I best remember my grandmother sitting in a big overstuffed chair, crocheting baby blankets, slippers, afghans, rugs and numerous items for her descendents. She continued crocheting even after she was blinded by glaucoma. None of us realized that she could hardly see and that she was working by feel, counting and instinct.
When my Dad, Bill, would walk in the door from work and see her talking to herself, counting out loud, he would spew out a bunch of numbers. She would start ripping out her most recent row declaring that he had confused her. He didnít realize that she couldnít see and that was the only way she could keep track of her stitches.
Grammy also spent time sitting in that same rocking in the kitchen telling stories to my brother Roger and I. They were true stories that Grammy and her family experienced from the 1800ís until her death in 1975. They were as true as what memory can accurately hold and pass on for 125 years.
After Grammy died, there was no longer a storyteller in the family, and as the years pass, I find that the stories are slipping away. I no longer remember a lot of them and the newest generation has never heard any of the stories. Some of them never even heard of Bessie Kubert. They are still so young.
Before she and her stories are lost to the past forever, I want to pass on the ones we still remember. I would like to thank all the relatives of Bessie Kubert who helped remember our story.
John Rezabek and his 10 children. Bessie is in the top row, far right.