My Gramma Wade (Hazel Marie Bishop Wade 1900-1992)

Pictured above are Mom, holding Jimmy; Mom's grandmother, Belle Bishop, with her hands on Kay's shoulders; and Gramma holding me. It's August, 1953.

My Gramma Wade is my hero. I believe she was a truly remarkable woman who overcame many hardships in her 92 years. I admire her, though she had a few prickly habits that I’d like to avoid.

Me and Grampa Wade, 1953.
He died when I was 7 and I have almost no memories of him
(Notice desk behind him. Look for it in a 1982 photo of Gramma below.)

Gramma and her siblings. Back: Brothers Ray, Lester, and Paul Bishop.

Seated: Gramma and sister Mona Bishop.

In Wings & Roots, Gramma told stories of her younger self and her predecessors. I’d like to add some that I recall from my memories of her. The first one is:

Family Names

Gramma was a feminist long before it was a known political position. In about 1980, my little sister Jill, Gramma and I went to Iowa to visit her daughter and our aunt, Rita, in Des Moines.  Conversation on the trip was the first time I learned that Gramma was opposed to women accepting their husband’s names. I was shocked! Such a thing was unheard of in quiet, conservative, patriarchal South Dakota! Gramma had thought that even before she got married herself.

 Mom, Gramma holding me, Great Gramma Bishop, Rita Belle Wade Wood 
(Mom's sister)  .Jimmy, Kay, cousin Donna Wood and Beverly Wood.

Gramma explained further one evening at Rita’s. “It is simply more sensible,” she said, “to combine the two names. Otherwise, following women genealogically is often quite difficult.”

Well. What a surprise. Gramma went on, “Your grandfather and I should have created one new name for the two of us and our children. Our name should have become, ‘Biwade.’ A combination of ‘Bishop’, and ‘Wade.’ “ (Probably not hyphenated, or she would have said so. Gramma was thorough.)

Actually, it makes a lot of sense. They first people I knew who actually did that were graduate school friends who combined “Warp” and “Maeker”, to name themselves, “Warpmaeker.” That was in 1998. They were only 70+ years behind Gramma.

Let’s see, that would have made my mother - Wadeling? And Rita might have been Wawood. Well, maybe some of those need a little work, but Gramma was willing.

Gramma never let herself be circumscribed by conventional thinking or customs. She was her own woman, and looked at life that way.

Gramma, holding me, and her grandchildren.
From the top: Donna Wood, Bev Wood, Jimmy, Kay.

As you can clearly see in these photos, Gramma adored her grandchildren. What wonderful knowledge!

Hardships

Gramma’s life included the 1930s - The Great Depression, The Dust Bowl. She was living in Iowa at that time, with three children and a semi-invalid husband.

Grampa Wade served in World War I as a machine gunner. That war was marked by widespread use of trenches. To attack trenches, various types of hazardous, or even deadly gasses were used as weapons. Grampa survived one such attack of either chlorine or mustard gas. However, his health was permanently compromised, so the heaviest burdens of raising the children, caring for Grampa, maintaining the home, and making money all fell on Gramma. What seems like such an overwhelming load is something she managed with grace and an extraordinary stock of perseverance.

During The Great Depression, men frequently wandered about the country, searching for a way to live and perhaps, find value for their lives again. (There were no safety nets of any kind at that time. Churches and other charities did what they could, but it was far from enough.)

Hoboes caught rides illegally on freight trains.

 The men traveling about the USA, called hoboes, were absolutely poverty-stricken, and looked it. (Today’s homeless people are a good example.) They begged handouts or pledged to work for food at the homes they passed.  Many were illiterate, or spoke a different language, usually Eastern or Northern European. Hoboes created a system of signs to indicate which places treated them decently and respectfully. (Keep in mind that unemployment hovered around 30%, much higher in some areas.)

Hoboes were generally uneducated and so used symbols to communicate with others coming after them. The images were carved into gates or fences around the homes. One of their signs was a cat. It signified a kind woman whom they could count on to treat them respectfully and offer them something.

Gramma’s yard gate was carved with the image of a cat.

Even though they had little, Gramma always managed to put together some kind of sandwich for them. Shooing away struggling fellow human beings, as many did, was not an option that Gramma even considered. Helping those in need was simply a part of her faith, a part of herself.

School Teacher

When Gramma began teaching, prior to 1920, she rode a horse to a one room school. In the winter, Gramma had to get there early enough to start the fire in the potbellied stove and put the drinking water bucket on top so the ice would melt. She used every inch of her five foot height to face down boys who were near her age, up to a foot taller, and 100 pounds heavier. Gramma had no principal or superintendent for help with discipline issues. It was all hers to manage. Gramma was indomitable.

Gramma cared about her students, cared enough to be tough with them, to have high expectations, and to push them to meet those standards. Gramma did most of her teaching in elementary schools. Her students regularly won spelling contests, speaking and writing competitions, and other events.

When Gramma was in her 60s, she coached junior high boys basketball in the tiny town of Bancroft, SD. (There is no longer a school there.) A woman coaching boys on any level was highly unusual, but not for Gramma. She emphasized fundamentals, and when those boys were in high school they amassed outstanding records and won two state championships.

