'I'm a little teapot'

By Marilyn Bacon-Underwood of North Mankato

Have you ever experienced a relationship where someone has loved you no matter what you have said or done? This is called unconditional love.

My unconditional love person was my Grandmother Anna, who was a Norwegian, five-feet tall, and taught country school in a one-room schoolhouse. She was married to Henry, my grandfather, a German who was six-feet tall, and milked his cows by hand.

Marilyn’s Grandmother Anna Hendrickson-Schwensohn in her school days as a teacher. Contributed photo

Grandma taught first grade through eighth grade all at the same time! Her schoolhouse, which was on the prairie of west central Minnesota, often reminded me of the Laura Ingalls-Wilder stories.

I had the pleasure of visiting Grandma’s classroom on two separate occasions. I was amazed at how she kept each child occupied throughout the day. She not only taught, but she added wood to the potbelly stove, and washed the floor when students tracked in with their muddy shoes. Her students loved her because they knew how much she cared about each and every one of them.

Quite often during the summer, she cared for both her mother and her mother-in-law in their small farmhouse. The two great-grandmothers would make quilts, braid rugs, and embroider doilies. I would visit and have three grandmothers all in one house! These are fond memories. I have a quilt hanging in my home that all three grandmothers worked on together.

I remember the barn where my grandfather kept his “milk cows.” When I close my eyes, I can still recall how that barn smelled. The aroma was of hay bales, old wood, manure (cow pies), and cattle feed. There were several cats, which received free room and board as long as they kept the mouse population down to a minimum.

My favorite memory of the barn was when Grandpa would be milking his cows. You could hear the milk hitting the pail with a consistent rhythm. The cats would all line up next to Grandpa waiting for him to shoot a stream of milk at them. When he shot the airborne milk... the cats would jump up in mid-air with their mouths wide open... devouring the fresh milk with a deep swallow, traveling down their throats. That always made Grandpa smile, while it gave me a robust belly laugh.

The thing I loved the most about my Grandmother was that she was a bit eccentric. When she sneezed, she did it with gusto. I think half the county could hear her. Sometimes she would listen in on their old party-line telephone. She was curious and wanted to hear what her neighbors were talking about. One time when she was listening in she heard her neighbor say something that was incorrect. Grandma could no longer contain herself, she had to interrupt their conversation and correct whatever was wrong.

When we drove along on those country gravel roads, all of a sudden Grandma would slam on the brakes because she wanted me to see something, such as a pheasant’s nest or perhaps an unusual bird perched on the telephone line. She loved to teach and we had fun.

Grandma loved to sing and recite poetry. I can still see her standing at her “cook” stove, wearing her apron, stirring up something or other, when all of a sudden she jumped up, did an about face, and began singing “I’m a Little Tea Pot.”

And... she was a little teapot. She was short and stout and occasionally she would get all steamed up, where she needed to pour all that was bothering out, then everything was again fine with the world.

From time to time I would invite a friend to the farm, because everyone was always welcome in that farmhouse. Later, when she broke into a chorus of “I’m a Little Teapot” I would be soooo embarrassed. That just wasn’t cool, you know, what was a girl to do? Other than say, “That’s my Grandmother and I love her, just the way she is!”

I now reflect back and think of how endearing she truly was, and how whenever she received something nice she would immediately think of whom she could share that nicety with.

I especially recall the tender evenings of cuddling up next to her as she read countless stories to me. Not a selfish bone in her body, when it came to her grandchildren. Her giving spirit tipped over and poured out, giving me the self-confidence that unconditional love brings.

We all get all steamed up over many various issues. Next time, remember to tip yourself over and pour yourself out by helping someone who needs your attention. Just say, here is my handle and here is my spout, I am ready to pour myself out, helping others to feel loved.

My grandmother died when I was 40 years old. She was just seven weeks from her 90th birthday. I can still feel her presence, while I remember how her skin was so soft and how sweet she always smelled. Someday I will join her in heaven, where we will sing together... “I’m a Little Teapot!”