Her name was LauraEllen, but she was called Denelda, or Dee
for short. She was my mother’s mother, and I feel comfortable writing about her
here, because she is one of the models I am using for Leta. For example, she
was the one who made the extraordinary raisin-filled cookies and lemon meringue
pie (as well as to-die-for potato salad). Dee never made anything fancy, but it
was tasty.
Laura Ellen Denelda Barney was born on December 10, 1916 in Windsor,
Ontario, Canada to Martin and Fanny (Justus) Barney. She was the second of only
two children, born two years after her brother Burnard. When she was only a
couple of years old, her family moved back to the Toledo area. For much of her childhood, they lived with
relatives. Her father taking whatever work he could get. She learned how to
help around the house and be frugal.
Here is a side note: After my grandmother retired, she and my
mother were going through some of my grandmother’s old things and came across
about two dozen quilt blocks. Upon seeing them, my grandmother remembered that
she had made them when she was a girl, out of her old dresses. My mother, who
had always been a seamstress, thought that she could “do something with them.”
She ended up making table runners for my grandmother, herself, and her four
siblings. This enterprise launched her current activity as a quilter.
While my grandmother was very quiet about many things, she did
finally share that she believed her father was an alcoholic.
She stopped going to school after sixth grade. She met and
married William Loyd Curry and then spent the rest of her life in Toledo, Ohio.
One of the stories she told me is that when she was a young unmarried woman she
got a job working in a factory, and over the period of a couple of years she
saved two thousand dollars of her earnings.
Her fiancé knew about the funds. So did her father. Shortly before the
wedding, her father took the money to buy himself a new car. This did not go
over well with her fiancé, but they still married.
Dee never learned how to drive. She always walked, took the
bus or relied on someone else. Her first child died in childbirth. She always
said, “he was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck.” She also
shared that when she awoke in the hospital after delivery, she was alone. “I
called my mom, ‘Ma! Ma!” and then I called, ‘Bill! Bill!’” Her mother told her
about William, Jr. About a year later, she gave birth to my mother, and over
the next several years had four more children.
Now, I can’t say that my grandfather never had jobs. During my
childhood I knew that he cleaned carpets (in bowling alleys and other
commercial establishments) and sold dog food. However, he liked to play cards.
(He also liked bowling, but I don’t think that cost as much as the card
playing.) Until all of her children were born, my grandmother stayed home to
take care of them. I am fairly certain that’s how she wanted to spend her life.
However, circumstance required her to go back to work, so she did—at a factory
called Save Electric. A neighbor with smaller children would watch out for her
kids after school. (A side note: these neighbors are still good friends of my
mother.)
My grandfather died in 1970 of cancer. He lived hard, and he
died hard. I am old enough to remember him. He would give us pencils (from the
dog food company) unlike any we had ever seen. He cut my hair several times.
The cut of the day was called a “squirrel tail,” which was basically a buzz cut
with light bangs. My older brother wore the brunette version, and I the blonde.
(My hair did not start turning dark until I was about seven years old. Then,
remarkably, in my mid-thirties I was blonde again for a few years.) One of my
childhood treasures is a three-car Playschool train (connected by magnets) that
he gave me for my first birthday. It’s a pull-toy; I was already walking.
During his funeral in April 1970, my two siblings and I, and all three of our
other cousins thus far, stayed with my paternal grandmother Vivian. I remember
being dropped off, spending a subdued day there, and then everyone arriving, very
well dressed, to collect us all at about the same time. One by one, our mothers
came down the stairs to my grandparents’ basement recreation room, where we
were playing.
As for my grandmother, she was a marvel. With five kids and a
husband who only sometimes brought money home, she took it upon herself to be
the provider and primary parent. She was employed. She made sure the bills were
paid, including the mortgage on a three-bedroom house. None of her children
ever remembered being hungry. They definitely ate inexpensively, but they ate.
Peanut butter and spaghetti were staples. If my grandfather wasn’t home when
she really needed him, my grandmother sent her oldest—my mother—to retrieve him
from his card playing at his favorite hangout. More than once, my grandfather
met my grandmother on her way home from work on payday, and took her pay for
his own purposes. Even without these very necessary funds, she kept the lights
on and fed her children.
Her entire life was about scraping by. After my grandfather
died and her children got married and moved out, one would hope my
grandmother’s life would be easier. Yes, she was becoming a grandmother over
and over again. (In total, she had 17 of us.) But then she had a scare. It was
1974; she was 58 years old. Save Electric, where she had worked for years, shut
down. She wasn’t fully recovered from the expenses of my grandfather’s illness
and death. She needed a job desperately. She had a sixth-grade education. She
had only worked on a factory assembly line. She was 58 years old. She collected
unemployment, but she was unprepared to retire. It was a very insecure and
scary time for her. However, via my paternal grandfather (Vivian’s husband Ed),
she was hired at Champion spark plugs, where she worked the required ten years
to collect a full retirement.
During these ten years, she became financially secure, and she
began to take trips and have adventures. She sold her larger house for a single
story (with basement). She changed her furniture every decade or so. She fully
enjoyed her children, grandchildren, and when they came along, her
great-grandchildren. During my teenage years and into adulthood, I had a great
many enjoyable times with her. I felt—and still feel blessed—that I am from her
strong, loving, laughing, smart and clever line.
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