Don't Honk. I'm Pedaling As Fast As I Can.

The 1960’s era cherry-red Plymouth (or Dodge or Chevy, I don’t know for certain) was only remarkable for a few reasons that I can recall. First of all, it was owned by my Grandma Hart, and second, because it was always one of the first things we saw parked in her tiny garage when we came to visit her in Pine River. And finally, because the rear bumper was decorated with a bumper sticker that always made me smile, “Don’t honk. I’m pedaling as fast as I can.”

My Grandma had a terrific sense of humor – she laughed at the world, and was also never afraid to laugh at herself. She loved to tell stories and she surrounded herself with things that would make people smile – cartoons all over her refrigerator, quirky knick-knacks and such. She was an artist – painting, sewing, and crocheting were just a few of her many talents. My Grandma was also a lifelong learner – she never stopped having an interest in a wide variety of topics. And she fed her hunger for knowledge with constant books by her side. While Grandma could be completely fantastic through the eyes of a little girl due to her love of dolls, comfort foods, and laughter, she was in fact a very no-nonsense woman with a strong dose of common sense. Grandma was a hero to me and the traits that I so admired in her are things that I try everyday to model in my own life. She taught me so many lessons about being a strong woman and about being a good grandmother. I remember one of the very last times that I visited her in the hospital. A nurse came to check on her while she was sleeping and I was sitting by her bedside. The nurse asked if I was her granddaughter and I nodded. Then, she asked, "how many grandchildren does your grandma have?". The question struck me as I thought for just a moment and then replied “My grandma has many, many grandchildren. But she always made me feel like I was the only one.”  The nurse said “Ah, that sounds like a very good grandma.” Yes. She was. And she continues to teach me lessons even now.

I thought of Grandma one day at work this week, as I was rushing to figure out which priority was truly most important and working to get all the priorities accomplished, scrambling as fast as I can to get it all done. While also thinking about all the holiday tasks that have to be completed at this time of year: gift buying, wrapping, sending cards, entertaining, events, etc.  As everything rolled through my head, I suddenly clearly saw Grandma’s car in her garage and that bumper sticker saying “Don’t honk. I’m pedaling as fast I can”, and I smiled just like I used to do everytime I saw it 30 years ago. I know that if she were here, Grandma would remind me that of course some things NEED to be done, but some of the stuff is just…stuff. It isn't really the priority. She would remind me that this time of year should be about honoring what is really important – remembering all the people who have impacted my life, and loving all the people who are part of my soul. She would tell me to focus on what is important and maybe not to “pedal as fast as I can” but instead, to “pedal only as fast I need to”. There is a difference.

So, thanks Grandma, once again, even after you are no longer here with me, for continuing to teach me lessons. I will keep pedaling through this holiday season, but I plan to pace myself – accomplishing what has to be done while focusing on what is important.  Don’t Honk…I’m Enjoying the Moment.

PS: Because many of my readers are family, I'm sharing the following story with you as a post script. Years ago, I asked Grandma to write me a story about what Christmas was like when she was a little girl and this is what she shared…

"Each year about 3-4 weeks before Christmas, Ma would board a train for Chicago. There, she and Pa would buy our Christmas presents and each year some new tree trimmings. About 2-3 days before Christmas, my brother Leo would get the Christmas tree and set it up in the living room. Then a goose was killed and dressed. Ma usually made our Christmas dresses for the school program and of course knitted stockings, always black. We generally had new shoes ordered from Sears. On the day before Christmas, chores were done early. After supper, the dishes were done and the old tin tub brought in and everyone had a bath, then we hung our stockings and we kids were sent to bed. The older girls scrubbed the kitchen floor with lye soap and a scrub brush, then the tree was trimmed and presents were arranged. We were wakened to come see what Santa brought. I can still see the tree, the top almost touching the ceiling, all the candles lit, and all the gifts around it. One trimming I remember most was a fragile little red bird with a feather tail and if you blew in the beak, it whistled a bird call. One year, my sisters Lillie, Rosalind and I got a fur neck piece to fit over our coats and a muff to match. I remember it most because we were allowed to wear them to school and one evening, we were trudging home through the snow and a neighbor driving a team and wagon with a load of fresh sawed lumber, stopped to give us a ride. When I was boosted up, I leaned on the lumber and got my muff all full of resin from the lumber and got soundly scolded when I got home. Usually in our stockings by the chimney, we had a small bag of candy, an apple and an orange but one year my brother Leo filled our stockings with apple and potato peelings. He got scolded for that! My sister, Bessie, would come with her husband and children for dinner. Then we got to play with our toys while the older ones visited. I always remembered the house where I was born as a big house. Years later, as an adult when I saw it again, I was amazed how small it was and wondered how we all fitted into it!"