My Great Grandma

Rhoda Mae Olson

February 6, 1915- June 18, 2009

On Thursday, June 18, 2009, my great grandmother passed away peacefully at the age of 94. My family and I had been anticipating this for months now. She lived on her own in the house she purchased with her husband until the age of 93; her health deteriorated quickly after moving from her home, and she expressed many times that she was ready to leave this earth. 

As the oldest daughter of the oldest granddaughter, my great grandmother and I had a close relationship. I always admired her strength, her tenacity, and what I'd call her attitude "full of piss and vinegar." Woo, boy, was that old lady always willing to put up a fight. I recall very clearly a doctor telling us he couldn't figure out why she had such longevity, other than that heaven didn't want her, but hell wouldn't let her in either. It wasn't until listening to the stories traded at her funeral on June 25th that I realized what a trying life she'd led, and why she had that fighting spirit.

In 1960, at 45, she lost her husband to colon cancer, leaving her with three children to finish raising alone. The youngest, my great uncle Mike, was only 4 at the time. She had already lost another son, Doug, several years prior when he drowned in the river. Great Grandma worked two jobs to support her children: as a secretary during the days, and cleaning office buildings at night. She never remarried, but instead devoted her time to family. In 1997, when her grandson was 4, she lost her youngest son to the same disease that took her husband. She far outlived her three siblings, all of her many cousins, and many nieces and nephews. 

A child of the working poor and a product of the Great Depression, my great grandma's devotion to the Democratic Party was fierce enough that it warranted a mention in her obituary. My uncle was a foreman at Kaiser Aluminum, and recalls being heckled  during strikes by his colleagues because his grandmother was out serving doughnuts and coffee to the picketers. I have one very distinct memory of this hallmark. Several Thanksgivings back I was given the duty of ferrying her from her home to my mother's for dinner. As usual, she was standing in the doorway with her hair done, her coat on, and keys in hand waiting for me. Instead of meeting me on the steps, however, she told me to follow her to the back of the house. She giggled as she hobbled through the kitchen. Thinking she wanted to show me something in her bedroom, I was unsure when she instead took me into the bathroom. Over the back of the toilet was taped a picture of then President Bush and Vice President Cheney she'd clipped from the newspaper. I gave her a befuddled look, to which she responded with more laughing. "Well," she said, "that's where I put all the shit!" And my personal favorite, her mantra, "I'd rather have someone in the Oval Office screwing a whore than screwing the nation!" 

Ok, ok, she had a potty mouth. But she abhorred injustice, hypocrisy, and selfishness, and more often than not used that same piss and vinegar to help out the underdog. I have one favorite story to share in memory of this amazing woman. 

When my great uncle Mike was in elementary school, a black family moved into the neighborhood all white neighborhood. Mike immediately befriended the son who was in his class at school. One day the boy knocked on the door, but Great Grandma got there first. He looked nervous and asked shyly, "Ma'am, do you mind if your boy plays with a colored boy?" Great Grandma responded, "Well, I guess it's okay with me so long as your folks don't mind that you play with a Norwegian boy."

Always the politico, Great Grandma took a very active role in the PTA, even while working two jobs. At the first meeting that the new parents in the neighborhood attended, the PTA president made a very large show of asking the father to offer grace before the potluck dinner was served. It became readily apparent, however, that no one was willing to sit at the same table as a black man and wife, particularly that same president. Loudly enough so that all could hear, Great Grandma stood up and said, "Maybe I'm the ignorant SOB here, but I was always taught a person good enough to pray with is good enough to eat with." She moved to sit with her new neighbors. They thanked her for her kind gesture and began to chitchat. Finally, the mother put her fork down and said, "I'm sorry, Rhoda, we don't mind our son playing with yours, but we've just got to know-- what is a 'wegian?"

Now I know I've got more than my fair share of that attitude, and perhaps a bit of the potty mouth no matter how hard I try, but what I truly hope I've inherited from my great grandma (since her smashing figure passed me by long ago) is that same tenacity, the same love and compassion she showed for everyone she met, the willingness to always fight for those I love and what I believe in. Rest in peace, Great Grandma, you could never, ever be forgotten.