A Strong but Gentle Lady

Three weeks ago, Ada passed from this earth, thus ending 97 years of a well-lived life that began on July 8, 1909 in Bertha Minn. 00000000000 (Ada as baby -->)

These past four years Ada has lived in her own little world. A world from which you could pull her out for a quiet greeting or a dimpled smile. However, not for long. She was happy in there.

Perhaps she was remembering the years that brought her to this place.

Her Papa moved the family to McCall, Washington when she was five. Her Uncle convinced them there was "gold" growing on the the hills in Eastern Washington. He was a wheat rancher and the yield was filling the coffers.

Unfortunately, Ada's papa made a poor choice, ended up with scabland, and was not able to support them. She would walk with her sisters down the railroad tracks and fill her apron with coal that had fallen from the passing trains so they could heat and cook in the little shack she shared with her parents and five siblings.

Her older brother was quite the fiddle player and she looked forward to Saturday nights when his little dance band would be invited to a local grange hall or school. Ada would dance until she fell asleep in a chair and wake up in the arms of one of the older kids on the way home.

After several years of barely surviving, the family moved to the west side of the Cascade Range that was much more like their Minnesota homeland. That was where she completed high school.

Ada was bright and motivated. "Normal School" and an opportunity to obtain a teaching certificate wooed Ada back to the East side where she completed her education at Cheney. (The school is now Eastern Washington University.)

A lovely young single woman was exactly what was required for a one-room schoolhouse in the small farming community of Prescott. Ada took the job and moved into a tiny teacher's cottage. She didn't expect that first year so many of her students would be close to her age. She handled it with grace.

Prescott was another community that enjoyed the impromptu Saturday night community dances. That is where she met Clarence, a local farm hand, and fell madly in love. Love was not an option in her teaching contract. **She'd signed a commitment on the dotted line to remain single.

However, she and her handsome beau snuck away the day after school was out and drove hours away to John Day, Oregon and wed. No one else knew of the pairing, so she returned to her teaching job that fall. On weekends, she would drive into the Marcus Whitman Hotel in Walla Walla, Washington to meet her Clarence. Living apart and meeting in secret kept their marriage under wraps for two years.

About this time, Clarence accepted an offer to join the growing work crew hired to build the Grand Coulee Dam on the Columbia River. Ada, having something under construction of her own, resigned her job and joined Clarence in the little boom town of Coulee City. Their daughter Dee was born. Two boys would follow.

Ada temporarily put aside her teaching career to stay at home with her kids. They remember the monthly camping trips where the "men" fished in the Sandpoil River. Ada would pack up their old car with household goods and be ready when Clarence got home from work. Away they would rattle until they found a spot to set up camp. She didn't have any camping equipment. She just made do.

Camp started out with a fire and a pot of beans that stewed the entire outing. Beans and biscuits for breakfast. Beans, fresh bread and potatoes for lunch. Beans, fresh trout, and a vegetable packed neatly in one of her boxes for dinner. She would take the kids into the hillside and pick wild strawberries that she served miraculously with whip cream after the other tins were cleaned up. They didn't know how she did it.

She returned to teaching when the kids grew older. After losing her dear Clarence in 1965 she felt there was nothing left for her in Coulee City, so she moved to Wenatchee. She taught school another 10 years there before retiring.

Ada loved to garden. She paid particular attention to her roses, which were gorgeous.

Ada loved to bake. Her grandchildren remembered her comfortable little house smelling like Apple Pie, which had perfect pastry that no other person could duplicate. A special day would end with her holding them close as she walked them to their perfectly laid out bed that smelled of floral sachet. She would always hum a little tune and sing the words, "dum de dum de dum."

Her loved ones all own a hand-made Ada original quilt. She taught her granddaughters to crochet and do needlepoint. Even though she was a perfectionist, the lessons were patient and loving. As adults, they now realize those were personal virtues she was attempting to instill in their young lives.

Ada was serious about her card games. A small table was always set up for a game of 'peck.' Dimes, nickels, or whatever change you had in your pocket would be the stakes. Her daughter Dee still has the winnings from the last game she was able to play with 'mom' those four or so years ago. It sits in a buffet drawer along with a very used deck of cards.

The great grandchildren only know her as a small and fragile woman with soft hands that stroked their heads with a glance of longing.

As we sat in the funeral home several weeks ago to say goodbye to the hubby's step grandmother I watched a little curly haired sprite sneak out of the mourner's room to stand beneath a lovely spray of roses. The little girl stretched up on her tippy toes, first to touch the red bud, then to pull it closer to her nose to take a sniff.

I imagined Ada would be smiling.