was watching baseball in “his” chair he would take them out and turn the TV up. As you walked up to the porch you could hear the game and know exactly where he was. I would cut wood with him and my brother Terry. We would cut it in the woods behind his house and take it to his house to cut using a big buzz saw that ran on a belt from his John Deere tractor.
My Grandpa would always stop what he was doing to help with different projects we had going. He had a tool shop that was so cool with loads of things that I did not know what they were for but knew they must be important.
We would help him bale hay two or three times a year, he would cut the hay, rake it and the neighbors (Ray and Tina Bahnsen) would bale it. As they were baling they would pull a wagon behind the tractor and bailer while we would load the bales so they would not fall off while we took them to the barn.
After it was all done and everyone was cleaned up, using a pump by the milk house (a milk house was where the cans of fresh milk were stored in a cool water bath waiting for the dairy to come and pick them up) we would make our way to the front porch where Grandpa would appear with beer for all the adults. That was all the pay there was, a beer for a long hard day…I loved those days.
All the kids and cousins would spend time on the farm, playing for hours in the hay mow, just to hear Grandma yell from the house…”You kids get out of the hay mow. NOW!”
It was a truly special time and I feel very lucky to have grown up in that place at that time. Surrounded by family and friends and always exploring the marshes we lived next to…
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