A Rant About My Oma

The other day while I was waking up with my coffee, I decided to look at the bag of photo albums I had found in my sister's room. Don't worry, she moved out four months ago, I wasn't taking her stuff. I was cleaning out the rest of the things she left behind so a friend of mine could stay in it. Anyway, there were three albums in the bag and when I opened the first one I saw my Dad's mom, my Oma (grandmother in German) when she and my grandfather visited Teufen, Switzerland, probably back in the seventies, where she went to school. From what I could tell  in the photos she went to an all-girls school called Buserlis, and it had a "brother" school called Rosenbergainer, an all-boys school. But then again I am reading the names from a list typed in either German or Swiss that was in the album with female and male names either under Buserlis or Rosenbergainer, so maybe they were actually brother and sister dorms of the same school. I should ask my father which one is right.

As I looked through my Oma's photo albums I realized that I was looking through something my Oma must have treasured. The two other photo albums were with pictures from when she was a student in Teufen. There were black and white pictures of her with her classmates, some of her posing with a few friends, in costumes or pretty dresses, one with her sitting outdoors in a bathing suit in the summer time, one of her standing in a heavy coat in the winter snow. There were even some pictures of I'm guessing when she first met or married my grandfather. In the other album there were pictures of her and her husband when they visited England. There are pictures of her chatting outside with lots of older adults, sitting in restaurants or standing in front of English homes. From lots of these pictures it seemed my grandmother was very photogenic. She would sometimes be posing, and usually, if not always, she had a big smile on her face. These pictures reminded me of how friendly of a person I remember my Oma.

My Oma was a very social woman. Unlike shy little me, she could go up to anyone and start chatting up a storm. I was always amazed at her whenever I walked around town with her because almost always we would run into someone she knew. And she knew lots of different types of people. Rich, homeless, old, young, everybody! I only wish I could have been as conversational as she was.

One of my favorite memories of my grandmother was back when I was between 4 and 6 years old, Oma lived in a big (and pink!) boarding house across the street from the Arlington Theater. My twin sister and I would take turns every other Friday to spend the night at Oma's place. She would buy ginger cookies and soda, let us watch the Snow White movie from nineteen sixty or seventy-something, and then sleep on this bumpy roll-out foam mattress, and in the morning we would walk to IHOP for breakfast. Those every-other Friday nights were so special and I always looked forward to them.

There are other things I think of when I think about my Oma. She loved Santa Barbara and she loved the ocean. She volunteered as a Receptionist at the Maritime Museum for a few years until she was diagnosed with Dementia. I also got her short gene. When I reached high school I was finally taller than she was. But I'm only 4'11''! And she loved her jewelry. She wore lots of bangle bracelets and rings. She had a dear friend named Nick who was a craftsman, and made all sorts of things for her. He made wood carvings which she kept, and he also made jewelry for her. Gold and silver rings and bracelets with stones of all kinds. She never pierced her ears, though. And she had a heart for the needy. She visited the sick and fed them and kept them company. I really think my Oma was someone to look up to. And, come on, she was an adorable elderly lady!

As I mentioned earlier, she was diagnosed with Dementia. She was living independently at the time, but when the Dementia started kicking in she barely remembered to feed herself. So my Dad and my aunts had her move into a senior home where she could be taken care of as the Dementia got worse. I only visited her as long as she remembered me, but after a couple years she forgot who my sister and I were, and then she forgot my Dad and my aunts, and then she forgot a lot of other things, so I was told. Before she forgot who I was, my Dad took me to visit her at the home, but she was asleep when I was there. My Dad didn't want to wake her, so I asked my Dad if he could ask someone at the front desk for paper and a pen, and I wrote her a letter, updating her about my life and telling her that I missed her. I'm told she read it and kept the letter for a while. That was the last time I saw her. In August 2011 she passed away. I was on my way to visit a friend in San Luis Obispo, and I was more than half way there when I got the text from my Dad about my Oma's passing. I cried while I drove the rest of the way, and my friend and I sat while I shared some of my favorite memories of my Oma.

My Oma was part of the Neptune Society, which was a, well, society, I guess, and people who join are cremated after they die, and they have their ashes spread in the ocean. A year after she passed, my sister, Dad, aunts and their husbands, and I, took a boat less than a mile from shore to spread her ashes in the ocean she enjoyed so much. It was funny, we didn't realize until we were already out at sea that in order to open the box with her ashes we would need a screw driver. None of us had brought one, and after a minute of mild panic the guy who owned and drove the boat gave us one from his tool kit. We, well actually, my Dad, aunt Rita, and I (the other's got the heeby jeebies about touching someone's ashes) spread her ashes and a few flowers and shells into the ocean. And when we finished I felt that my Oma was finally at peace, in her desired resting place, which she loved so much. It was just fitting for my Oma.

I'm a sentimental girl who loves to keep things that belonged to relatives and loved ones. You know how when you were a kid walking through your grandparents' house you would stop and look or touch the many knick knacks they would have on display? My grandmother (my Mom's Mom) had a collection of tea cups and thimbles I loves to play with. One thing that I have of my Oma's that I used to love playing with and holding in the sunlight is a crystal paperweight shaped in a heart. I keep it on top of one of my bookshelves under my bedroom window where it can catch the morning sunlight. I've placed it next to a picture of my Oma that was taken by a professional photographer before she was put in the senior home. After she had died my dad's side of the family got together to divy up the thngs she left behind, like her jewelry. Because my grandmother and I had small hands, I got to keep one of her rings that fit me. It was a ring I believe her friend Nick made for her. It was made of gold and shaped like a rose. I wear it every once in a while if I feel like keeping my grandmother close to me. And I will look at this last picture of her to remember what a kind, friendly, and smiley woman my Oma was. I miss her and her stories and I just felt like ranting about her today.