The ties that bind: Grandma Paukert

Last night’s dinner with cousins Barb Smith and Doug Lovejoy brought out shared memories of our Grandma Paukert.
We are among the “junior and senior” first-cousins in the tribe of oh … not sure …. 75? We remember the 1950s, the significance of girls wearing a square scarf folded into a triangle on your head with the knot tied at the chin; we remember the days of BIG cars, drive-ins, saddle shoes, GANT Madras shirts with the back tabs, that were collector’s items for girls. (I wonder if I still have my collection somewhere?)
We have shared memories of Grandma Paukert at that time, the matriarch of a family of 11 who lived her later years in a two-story house in Owatonna, within walking distance of the Catholic church. We “juniors and senior members of the second generation, were preteen or early teens and, although there were few times we were all together as a complete Paukert unit, we enjoyed even the anticipation of each other’s company.
Grandma’s house — the smell of apple butter and old lady; her waddle due to arthritis; her sagging boobs; her dark-colored housedresses; her long, yellow-grey hair, braided and pulled back in a bun; her love of card games, soap operas and never-ending crochet projects.
I don’t remember ever kissing or hugging her — Paukert’s aren’t known for physical displays of affection. I don’t remember her ever telling me stories, after all “hard work” was our mantra. But I remember her home being a place of warmth and safety, a place where family connected.
Every two years, a Paukert family reunion is held, but there’s fear that as the children of Elizabeth pass on (there are only three sisters living,) and as the “senior- and junior-”aged cousins move to retirement, the younger generation (whose numbers are too many to count) may no longer be interested in the Elizabeth-family-ties.
The chain would break.
Too bad … but I guess that’s the way it’s meant to be.
Now, as a grandma, I realize how important it is for me to create my own smells and experiences for my grandchildren … for their children- my great grandchildren- I will most likely only be a string of memories from their parents.