Why I have hope

Gramps's Ladders

If you haven’t read Paperdolls,¹ here is a brief overview of my profound relationship with my maternal grandparents:

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A Tough Life

My grandparents had it tough. Immigrants to a country who didn’t want them, even ostracized them. Fleeing back to their homeland for a brief reprieve before realizing the threat of Hitler was not merely a threat—and getting out before the Nazi’s took over. Then, proceeding to adjust and build a good life, in spite of enormous hardships and challenges.

My grandfather worked physical, manual labor jobs (in-spite of his high education and abilities—in America he was a low class immigrant). My grandmother meticulously managed their finances with the astute abilities of a financial guru and raised well educated children and kept a clean, beautiful home.

My grandparents loved Art

When they weren’t working with a work ethic that would put most adhering to the Puritan work ethic to shame—they sang in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, attended symphonies, Art Galleries, learned new languages and filled their minds with knowledge, truth, and beauty.

As I watched them connect to the souls of so many others via their music and their art, I learned that “with art we are not alone.”

Roses

Roses are very popular in Norway. My grandparents had a lovely rose garden. As a young girl, I have fond memories of my grandmother teaching me how to prune them, for the fullest growth. I still remember her adage that roses are like everything beautiful in life. They protect themselves with their thorns, so they can grow freely.

After my grandmother passed, I moved into the upstairs apartment in their home. I continued to tend to my grandmother’s roses. As the years progressed, I started adding my own touches to the garden. I put a couple of Trellis’s in, for the climbing roses to arch above the walkways.

climbing red roses on a trellis

A couple of months ago, one the the trellis’s broke. I propped the large climbing roses up and began to search for a new trellis. I found several lovely trellis’s, but nothing that felt right. I was concerned that the weight of the climbers would break. I knew I had to settle on something. Then, I saw Gramps’s ladders. I hauled them outside, and instantly knew I found the right Trellis.

Gramps’s Ladders:

My grandfather’s ladders.

I’ve used his ladder’s for years. They are about a hundred years old now. When I redid the house in 2008, a friend was helping me clean out the basement. He started to put them in the dump pile. I stopped him and said, “Oh no you don’t!”

He looked at me like I was nuts. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “This wood is old, I hope you aren’t planning on using them to paint the ceilings.”

Eventually, I put them together, and placed art and my most cherish memorabilia on them. At the center, I placed my mother’s paper doll (the one the book is named after).

When my co-author died, her daughter brought me a large bouquet from the funeral. I moved a few items around, and placed the flowers on those ladders:

Flowers from Carol’s grave

This angle shows the ladders more. Paperdolls: Healing from Sexual Abuse in Mormon Neighborhoods is on the bottom shelf, and the flowers from Carol’s grave is on the top shelf. I blurred out some of the images that show my loved ones faces and identifying details.

Converting Gramps’s Ladders to the Rose Trellis

I thought of doing it myself, but I didn’t want to break the existing climbing rose bushes—or the antique ladders. I called my niece, the one who was born a month after my brother died. I explained the situation, and asked if I could recruit the help of her very tall and adorable children.

Two of my niece’s sons and her youngest daughter came over. I told them the story of their great-great-grandfather’s ladders.

Gramps used these ladders for his work and to build a “good life.”²

I’ve already told ‘em about their escape from Norway, their struggles, singing voices, love of art and such. They didn’t realize that those old ladders in my display room were my grandfather’s actual work ladders.

When they were close to finishing, I snapped a pic. One of my great nephew’s said, “Wait they don’t look good enough yet.”

My niece’s youngest daughter, Gramps’s great, great grand-daughter exclaimed, “They look amazing, especially if you know the story!”

And, that’s why I have hope.

I promised my niece I’d blur out her children’s faces. I would have even if I didn’t promise. Privacy is privacy after all. But, as you can see, Henry was part of all the fun.

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1. Subscribers can purchase Paperdolls & Cowboy Boots at significantly reduced rates here: —Paid subscribers can order it at cost.
If you don’t want to subscribe here, you can purchase Paperdolls & Cowboy Boots at your local book store or order from various online retailers.

2. Build a “good life” was one of my grandfather’s mantras