By Sherry Kramer 

The lines of her face showed that her life had been hard.  The lines circling her eyes and across her forehead seemed to say that she had worried a lot.  Her eyes shone though, and there seemed to be a diamond sparkle for each one of the eight children she had raised.  

Her face was clear, she looked as if her make-up had been applied.  With just a hint of blush and the palest of red lipstick, but she wore no make-up.  Her dimples showed even though there wasn’t a smile.  I suppose that comes from 80 years of smiling. 

Her mouth was soft.  You knew by looking at her softness that a swear word, a bit of gossip of deaming words, had never been spoken to hurt of bring down those around her.  She gave no praise, unless it was well deserved, and then it heaped upon you, I remember her telling me to show love to my children, but be firm in their discipline.  Her gossip was whether her peas, carrots, or beans would win the grand prize at the fair, or if she would take the prize for her bread this year.  I remember how she beamed with love and pride, the year her daughter won first place and she took second. 

Her firm jaw line was from the hard life she’d had and meeting it head on.  When she spoke it was not with tone, “I’m better”, but a tone that said “Come we’ll learn together” she looked for new things to take each problem apart and look at it piece, as a mathematician would do to his problem, she too would look logically at each piece of her problem.  Her smile would shine when all was solved, for she took pride in a job well done. 

Her shoulders were hunched as though she had carried the weight of the world on them.  But she had received those shoulders from heredity.  Her daughter and granddaughter have the same shoulders, and they have not worked as hard. 

Her back is strong.  She was expected to work hard in her early years.  She was from pioneer stock, and excuses were not heard of .  In her early twenties she was married.  Her first of eight came soon, followed quickly by number two.  Even during her pregnancies, she worked as a cook for twenty five men on a neighboring farm.  Her tool to accomplish her responsibilities was a strong body, strong will, to overcome adversity, and a willing heart, to help others. 

Her sewing is known statewide for its perfection.  While growing up, my favorite presents were from her.  I knew it would be two articles of clothing made from her creativeness and perfect in every way. 

Her forty grandchildren were to have a quilt for a wedding present.  She made sure of this by making them now and not waiting until they were married.  I might not be alive then she would say.  Each stitch was taken with her hands and done as evenly as a sewing machine stitches. 

She would rise at 4:30 a.m. to weed, hoe, and pick in her garden.  The produce would be used to win ribbons in the state fair.  I’ve seen her rise at midnight to take turns for this garden, and being 80 years of age was no reason or excuse for someone else to do her job. 

Her canning was an example of her patience, Cobs of corn became kernels stacked, one on top of the others like treads of tires.  Her green beans stood straight, tall and even just like an army platoon in review.  Her fancy canning won grand prize many times.  My favorite were her dill pickles.  They snapped with crispness and puckered your mouth with dill. 

Her hands are wrinkled, but strong and still working at 80.   

Her honesty is well known in Malad, Idaho.  This was shown to me, when I tried to cash a check.  When they heard who’s granddaughter I was, the storekeeper said, “Sure you may write a check” I was from out of state.   

If I was to give a statement of her life it would be “Any job worth doing is worth doing well.”  Her life is an example of doing ones best, even when times are the hardest.  (picture of Mary Adams, Vernon, and children including Leona.)