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Author: Nik
Posted: 2009-06-17 00:16:31

As a kid I loved spending my summers riding bikes, playing baseball, and fishing. I think all of that was a result of hanging out with my Dad so much. My Mom worked nights throughout my formative years. It wasn't until I was in school that she quit her Ore Ida factory job and decided to do something that allowed her to be home more. She took out an ad in the newspaper offering her services as a cleaning lady. This was not the best paying or most glamorous job, but it would work well for the family.

There was an overwhelming response to her ad, so she decided to choose only the elderly people who had inquired because they needed the most help.

I was more than a little annoyed when my summers were hijacked and I had to go with her to these jobs. The old people always found some tedious job for me. One time I remember spending 3 hours picking up pinecones only to be paid 50 cents.



I would follow mom around while groaning "it doesn't even look dirty!" or "you can get away with not vacuuming that." ..."it's going to storm before they even can enjoy these clean windows." but she always did what was asked and even provided these people with some much needed socialization.



As time went by I began to build bonds with these "old people". One couple we worked for made a big impact on me. Grover and Marjorie.



Grover was a very quiet, gruff man. He had been a sheep rancher in a small Idaho town before going into the army in 1941. He had a very interesting Army career during WWII, and after he retired from that, he taught school for over 30 years (he was one of my Mom's former teachers and had a reputation for being VERY strict).

Marjorie was quite the contrast to Grover. She was a well educated southern belle who was a very talented pianist. She and Grover met at a dance while he was still serving in the Army and the two fell in love.

The couple married, moved to Rupert, raised four kids, and were very active in their community.

My Mom began working for them soon after Grover was diagnosed with cancer. I didn't like going to their house that summer and seeing him get weaker and weaker. It was a tough battle that he lost fairly quickly.

But our relationship with Marjorie grew stronger and stronger over the years. Sometimes I thought she was a little opinionated and bossy...but it was always in a sweet way. She invited me to her church more times than I can count, to which I always politely declined. I thought "why would I want to go to the Methodist church?!?".

She had my college education all mapped out and even promised me a scholarship to the elite women's college that she had attended.

Marjorie was there to interview my new boyfirend, Albert, of whom she highly approved.

She attended our wedding (at the Rupert United Methodist Church).

She was there to hold our first child and make comments like "oh his fingers are so long, he will make a wonderful pianist someday."

Soon after our son's second birthday, Grandma Marge was diagnosed with pancriatic cancer. She was life-flighted to Boise for a treatment, and we went to visit her. Albert had lost his job the week before, we had just bought a house the month before, and to top if all off we had just found out that we were expecting a baby. I felt on the verge of tears as we walked into her hospital room...but as usual, Marge had an interrogation for us "Are you all going to have any more kids" she asked with her sweet Georgian accent. Albert and I smiled at each other knowing there was no way out of this without telling her. She always had wise words that made you feel better about everything.



Marge's battle with cancer lasted over 5 years. Who knew that you could still be an elegant woman if you didn't have any hair? What other person with cancer still cares about matching their hats and their broaches for church when they are so physically drained from undergoing chemo? Who else would become fast friends with their oncologist and invite them for visits?

Grandma Marge was quite a remarkable woman, and I am happy that my mom "drug" me to her house to pick up pinecones.
Keep track of us with Granny's Jack Booted