Ella and Boss: My Agrarian Grandparents of Van Buren County, Iowa

By MaryAnna Bentley

This short nonfiction piece reveals the character of rural Iowa through the eccentricities of loving grandparents. It is a story of agrarian grandparents told by one of their thirteen grandchildren. Though anecdotal in nature, this work somehow reveals a good synopsis of what growing up in Van Buren County, Iowa during the 1980s was really like.

• Language: English
• Publisher: MaryAnna Bentley
• Release date: Feb 6, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458187871

MaryAnna Bentley

MaryAnna Bentley lives in Virginia where she teaches high school. Age and city life have made daydreaming about her rural Iowa childhood a favorite pastime. She may be reached at [e-mail].

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Ella and Boss

My Agrarian Grandparents of Van Buren County, Iowa

Published by MaryAnna Bentley at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 MaryAnna Bentley

Preface/Disclaimer

This short memoir is for my family and everyone who enjoys reading the memories. It is for those family members who remember my grandparents, but especially for those who never had the pleasure of meeting them. I have put together the stories as I remember them. Please keep in mind that many times nothing is ever really the way we remember it. If you knew these fine people and remember things a bit differently, I totally understand. I only recorded these events as I recalled them. No more, no less. I’ve decided to share this work so that my memories can be enjoyed, not criticized or corrected. So if accuracy is your concern, no need to read further. These memories were written down simply for enjoyment.

Chapter 1: Family Gatherings

Birthdays

Nearly every month, my father’s side of the family would gather for a birthday celebration, with the exception of November and December. (If you had a birthday in one of those months you were expected to celebrate along with the Pilgrims or the Christ Child.) It was these celebrations that developed and matured my sweet tooth. Each family would bring a cake and a half gallon of ice cream to Grandpa and Grandma’s house, which meant four different kinds of cake and four different kinds of ice cream since the grandparents always contributed. There we would gorge ourselves, trying every kind of cake and ice cream available. Butterbrickle ice cream and Grandma’s white cake with hickory nuts were always my favorites, though I never turned down the other options. Seconds were encouraged. After all, we were healthy, growing kids who needed nourishment. I’ll never forget packing into my Grandmother’s two bedroom, approximately eight hundred square foot house along with the other twelve grandchildren, all happy as clams at the proposition of multiple servings of cake and ice cream; nor will I ever understand how she managed to raise three children in that space. But somehow, all twenty-one family members managed to survive in those close quarters for our birthday celebrations. Occasionally, we were more than twenty-one when Grandpa’s sister Daisy would come back from California with her daughter, or his