Oma Stories

My grandma, a.k.a. Oma passed away just over a week ago.  Here is the tribute from the Grandchildren:

Our Oma will be remembered dearly by all us grandchildren. Oma always seemed happy sitting back with a quiet smile watching all of us causing a ruckus and racket during family gatherings, never seeming to get annoyed or ask us to behave better.

The first memory that came to me was one of being pushed on the big swing and playing in the back yard, often sneaking raspberries and other fresh things from her big garden. If it wasn’t digging through her garden then it was snooping through the basement and Opa's garage.  Looking back, her home seemed a bit like an antique shop filled with beautiful dishes we wouldn’t dare touch, a manual coffee grinder, of which I had never seen the likes, old fashioned telephones and scales, darts and dolls and a whole basement filled with hidden treasure.

We all remember coming over for delicious faspas. Even if a family or two arrived without much warning she had fresh zwieback ready to go – zwieback so good I can hardly describe them other than to say they were known as “Oma buns”, and an unbeatable favourite.

We often got to help Oma bake, and our unpracticed hands would turn out buns that fell over or popped up like snowmen. But Oma was patient and always gave us some dough to shape into letters or other fun shapes. Our cousin Lori remembers helping bake the very special “Oma buns” and how she never needed a recipe and could throw in a bit of this and a pinch of that to make the perfect dough and squeeze it through her hands to making the little dimpled ball on top, just the way we loved it.

“Oma cookies” were another favourite. You know - the brown, jam-filled cookies, shaped like mini-footballs with the white glaze? Lebkuchen, I think she called them, but to us they were just “Oma cookies.” There is a new cookbook out called, “Mennonite Girls Can Cook,” and as I looked through it, it struck me that our Oma could have written that book. She made it all – from the pluma moos, to the bubbat, to the platz. The best part of Oma’s baking and cooking was that when we came over she would have made extras and we were given pails and bags and jars of kitchen treasures. She stocked our freezers with cookies and buns and our shelves with jellies and preserves.

Our Oma was always thoughtful and incredibly doting. I was a rather picky eater but loved my Oma’s raspberry jello. I can’t remember a family gathering without it, and no one else has the gift of making jello seem so delicious. Truly a testament to her culinary touch and, of course, raspberry growing skills.

My cousin Dave could also be guilty of picky eating and can attest to her spoiling ways.  When he was young he went to Oma's house every lunchtime for a year, while his Mom was driving bus and Oma would make him Tapioca pudding every day, just because he asked for it.

Karl, my brother, remembers Oma’s canned raspberries, which are still the best I have ever tasted! While he was in high school he was asked to mow Oma’s lawn which he did - but not for money. His request was that he be paid in raspberries. That’s how good they were.

Raspberries weren’t the only thing that Oma canned. She had a basement full. Jars and jars of jams and grape jelly, apple juice and pickles. My cousin Kim remembers that her basement had the slight smell of dill because that was where she had her pantry.  Even to this day she thinks of Oma when she smells dill.

Oma wasn’t just wonderful in the kitchen, she was also a great sewer and knitter. She made every one of her grandkids an afghan and Christmas stocking. One Christmas I remember her making all the girls giant teddy bears. I was so little that it seemed as big as I was. Everyone else got white or brown ones but, being the youngest, I got a blue one. I was upset that mine looked different from the others, so she went and sewed me another one. Obviously, a sign of great patience, or I might just have been her favorite.

My sister Lisa recounted, that at the end of a visit at Oma and Opa’s, just as we prepared to leave, Oma would go to the broom closet and get down a crystal jar full of Toffees and we were each allowed to have one before we went home.

Oma’s house was full of sweet treats, but nothing can top her famous cure for hiccups. Being the oldest grandchildren, my older brother, Jeff, and I may be the only ones privy to her secret. Our mom and aunts probably put a stop to the madness before the younger cousins got in on it, but we remember being given a heaping spoonful of brown sugar which quickly put an end to our hiccups. Of course, if one of us got the treatment, the other would whine until they also were given a spoonful of sugar, hiccups or not. It’s funny how often we seemed to develop a bad case of those gut wrenching spasms when we visited Oma.

Finally, no visit to Oma’s would be complete without a trip to the fridge. More specifically, her fridge magnets. She had tons of little rainbows and fruit shapes that we would arrange to spell out our names. It was always a race to get to the fridge to spell out your name first or sneak back and change someone else’s name to yours. Oma would leave it there and when we next came over we would rush to the fridge to see who’s name was up from the last visit.

There are many other childhood memories like learning to crochet using a spool with nails on the top, receiving woven hangers every Christmas, having a summer feast of watermelon and rollkucken on the back deck, spinning on the kitchen stools until we were so dizzy we would fall over.

And as we grew up, we came to appreciate Oma for more than the food she made and the fun we had at her house. She was a quiet woman with a deep faith which was evident in the ways she cared for her family and the earth. Oma always had time to read a story, teach a life lesson, mend a tear. Her life was full of acts of service to others. She shared her love of nature with us, even taking some of us camping and instilling a sense of awe and respect in us for God’s beautiful creation. Through patience and lots of tlc, plants, both indoors and out, flourished under her care.

Oma’s love for her family showed through in how she cared for us, her grandchildren, and also how she cherished her great-grandchildren. Even in her 80’s, she made the trip across the province to visit her twin great-grandsons in Saskatchewan. Since then, she gained many more great-grandchildren, including another set of twin boys (she really started something there!) – all were special to Oma.

Just by being the person she was, Oma taught us to be thankful for what we have, to share our possessions, and to truly care for each other.

Oma, in all your gentle and generous ways, you will be missed.