Hazel Foxworthy may have only been four feet and ten inches tall, but from the stories my mother told me, grandma was a giant. She was persistent, hard working, resourceful, and passionate. Here are just a few memories and stories that reveal her greatness.
Persistence Pays Off. (About twenty years off)
When the Packers won the super bowl back in the sixties, my Grandmother packed her kids into her fire engine red mustang, and speed all the way to the Green Bay airport without much thought for the rules of the road. When she arrived, she climbed fences, ducked the guards, and wove her way through the cheering crowd. It must have been quite a sight. There she was, a little woman in her late forties plowing her way through the throng of cheese heads saying, “Hey! You can’t do this to me. I’m an old woman with a heart condition!”
She made her way to the front of the crowd to the winning team. There she stood triumphant, a small silhouette among the conquering giants.
Supply On Demand
By the way, my Grandmother did not receive her license in the conventional way. She drove to the DMV and demanded that she have one. One of her children was very sick, and she had no other means to get him to the hospital but to drive him herself. They knew that she was going to drive with or without one. So, she got it. Though she wasn’t the best driver, I can say that the roads were probably just as safe. From what I understand, she preferred “alternative” roads. Driving through fields was sometimes quicker I suppose.
Super Surprise
My Grandfather would come home everyday at the same time, and ask “Where is my dinner” to which my Grandmother would reply “Where is the food that I am suppose to make dinner with?” He would then open the refrigerator and the cupboards and point to the random boxes, jars, meat packages, and odd spices about the house without much of a focus on what comprised an edible meal.
So one day, Grandma did the same. She opened up the refrigerator and all the cupboards and dumped a little bit of this and that into a large pot. My mother watched in horror and disgust, as the lumpy assortment of the supper surprise grew.
“Where’s my din… Oh” Grandpa said when he saw the table set and ready for him. He sat down at the table as Grandma plopped a heaping spoonful of the kitchen compilation onto his dish. She watched him eat his first bite with the greatest satisfaction. That is until he proclaimed that he loved it! He had seconds. He took it to work the next day.
Poor Grandma. I don’t know if she ever made that meal for him again, but I admire her effort to try and teach him a lesson.
