Abbie and Kathy
My Grandma Abbie died February 18, 1999. At the time, a couple of my Strange-Webber cousins were publishing a family newsletter. The edition after Abbie’s death was to highlight memories of her. I wrote the following for the newsletter, but in my typical procrastinator style, I didn’t get it in on time. So I’ll use it here as a way to introduce Abbie Elizabeth Webber Smith Brender. (Sorry if the beginning sounds a little familiar. I wrote the 1st blog entry and this memory years apart!)
Memories of Grandma Abbie
As a child, I didn’t dream of growing up to be a teacher, a nurse, or a movie star. I wanted to be a Grandmother. You see, I had two wonderful grandmothers with soft arms for hugging, work for us to do together, time for playing, and infinite love.
I spent many weekends at the Hedrick Y. Dad, of course, was busy working at the Cycle Ranch during the day. Grandma and Grandpa were busy working, too, but it was easy to spend most of my time hanging out where the food was! And that was Grandma’s and Grandpa’s gas station/grocery store/cafe. In this wonderful place, I could help pump gas, serve customers, wash dishes, listen to the “town talk”, and eat the daily special. On Saturday mornings, I had a reserved seat for
Saturday morning cartoons at the Hedrick Y
viewing Mighty Mouse and other favorite TV shows. My seat was on a shelf by the loaves of bread – up close, out of the way, and inconspicuous. During the busy breakfast and lunch times, Grandma was busy cooking and serving hot coffee and a good meal. She did this while keeping up lively conversations with her friends (customers), always creating a friendly place for neighbors and travelers to eat a meal or take a break.
Your grandmother, my Aunt Abbie, always made me feel at home when I visited the Hedrick Y. I have very good memories of her, and of Uncle Charlie. They let me help in the store, including making change. Unfortunately, my math was not very good, so I needed a little supervision!
It was a great place to be a kid. And I didn’t even mention the stray cats that were always adopted or the sodas – or pop – as I would have said before turning Texan.