The Mormor Stories: Don't Bet Against a Stubborn Swede

(Photo stolen from Paul-W on Flickr)

I can't believe it was a year ago yesterday that I first thumbed through my grandmother's folder of her true life stories in order to type one up for this blog.  It's been a labor of love, presenting these tales I've grown up with, nearly one story a week for the past year.  And yet I have learned a lot of new things, too, as I have researched to try to fill in the gaps or choose pictures to accompany her words.  I hope my readers have enjoyed reading Mormor's stories as much as I have enjoyed sharing them.

This story of Mormor's bridges a childhood memory and a grown-up one. It reminds me how stubborn, resilient, and kind she was as a grandmother; she apparently had these qualities as a young parent, too.

We are very near the end of her tales of childhood in California's redwood country, and will soon venture into memories from her adult life.

My father liked both his paper and his snuff so I'd often have to go to the store at Dyerville after school for both of the above.  On one trip I was admiring the new bicycle that Christmas had brought to Donald Morton (of which he was very proud) when he offered to teach me to ride it.

Lesson number one was nicely begun when along drove Mr. Nichols, our next door neighbor, in his shiny new automobile.  Seeing me so far from home later in the day, he offered me a ride home.  Torn between two happy choices, I finally chose the car.  It did have such nice-smelling leather seats.

Years went by and it was our son who had a bicycle which he used for delivering papers.  One day I told him about my earlier aborted lesson and how I'd always felt that I could have learned to ride a bike that day.  Mal happily bet me 50¢ (he was in the money because of his paper route) that I couldn't ride his bike over to the school and then go in and out and around the basketball standards two times in that same afternoon.  Of course I took the dare but neglected to ask how to brake the thing.  So the first thing I did was to tumble end over Sunday on the neighbor's lawn when I tried to use the curb for a brake.  Suffice to say I recovered from that as well as Mal's laughter, rode the bike over to the school, and then in and out the standards; all this under my son's watchful eyes.

I collected the 50¢ and reminded Mal never to underestimate the power of a woman, especially that of a country gal.

Needless to say I sent him on little errands the next week until the 50¢ was back in his pocket.

All of Mormor's stories to date are on the side bar categories under "The Mormor Stories."  To start at the beginning of my grandmother's stories, click here.

Comments

[imom]

I love Mormor's stories. I really regret not writing down my Grandparents stories. I have a lot of photos but no stories about them. It's sad.

[Kyddryn]

I just adore your Mormor...

Shade and Sweetwater,
K

[Suzanne]

Such a cute story...I love it.
She was a gifted story teller that is for sure.

[Steph]

I appreciate the Mormor stories more than I can say. They make me wish I'd spoken more to my own grandparents when I had the chance.

[Chesapeake Bay Woman]

I love these stories too. You're so fortunate she wrote things down. There's so much I don't know about my grandparents.

My new favorite expression as of reading this is, "end over Sunday." It's more polite than our traditional "a$$ over teakettle."

[MommyTime]

I love this story! The Mormor stories are really fascinating. I wish my own grandmothers had written their stories down too. I have my great-grandmother's diary, which is fascinating, but it only lasts a year and a half, and it makes me long for MORE more MORE so I could get to know a woman I never knew.