I wish to be a song

That arouses your memory from slumber

Golden notes to encumber

What's left of your life so long


I wish to be the song

That reminds you of the roses

You grew and dusted our noses

Before winter came and the scent was gone


I wish to be the song

That tells of when you placed a basket in my hand

Picking the August blackberries that flourished on your land

Before the hungry deer came along


I wish to be the song

That recalls the taste of your famous cookie

And the Grandma's special you always had for me

When lunch arrived and a normal sandwich seemed so wrong


I wish to be your song

That makes you as you were

Before your memories were deferred

And the woman I knew was gone 

Abigail Van Hom
11/26/04
Period 6

My Interview With Grandma

Elizabeth Anne Sachleben (my grandma) was born on June 12, 1937.
She was born in a small hospital called Mercy Hospital in Mineola,
New York. I interviewed her a little while back. It went something
like this.

“Grandma, where did you grow up?”I asked, pretending to be interested. “I grew up in Hempstead, New York.” she answered calmly. Having never heard of Hempstead, New York, I decided to go deeper into the subject.

“What was Hempstead like?” “It was a suburb of New York City, and it was a very small town much like the one I live in now," she answered with a hidden giggle in her voice.

“What kind of house did you live in, Grandma'?” I asked, trying to think of
diligent questions.

“I lived at 26 West Columbia Street. I lived on the top floor of the house with my family.  The family who owned the house lived on the bottom floor.  The father of the family owned an auto repair shop.  They were such nice people."

“What did the house look like’?” I asked, semi-interested. “It was tall and white and had a black-shingled roof. It was quite boring if you ask me," she answered with a hoyty-toyty tone in her voice.

“Did you have any friends that you played with?” I sputtered, with a mouth full of gummy worms.

"Actually, one of the girls that lived downstairs was a year younger than I was, so we played together a lot.

“What was the best thing about living in your house?” “The best thing about living there was a movie theater about half a block away, and every Saturday morning they had the Ten O’clock club. If you were a member, you could see a movie for 25 cents at 10 o’clock. The regular price for movies was 85 cents. I thought that was a pretty good deal.”

“Where did you go to school?” I asked, with a hint of boredom. “I went to Washington Street School in 1942 until I was 14. It went up to eighth grade.”

“Were any of the teachers party pooper twits?" I asked with the utmost sincerity.

“No!” she said bursting with laughter. After she was able to contain her laughter, she continued.

“All the teachers were pretty nice. Actually, when I was in second grade, my mother substituted for two months, and then began teaching kindergarten full time.”

“Where did you go to school after that, Grandma?”

“I went to Hempstead High School in 1951."

“Did you live in the same house during high school as you did when you went to Washington Street School?” “Actually no. We moved a little closer to Washington Street. We moved into a duplex. I believe the address was 8 Lent Avenue.”

“Where did you go after high school?" “I went to Cornell University.”

“Did you live at college?" "Yes, I did. I lived on the fifth floor of the dormitory. The worst part was there were no elevators,” she said in a exhausted tone.

“Did you have any friends?" I asked, finally interested.

“Are you kidding? I had a lot of friends! In fact, I joined a sorority. Do you know what a sorority is?"

“No.”

“It’s sort of like a club, and the seniors get to live in a house. You get to go to meetings and dances and fund raisers.” “Who were your friends in the sorority?” “Well, one was Nancy, and another was Jo, and the other one was Bobby."

“These are all girls, right?"

“Yes,” she said with a fist full of giggles.

“When did you meet Grandpa?”

“I met him when I went to a football game in the beginning of my freshman year. I was on a date with one of his fraternity brothers in l955."

“Where did you go on your first date with him?"

“We went to a square dance, and he was very enthusiastic. At one point, I ended up with my butt on the floor, because he was swinging me around so fast!” she said laughing so hard she almost choked.

“So when did he propose to you?”

“He didn’t really propose. He gave me his fraternity pin. That meant we were engaged to be engaged. We got engaged in the fall of my senior year in October of 1958. He had already graduated, so he came to see me on a vacation and brought me the ring.”

“Where was he working at the time?"

“He was working in Florida for Bell Aircraft."

“What was he working as?"

“I have no clue!"

“When was the wedding?"

“August 15, 1959.”

“Where was it held?"

“We were married in the church at Hempstead and had our reception at a hotel in Garden City, New York.

“Where did you go on the honeymoon?”

“We took at trip through the Northeast and Canada, and we drove 2,500 miles in one week!"

“Where was your first house?"

“We first lived on Grand Island."

(“Was it grand?”)

(“No, it wasn’t grand.")

“It was between Buffalo and Niagara Falls, New York.”

“What was the address?”

“I can’t remember, I`m sorry. But it was in the middle of the Niagara River. That`s why it`s called ‘Grand Island.”

“What did your husband do?”

“He still worked for Bell Aircraft, and I still don’t know what he did.”

“What did you do?”

“I taught first grade at Thirty-Ninth Street School in Niagara Falls.”

Do you have any memorable moments from teaching school?"

