Sunday, June 11th not 1916
Today was my Grandma Christensen's birthday. She was born June 11, 1916. She was a pretty cool lady who put up with two alcoholic, abusive sons. And, I think husband. I recall my mother once saying she remembered seeing my Grandpa, her father, push my Grandma out the door. I don't know if it was the front door or, if my mother actually told me that it was the front door, but I have long had this picture in my mind of my Grandpa pushing my Grandma out the front door of their house in North St. Paul; The same door my mother is shown walking out of on her Wedding Day. Her Dad was holding his hand out to her in a picture in my Mom and Dad's Wedding Album. In the picture, she looks young and beautiful in her Wedding dress and my Grandpa looks handsome in his black cutaway coat and striped tuxedo pants. My mother was 21 when she got married which means my Grandpa would have been almost 42.
Abuse is usually a learned behavior so I would imagine my uncles, sadly, came by their abusive behavior naturally as they learned it watching their father push their mother out doors. I believe my Grandfather was also an alcoholic but, when I knew him, he didn't drink anymore. Somehow, I doubt he went to AA. My mother escaped the alcoholism and the abusive mindset. I don't know how but, thinking about it now, that she turned out so well and so level-headed was a miracle. She always said that her Dad wished he had had 3 daughters to raise instead of one daughter and two sons. My Grandparents certainly excelled with my mother. I remember how devastated she was when my Grandpa died of a massive heart attack in April 1976. I was 13 myself then but I remember it. We were living in Ohio and had to go back to Minnesota for the funeral. My Grandpa Ritter was so upset for my Grandma Christensen that I remember him saying at one point, "Oh Ann" and just sobbing. I believe that was at Grandpa Christensen's funeral as Grandpa Ritter walked up the aisle at St. Bernard's to receive Communion. He also had, at the same time, an "Angina Attack" and partially collapsed and had to sit in a pew. One of my mom's cousins was a nurse and she helped him get out a nitro pill and put it under his tongue. Recalling this incident some forty-one years later gives me pause to think about who my Grandpa Ritter really was. For a man to have shown that much emotion in public then was significant.
My Grandma Christensen's name was Ann too but without the "e". It was "short" for Anna . . . Anna Marie Huber. I have enjoyed thinking about her today. Sometimes, I wonder if spirits visit me. There was the case of the ghost asking for napkins a couple weeks ago. I don't know how I know but I am pretty sure that was Sheila. She feels frantic and desperate at times which I totally understand. I say this about spirits because awhile after my Grandma passed away from this world, she came to me. I have always thought I imagined it but she had been gone for 9 years at that point. Shortly after my divorce, I was accessing 494 going North from the Valley Creek road entrance ramp. This was probably summer of 2000? I was a single parent of 3 young boys and everybody was telling me who I had to be and how to do it all to make it worth. I had no faith in myself which made it worse. As I was driving the van on to the highway, I heard my grandmother's voice clearly say to me, "Don't worry Anne. God never gives you more than you can handle". Why would I hear it if she really didn't say it? I don't think I am crazy although, at times, I wish I was. Crazy seems to be an ad hoc justification for many bad, irrational behaviors. I might like to be crazy in that case. I didn't believe in God so that is not why I find my Grandmother's message so chillingly powerful. She came to me when I needed her and told me something that I would think of often over the years. When I thought I couldn't handle it, my Grandmother knew I would be able to and I needed to know somebody believe in me somewhere.
Abuse is usually a learned behavior so I would imagine my uncles, sadly, came by their abusive behavior naturally as they learned it watching their father push their mother out doors. I believe my Grandfather was also an alcoholic but, when I knew him, he didn't drink anymore. Somehow, I doubt he went to AA. My mother escaped the alcoholism and the abusive mindset. I don't know how but, thinking about it now, that she turned out so well and so level-headed was a miracle. She always said that her Dad wished he had had 3 daughters to raise instead of one daughter and two sons. My Grandparents certainly excelled with my mother. I remember how devastated she was when my Grandpa died of a massive heart attack in April 1976. I was 13 myself then but I remember it. We were living in Ohio and had to go back to Minnesota for the funeral. My Grandpa Ritter was so upset for my Grandma Christensen that I remember him saying at one point, "Oh Ann" and just sobbing. I believe that was at Grandpa Christensen's funeral as Grandpa Ritter walked up the aisle at St. Bernard's to receive Communion. He also had, at the same time, an "Angina Attack" and partially collapsed and had to sit in a pew. One of my mom's cousins was a nurse and she helped him get out a nitro pill and put it under his tongue. Recalling this incident some forty-one years later gives me pause to think about who my Grandpa Ritter really was. For a man to have shown that much emotion in public then was significant.
My Grandma Christensen's name was Ann too but without the "e". It was "short" for Anna . . . Anna Marie Huber. I have enjoyed thinking about her today. Sometimes, I wonder if spirits visit me. There was the case of the ghost asking for napkins a couple weeks ago. I don't know how I know but I am pretty sure that was Sheila. She feels frantic and desperate at times which I totally understand. I say this about spirits because awhile after my Grandma passed away from this world, she came to me. I have always thought I imagined it but she had been gone for 9 years at that point. Shortly after my divorce, I was accessing 494 going North from the Valley Creek road entrance ramp. This was probably summer of 2000? I was a single parent of 3 young boys and everybody was telling me who I had to be and how to do it all to make it worth. I had no faith in myself which made it worse. As I was driving the van on to the highway, I heard my grandmother's voice clearly say to me, "Don't worry Anne. God never gives you more than you can handle". Why would I hear it if she really didn't say it? I don't think I am crazy although, at times, I wish I was. Crazy seems to be an ad hoc justification for many bad, irrational behaviors. I might like to be crazy in that case. I didn't believe in God so that is not why I find my Grandmother's message so chillingly powerful. She came to me when I needed her and told me something that I would think of often over the years. When I thought I couldn't handle it, my Grandmother knew I would be able to and I needed to know somebody believe in me somewhere.
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