Ada (Stoddard) Filerby: Her grandson, Jim FilerGrampa used to call Ada "Dele", I thought short for Adel. "Dele, can I have two eggs this morning?", I can still hear Grampa's voice eagerly calling from behind the bedroom door to Gramma, who was already down the hall, in her long white flannel robe at the kitchen sink. She set the coffee pot down, and gazing through the window at the first rays of sun glistening off the frost on the shingled shed roof, would slowly coo back her reply, "Noooo Don, you know what the doctor said, 'only one'." I could only see the back of her small frame silhouetted in the morning light as I, in my pj's, ate my shredded wheat at the cold, chrome table. I imagine she grinned a little as she recited that prepared answer. This little exchange was their morning "Do you love me?." and "Yes, I do," that they faithly played out every morning, (at least when I got to sleep over). By the time I was ten, Grampa had the profile of a balding Santa Claus sans beard, but to an adult's point of view, probably Alfred Hitchcock. He had had a mild stroke, and from what I could see, Gramma had the conviction of Moses that she would never see him in the hospital again. Ada was a strong woman, who thought nothing at getting up at 4:00 am to begin fixing breakfast for her men before they would go off on a fishing trip. She could spend all day in the kitchen preparing for a Thanksgiving feast for her 3 boys and their families, and update the wives on the latest news about the neighbors while she did it. That woman never sat down and never a complaint was heard by this grandson. |