“Yes, I do.”

“This is what I call the Denelda story. One day I handed out papers to all the children, and I had copied work on both sides of the paper. One little girl named Denelda raised her hand and said, ‘Mrs.Van Horn, my paper’s upside down.'” I said, ‘Well just tum it around, Denelda.' I gave the directions and asked the children to turn their papers over. Once again, up goes Denelda's hand. ‘Mrs.Van Horn, my paper’s upside down.' ‘Well Denelda,’ I said, ‘turn your paper around.'”

"Also, one of the things we did when I was teaching kindergarten is that we had a letter of the week, and one of the activities was for the children to tell me words that began with that letter, and I would write them down. The week we were doing the letter ‘D,' one of the children said, ‘diarrhea,' and as I was writing it down, another child said, ‘Oh yeah, I know her, she rides on my bus.’"

"One day in the kindergarten class, the children were having a discussion about infinity, and one little boy, after along discussion, said, ‘Well, infinity’s not a number but, it‘s a whole lot more than seven!”

"When did you have your first child?"

“I had my first child in 1964."

“Was it a boy or a girl?"

"It was a girl named Ruth.”

“Did you have any more children?”

"Yes, I did. I had one more. A boy whose name was David."

“What was your favorite thing about raising kids?"

"Seeing them grow and learn things and have happy times.”

“How did Grandpa die?"

“He had cancer.”

“Any specific type--brain, lung?"

“Pancreatic.”

“How are you doing now?"

“Great!"

“What are you doing now that you enjoy?"

"I enjoy my 21 piano students and my grandchild."

There you have it. An interview with a remarkable woman whose many secrets were unopened for many years. My grandma is a truly beautiful woman.

Abigail Van Horn #23

Grade 4 2/13/03

Extreme Paradise

"Pit, pat. Pit, pat," goes the rain at my grandmother's quiet medium house in the deep green forest in Vermont.  The sounds of wildlife are so soothing and relaxing to me because they calm my nerves and replace my nerves with an energetic feeling.  But of course, the person that makes my grandmother's house a paradise is my Grandma.  She's cheerful and soft and adds lots of happiness to my life.

The weather in my Grandmother's backyard is so mysterious, you never know what's going to happen next. Every room in Grandma's house has large viewing windows looking over a landscape of tall pine and hemlock trees. Away in the distance you can see green mountains just over a break in the trees. Some mornings when I get up, I see a heavy mist draping over the trees. Other times, when it's bright and sunny and mostly dry, and I go out and play, in a minute, it will start to rain. In the winter, it will start to snow and last only a couple of minutes. But on Christmas day, it snowed 36 inches! Very rarely does one type of weather stay all day.

There are so many fabulous games, sports and nature adventures to do, you don't know where to start. On bright sunny days when it's warm, we go outside and play croquet and round ball. Or we like to listen and watch for birds, and pick blackberries when they're in season. My Dad and I also look for moths, butterflies, or grasshoppers. One time I found a fiery red newt. When it's raining, we go down to my grandma's basement and play darts or ping pong. On snowy days, we go out and build a snowman if we can and go sledding down my grandma's backyard slope. My grandma has very long driveway which my Dad thinks would be great for sledding because it's a little more sloppy. Whatever the weather, I play card games and board games with my grandma and family, and it's fun because I often win. There is always something fun to do at my grandma's house.

My Grandmother's backyard is dotted with flowers whereever the sun peeks through the trees and other wondrous plants and land forms like huge rocks. My grandma's rose garden has a variety of colors and scents. There is also a small flower bed by the sunporch door with little poppies, pansies, zinias and mums. Wild flowers dot the lawn and rocks. Along the rocks by the blackberry bushes, there are little green plants with fuzzy leaves. Every spring Grandma tries to grow sweet peas, but she has to put a fence around them to keep the deer away. Deer are very common and we see them almost every time I'm there. My grandmother doesn't like them because they like to eat many of her flowers and bushes, but I still enjoy seeing them.

All of this wonderful variety of life relaxes me because it's a complete change from my daily life in Rhode Island.  After a full day at Grandma's house, I snuggle in as she reads me a story, and I fall asleep to the gentle "pit pat, pit pat" of rain falling on the roof.  My grandmother's house is the most quiet, relaxing place you could ever go.

The Perfect Grandma

Abby Van Horn (2005)

“Pitter, patter, pitter, patter,” I hear as the rain falls into the gutters outside my dripping window.  As I sit by the looming windows on the old scruffy couch, I watch a nearby leaf slowly brought down by each new burden of the endless water droplets.  But even so, the leaf absorbs the drops and rises anew, wanting more.  That’s how I feel when I’m at my grandma’s, like all my burdens are absorbed.

