« Previous | Main | Next »

Day 7 - Gertrude Pauline Larson

December 07, 2005

ph_dec_grandma.jpg

This is a picture of my maternal grandmother on the day of her confirmation. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and it feels as if Gertrude is looking back at me. I have her eyes.

Trudy was a first generation Swede. Her parents made the long journey from Upsala, Sweden in the early 1900's. One by one, members of her family boarded boats and sailed off to Ellis Island, followed by what must have been a very long & arduous trip to Minneapolis, Minnesota.

She worked as milliner (hat maker) in Minneapolis until my grandfather, Henry Victor Bowman, swept her off her feet and out of the arms of her steady boyfried. It took my mother some time to figure out why grandma wore felt hats in the summer and straw hats in the winter. In those days, you had to be your own fashion show, advertising the upcoming season's styles. And during a Minnesota winter, that takes real creativity and commitment.

Henry Bowman was a handsome and hard-working man. At the age of 9, he dropped out of school to work in a grocery store and help support his family. Although he never finished grade school, he became an inventor for Eastman Kodak, and eventually left to start his own Tool and Die business. I wonder what would have become of him if he had been given the opportunity to go to college. He was a brilliant self-made man. Despite their differences over finances – grandma loved to spend Henry's money – they adored each other. I remember only love and acceptance pouring out from them when I was a child.

Gertrude was Lutheran, and Henry's family was Baptist. When my mother began wearing make-up in high school, my gradfather's sisters just about had a tizzy. And as you might suspect, drinking was simply not allowed ~ with one exception. On New Year's Eve the family would ceremoniously fill up their cordial glasses with Mogan David wine to ring in the new year. {Mom says Henry kept a private stash of whiskey in a secret cabinet during the rest of the year ~ an appropriate vice when one considers the harshness of Minnesota winters.}

At the strike of twelve, my grandfather would gallop to the front door, swing it wide open and shout, "Here comes the NEW YEAR!" and then sprint to open the back door to chase the old year out. I can just see his big silohuette framed by the doorway with Minneapolis snow pouring in all around him. Gee, I wonder where my sense of wonder & whimsy came from... who could it be?

Tonight, I just might pull out a bottle of Mogan David, fill up the cordials and make a toast to Henry and Trudy's whimsy and creativity.

Posted by vincent at December 7, 2005 10:28 AM

Comments

What a wonderful story!

Posted by: dan at December 7, 2005 12:37 PM

Lovely rememberence. She looks a bit like (meaning the clothes and hair) my husband's grandmother, who also lived in Minneapolis. She died in the 70's at an old age. I wonder if they were of the same era.

Posted by: Loie at December 7, 2005 02:02 PM

I love to look at old pictures. The women were so glamorous.

Posted by: aola at December 7, 2005 04:20 PM

Thank you Susan for a wonderful tribute to my Mom...........you often bring tears to my eyes. You listen well for every detail of the story is true. Hugs.

Posted by: janet at December 8, 2005 12:54 PM

Mom,

Hugs to you too! Smooootch!

Susan

Posted by: susan at December 8, 2005 02:26 PM