Grandma Josephine: Upper Hood River Valley and Days Gone by
I was born and raised in the Colorado Desert of Southern California. The thermometer hanging in the shade behind our house, routinely read 125 to 132 F on the hottest days. We so-called "desert rats" had our ways of coping with these extremes. In 1966, I stopped coping. I was nine and my world came to a screeching halt when Mother passed away. Dad had to threaten a spanking every morning to get me out of bed. Oh, I'd make it to the bus and my fourth grade class, but I walked in a fog. Or maybe, it was a blinding sand storm, and the shifting whispering sands were seeping into my bones and filling in the oasis where my heart once lived. I was parched to my soul. I began to think of Grandma, my mother's mother. Grandmother had two green thumbs. She could just look at something and it would grow! She had rose gardens and plum trees. We had creosote and mesquite. She had a front yard full of green grass. We had bleached sand. Grandma's heart was deep as a well. I came out of my fog long enough to request that my father take me to Grandma. This he granted and once a month we would spend a whole weekend - a hundred miles away in Yucaipa - with Grandma. One day, my father mentioned that my grandmother was born before the turn of the century. I suddenly realized just how old she was! Grandma had such an eternal presence about her that her age never occurred to me, even though we celebrated her birthdays. Now, Grandma had a date of 1896 associated with her. She had been there for cowboys and Indians and genuine original horsepower. I flooded her with questions about her life at my age. Grandma said, "I will tell you about our family history so you will not be lost, without roots." This book is a collection of those wonderful stories.