With the old comforting house comes a comforting person, my grandma.  The meaning of perfection, the essence of comfort and love, she shines her light on me; and I feel relieved.  She shines her light with clear blue eyes that have seen much  but still carry a mischievous spark.  Her hands are knowing with age and plant beautiful life in the lush green of her backyard.  When she does this, the sun shines on her skin that is clear as tranquil waters so that you see the powerful veins pumping through.  She may be short and wrinkled, but she is always vivacious.  Her voice is calm yet strong, like a shy sun, whose rays peek through a cloud.  Her laughter is like a blossom which suddenly bursts into bloom.  She doesn’t walk gracefully nor rigidly, but surely and strongly.  She drags her feet slightly so I hear a soft swoosh  from her old cotton slippers or her garden goulashes wherever she goes.

I have learned many things from my grandma, but she rarely uses words to teach them.  She uses sight and sound and most of all, demonstration.  A great example of that is the day I decided to play her grand piano.  Now my grandma always taught me to try my best and love everything I did.  Piano is one thing I don’t always like to do, and that in itself is whole different story; but I digress.  So one day, about two years ago, I was working on a piano piece called Aragonaise, and I wanted to see how it sounded on my grandma’s superb grand piano (with a little persuasion from my mother, of course).  I played, and it sounded beautiful.  My flowing fingers going up and down scales, the flawless ivory keys just waiting to be played; you could say I was having a grand old time (no pun intended).  Then wordlessly, my grandma came into the room and played it for me.  She played so beautifully, I thought surely the notes themselves would start dancing across the page. When she had finished, she turned to me and said, “You know Abby, the best music comes from your heart.”  After the way my grandma played the song, I believed it.  For the next half hour or so, we worked on the song and played and had a grand old time together.

My grandmother has a knack for sewing; but she absolutely DESPISES it.   Even so, she was the one who taught me how to sew, but more memorably, how to use the machine.  Well, I needed to know how to use the machine because I had to help Mrs. Gilstein with sewing the pillows when I got back from vacation.  So, of course, I went straight to my grandma for help.   She went upstairs to get the machine while I cleared off the table.  She came back down and took out the machine.  Once she had the machine set up, she spent about five minutes wandering around anxiously and looking into small spaces.  I finally asked her what she was looking for.  She told me she was looking for her glasses, and I told her they were in her hand.  I was a little worried after that, but I went along with it because, hey, we’re talking about my grandma here.
 
We started out well; she showed me the basics and how to sew in a straight line.  It was smooth sewing until we had to figure out how to thread the bobbin.  I thought it would be a good idea to read the directions; long story short, I was VERY wrong.  A new Grandma came out that day, a very funny and scary one who swears a lot.  Eventually we found out how to thread the bobbin, and it was all good for the time being.  I can’t say we had a “grand old time”, but we sure had a fun one. 

In short, my grandma greatly influenced my life in a way that no one can touch.  She is comforting, loving and sometimes downright kooky.  She's not only my grandma, she's the perfect Grandma! 

Among the many wonderful memories of Aunt Betty, two things jump out as I recall fond summertime visits to Willy Hill Road.  The first is Aunt Betty’s infectious laugh – the merry sound still rings in my ears, and even now it makes me smile.  As time heals the sadness, the warm, unabashed joy of Aunt Betty will continue through the laughter of adults and children alike. 

Whereas the first was auricular, the second memory springs forth from my nose and watering mouth.  Even before entering the house, I could smell Aunt Betty’s freshly-baked cookies.  Once inside, it was all I could do to endure some brief pleasantries before heading to the cooling rack to sample the still-warm treats.  To this day, any time I see peanut butter cookies with a big chocolate kiss in the center, I think of Aunt Betty (and I imagine I will forever be in search of a batch that can rival the taste).

I will always remember and appreciate the Aunt Betty's warmth, both inside and outside the kitchen.

Betty's been a friend of ours for we can't say how many years!
And many are the laughs we've shared, as well as occasional tears.

We go way back to Jones Circle, and baby Ruthie's birth
Back then we were barely beginning, to understand Betty's worth!

Remember the Bible study group?  Chez Cleta and chez you?
With Junius Yorke Peeler among us, challenging many a view?

Remember the famous "ladies" trip to Waterbury site?
The party hats and the singing?  And me ready to take flight?

Remember all those teen years?  The tiffs and ins and outs?
And David at the gas pumps?  And Ruth with dressmaking clout?

I remember lovely parties, at Christmas, on Willey Hill,
And DHE and JVH in church work, getting their fill!

Remember all the musical skill and the just plain fun with giggles...
That you gave to the church's Junior Choir and the five-year-olds with wiggles?

Remember our pride when the little ones we'd brought up with such love
Were graduates (!) and on their own, with our help, and some from above?

Remember the sadness of parting from Jack who meant much to us all
And the typical courage you managed, standing surely eleven feet tall.

Oh, and don't forget the roses!  That respond to your special touch
Nor your wonderful gift for friendship, from which we have benefited much!

I remember spending an evening, with Maurice Pike, I believe,
When we were asked to share some memories we retrieved,

Of those who had been our models for what we hoped to become;
A church school teacher yours was, who was good and true, but had fun!

And I hope that delightful woman knows you reflect her way
For Betty you are true as true, and you give us a laugh a day!

THANK YOU FOR BEING SUCH A VERY SPECIAL YOU!