Nana

My mother's mother was already known to our family as "Nana" by the time I was born. I had no grandfather on that side of the family. Nana had left an abusive marriage when my mother was a very little girl. Then she raised my mother and my uncle Bill as a single mother through the long, hard years of The Great Depression and the events leading up to World War II. She had been born to a large family in Wisconsin. Her parents were both German immigrants and lived a very difficult life trying to gain a foothold in this young nation. She and some of the older siblings had to be "hired out" to other families as domestic helpers or farm workers in order to assist their parents in bringing in the necessary income for the large family to survive financially. Although they were very bright and intellectually gifted, these children lacked the opportunity for the education they deserved. When the Mormon missionaries came to their little town, they found "fertile soil" with this family who accepted their message and joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. This action on the part of their family brought about a great deal of persecution, perpetrated upon them by those who should have been friends, neighbors and fellow Christians. This large German family decided to leave Wisconsin and go to the west where fellow "saints" in their new faith had gathered. The transcontinental railroad had recently been completed making the long journey much quicker and safer than it had been for the pioneers just a few years earlier. Sustaining life for a large family was still very hard on the frontier of the American west. The demands of getting an education, learning vocational skills and earning enough for a meager existence occupied so much of her time that my grandmother, Helena Alvina Sommerkorn, had little time to devote to her religion as she arrived at a marriageable age. At the point when she needed the guidance of Heaven the most, she was the least prepared to seek and receive it. She had caught the eye of a returned (World War I) soldier who did not share her faith or religious commitment. When he pleaded for her to marry him, she said "Oh, I guess so." She had been taught to live by her word, so she followed through with her "promise." He proved to be unfit for marriage. He was an alcoholic with a temper who could not keep a job to provide for his wife, a son and then a daughter (my mother). This young mother took her two precious little children and left that situation with the help of her family. Her commitment to living according to her faith was rekindled. It grew and strengthened and she would never abandon nor neglect that faith again all the rest of her life, no matter what challenges she would encounter. As a single mother of two children, she worked all the rest of her life and never remarried. She devoted herself to raising her children with honor and dignity. She excelled as a seamstress and as an educator. She served as a "live at home" missionary for the church and also became an accomplished genealogist. Her testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ became the foundation she built her life upon. By the time I was born in 1956, Nana had raised her two children to adulthood. My Uncle Bill became a colonel in the Strategic Air Command for the U.S. Air Force. My mother had married my dad at the opening of World War II and was now the mother of four sons. Nana lived and worked on the campus of the Utah School for the Deaf and Blind in Ogden, Utah. She worked as a resident house mother there. At that time, deaf or blind children moved away from their families to be educated at this school. Sometimes we would go visit her at this school when I was very young. A little later she found an apartment nearby on Jefferson Avenue and we would go visit her there. Nana walked everywhere she went or took the bus. She never owned a car or learned to drive. She owned a black and white television (the only kind there was back then) and we would go visit for Friday night movie time as a family. Our family did not own a TV yet, so this was a special treat for us. Nana also came to visit us out in Riverdale on special occasions. She would take the bus from Ogden to Riverdale and get off where our street, "Kid Lane," intersected Riverdale Road about two blocks away. We children would sit on the front lawn atop our hill and watch for the bus to stop. Soon a little, slightly bow-legged lady would get off the bus with her hand bag and begin walking toward our home. Her small silhouette and the way she walked made her unmistakeable, even from a distance. Then we would run down the hill and down the street as fast as we could to meet her and walk the rest of the way back with her. Oh, how we loved her! Even now, the sweet and tender memories cause tears to well up in my eyes. At Christmastime, Nana got to sleep on the fold-down couch out in our living room by the fireplace. We children were so envious of her. She could be right in the same room with Santa Clause when he came down the chimney! For some reason, she always slept right through the whole thing. WE could hardly sleep at all that night. Nana always made lots of nice clothes for us. She could sew almost anything and didn't even need a pattern. She just measured us with her tape measure and made it to fit. When I went to the First Grade, she made me a brand new shirt with an apple sewed on the pocket. She made our Christmas pajamas each year and she even made a beautiful bath robe for me to take on my mission when I was nineteen. Nana loved jig saw puzzles in her older years, so I sent her a huge puzzle of the city of Aalesund where I was a missionary in Norway. She put it all together so it could be framed and hung on our wall when I got home. It still graces our home to this very day. When I gaze upon it, I have fond memories of Nana and of my mission. When I returned from my mission, Nana was older and much more feeble than she had been. We moved her into our home so we could take care of her. I was in college and doing construction work to pay my way through school. Nana was placed in my bedroom so I could attend to her needs when she had to get up in the night to go to the bathroom. (I was a light sleeper.) You may think that I may have resented this as a burden at this busy stage of my life; but I felt honored to be able to give back to her even a tiny fraction of what she had given for me. Before long, I graduated from college, married and began full-time employment. I no longer lived at home. Within a year, our first daughter, Amy, was born and we took her to see my sweet, kind Nana, who was now confined to a bed. Nana got to see and touch our precious little girl who had so recently come from heaven above. A month later, Nana returned to heaven herself. A new generation had come and a former one had passed. I have no doubt that Nana inhabits a place of honor now among the generations of our past. Her life was hard, but she proved herself faithful. Her legacy has blessed, and will continue to bless her posterity into eternity. Now my own mother lives with us in our home at the same age as Nana was when I helped care for her at the end of her mortal journey. In a year she will have surpassed the length of time that Nana was with us upon the earth. I can see Nana in the face of my mother and again feel honored to have the privilege of giving just a little back to my mother who has done so much for me. Some day, all the generations of our family will be joined together once again and I shall embrace those who went before me and tell them of my gratitude for the legacy they left me. 

Terry Stephens