Grief and Anger

Grampa Wade died in 1960, when Gramma was 60 years old. I have almost no memories of him. Gramma went on without him for 32 years. I don’t believe she ever dated or had any kind of romantic relationship in those years. I wonder if she took, “Till death do us part,” to include her death also?

I can’t really say what Gramma’s coping mechanisms were. She was notoriously tight-lipped about such things. She didn’t talk about her inner life, she demonstrated it. What I saw was her keeping very busy. Her faith was a central part of her life, and I think that went a long way in sustaining her.

When Grampa died, Gramma was teaching in Highmore, SD. Gramma continued to teach until she was 70, when she was forced to retire. At that time, she was teaching in St. Lawrence Grade School, in St. Lawrence, SD.  My siblings and I attended that school.

Gramma continued to do fine needlework, write, and be politically active. In 1978 I wrote a continuing education paper for history credits, about trench warfare in World War I. I used Gramma as a resource, and she was very good. She gave me a copy of one of the letters she had written to the federal government regarding WWI benefits and payments.

Mom's aunt Dorothy and first husband Ralph in his WWI uniform.

Gramma remained quite angry about that. The enlistees of WWI included Grampa. They were to receive a certain amount of pay and bonuses when they came back home. Those benefits never materialized. If you check out WWI history, you will find information about the WWI Bonus Marchers. They were WWI veterans who were forced to march on Washington, DC, to get the money that was due them. They still didn’t get it. In fact, they were chased out by the US Military. (Gramma and Grampa did not personally take part in the march, though Gramma said she supported it.)

Gramma believed that an individual ought to keep her promises. It angered her very much that the government made such promises to men, in exchange for them risking their very lives, and then reneged. Some of the energy of Gramma’s grief was turned to that cause. I’m sure, with Grampa’s illness and the terrible struggles of The Great Depression, that money was sorely needed.

Many of the things Gramma said and did, reflected a healthy level of anger. She lived in situations and times that called for anger: Unfairness, dishonesty, sexism. These and more made Gramma feel angry. In her wisdom, Gramma put the energy of that anger to use in constructive ways. She worked to make changes in those systems. Gramma engaged the girls in her classes, encouraging them to reject limits on their futures. She was politically active via letter-writing and talking with neighbors. Gramma was never afraid to speak up.

One of the most valuable lessons I learned from Gramma is to take the energy of anger, which can too frequently become destructive, and use it in constructive practices and behaviors. It has served me well.

The Intimidator

Gramma had The Look. It felt like death to be on the receiving end of The Look! With that one Look, Gramma could inspire fear, shame, terror, a sense of utter failure. Words were unnecessary. She had exacting standards, and we grandchildren, though beloved by her, were also expected to do our best to measure up. Gramma could be so stern. There isn’t much more need be said about that.

Appearances

One of the interesting contradictions of Gramma is that, unconventional as she was, she was concerned with outside appearances.

Christmas, 1982, at the Heinzerling place.
(Same desk as Grampa Wade photo, 30 years later. Still around in 2000s.)

I’m not talking about dressing fashionably, or wearing the right clothes. But Gramma insisted on being nicely dressed, wearing clean, appropriate clothing. She felt it was very important to speak in a pleasant voice. As Gramma got older, she developed some balance issues that sometimes affected her walking. She might veer out of a straight line. She frequently refused to go out in public because she was afraid she might stagger, and onlookers would think that she was drunk.


Gramma was very much a teetotaler. She felt strongly that alcohol was a harmful thing that ought to be avoided. I never asked her, but I’m guessing she supported Prohibition. On the other hand, Gramma had no problem with tobacco smoking. She claimed to enjoy the smell of a good cigar.

My parents hid any alcohol when Gramma visited. There was little alcohol in our home anyway. There were usually a couple of pint bottles of liquor hidden in Dad’s sock drawer. (Yes, we children snooped whenever the opportunity arose.) Sometimes there was beer in the refrigerator. It was always hidden when Gramma came, until the 1970s or 80s when her grandchildren, including me, drank beer too. The turning point for me was seeing her son, Wes, drinking beer in front of her. Of course, he was at least in his 30s at the time. After that, beer made is illicit appearance in our refrigerator, and stayed there when Gramma visited.

1980

Gramma and I

Gramma was very strong-willed. So am I. As you might guess, we had clashes. Mom used to say that it was, in part, because we were so much alike. Gramma believed that there were certain conventions one ought to adhere to. I believed no one was going to tell me what to do. Mix + shake well = conflict.

We were both teachers, both athletes, both feminists, both politically active, both averse to restrictions placed on us by others, both intelligent and well-educated.

I’m sure it’s clear by now, that I have great love and respect for my Gramma Wade. I wish she could have been a little less intense on some occasions. Some flexibility here and there would have been nice. I wish I had been less stubborn and more open to her hard-earned wisdom. I am grateful beyond words to be her granddaughter, to be the beneficiary of such a strong and powerful legacy.

Gramma was what she was - Complex, determined, smart, unconventional, wise, incredibly hard-working, contradictory, loving, short-tempered. I loved her. I love her still. 

G.A.R. Cemetery, Miller, SD