Feb. 2022 my grandparents:
Talking about grandparents and what they were like is so subjective. Ask any of my siblings or cousins, and I am sure you would get different answers than mine. I didn’t spend much time with any of them except for my Grandma Fryer. Born on Mar. 22, 1898, she and her family immigrated to the United States from Cumberland, England in 1913 aboard the Mauritania ship. They landed in New York and took the train to Utah, where she lived the rest of her life. She was a very kind and loving lady who I never bad-mouthed anyone. My ex-husband adored her because she openly loved and respected him. She never once said anything bad about his drinking or smoking.
Now and again, my ex and I would cook a lamb roast and then take dinner up to her home. She was widowed in October of 1966 and lived the rest of her life alone in her house in Deweyville. She was 98 years old when she passed away in April of 1996.
I would stay at her house for about a week almost every summer as a child. I loved it because you could eat whenever you wanted to. Not only was Grandma Fryer a great cook, but they lived on a farm, so one could freely pick from strawberry, raspberry, and black cap bushes. Also, fresh carrots, peas, and tomatoes from the fields. The next-door lady had a cherry tree that grew white cherries, and we could grab a few of those. Then I would climb into a tree in her backyard and leisurely munch on my goodies from the smallest, cutest paper bag ever.
Her husband was a hardworking man who was always busy at something on the farm but never really made much money. They led a more uncomplicated life. He was also quite shy and quiet. Occasionally we got to ride with him on his tractor. That was wonderful. I loved looking at the back of his neck. It was so sunbaked that the skin looked like the surface of a snicker-doodle cookie. His hands were enormous, browned, and well-used. But I never had conversations with Grandpa Fryer. He died of a stroke when I was in junior high school.
My Grandma and Grandpa Bowen lived in the small town just north of Brigham City. That is where my dad was born. We visited them for a few hours nearly every summer, but I never slept over there and didn’t do much with them. I remember my Grandma Bowen was loud and loved to cuss, “Lordy Clark” or “you cock-eyed kids.” She knitted a lot. And she was the only adult who acknowledged that I suffered from acne. She offered some helpful hints like products I should use. Her comments embarrassed me, but she was resolute in stating what was so obvious. Bowens had a bit more money as Grandpa Bowen worked for Utah Power and Light plus had a farm, so Grandma Bowen had the most gorgeous, spacious pink bathroom I had ever seen up to that time.
Grandpa Bowen, and he was the best storyteller. He was funny and full of life. I spent the most time with him when he and my dad drove up to Grand Teton Lodge in the Tetons when I worked there the summer of 1973. They both picked me up to take me home, so I could get ready to go back to school at Utah State University. A couple of times, I did visit Grandpa Bowen while I was at school in Logan. Once, he asked me to please do the genealogy for the family and continue what Grandma Bowen had started. I took a long time fulfilling that promise but I did. (It took the invention of the internet and a company called Ancestry.com, but I think I did a pretty good job).
Grandma Bowen died at 68 years old of a heart attack, so Grandpa Bowen also lived quite a while on his own. He spent the summers in northern Utah and the winters in Arizona, near his oldest daughter. He passed away at the age of 87.
So, all in all, my memories in a nutshell:
Grandma Fryer – she was my best friend, a confidant, a person who loved me no matter what. She seriously never said a mean thing about anyone. Grandpa Fryer was a hardworking quiet man but always kind and smiley.
Grandma Bowen was loud and full of life, living her life to the absolute fullest. She seemed confident and gregarious. Grandpa Bowen was the teaser, the storyteller, the man who may not have known how to show his love the best, but I knew he appreciated and was proud of me.
None of my grandparents were ever mean or cross or hard on me. They were the best examples ever. I have always tried to say nice things, be thankful like the Fryers, live life to the fullest, and say what I mean in an amusing, funny way like the Bowens.
