My grandmother’s funeral was last weekend. Traveling to Nevada to attend and leaving my camera behind have prevented regular posts here. Luckily, Mom was able to send the photos I took while I was there.


The funeral was Saturday. Mom asked me to write a bit about Grandma for the pastor. Somehow, that turned into me giving the eulogy. In addition to her history, I had plenty of material; I was so flooded with memories and emotion when she died, I started writing it all down. Piecing together a eulogy that was both suitable for public and something I could read without sobbing hysterically was the hard part.


Grandma had Alzheimer’s for 19 years. She was really bad (basically nonverbal with absolutely no recollection of who she was, much less who we were) for about the last 6 of those. During that time, we all said goodbye in some way. When she passed, we knew it was for the best–she was finally at peace. None of that made things any easier though.

I’m not trying to idolize my grandmother when I say she was the very best woman. She was insanely generous and incredibly smart. She loved her family and every student she taught. She was a saint…I can seriously offer you no fault other than maybe her blind love or her selfless nature.



Giving her eulogy was a bit fateful for me. My first public speaking experience was when I was 10. It was Grandma’s retirement party and I was asked to represent the grandkids. Over-confident and unversed in the art of public speaking, I did pretty much nothing to prepare. As soon as I took the microphone, I was completely overwhelmed, burst into tears and ran off the stage. I was so ashamed that I had embarrassed myself and, more importantly, that I had failed to honor Grandma. Being able to speak about her at her funeral was my chance to redeem myself and honor her properly.


I was worried I’d not make it through since I’m such a crybaby. I practiced at least a dozen times to make sure I could speak the words aloud without choking through sobs. I just kept remembering the time Grandma spanked me for being a crybaby. She was my first grade teacher and I was kind of a whiny brat. One day, not too long into the school year, Grandma had had enough. She pulled me to the side, gave me a swift spanking and told me to ‘cut it out, no one liked a crybaby’. I’d like to say I straightened up completely after that, but I’m sure it took a bit to break the habit of crying about every little thing (sometimes I don’t think I’ve come far at all). Regardless, her words stuck with me. And, I knew Grandma would want me to be strong as I delivered her eulogy.


I wasn’t the only one who was spanked by Grandma. It was a different time, after all. She taught with a firm hand and had high expectations. Mostly though, she had a generous heart for her students. Especially those who needed a little extra time or a little extra attention. Even her spankings were because she loved you and wanted you to do well. You knew that if Grandma was upset with you, you must have done something terribly wrong. She taught for over 30 years, walking through the desert to school every day. The path she created is still sort of there if you look for it–it was such a well-worn path, it remains even 20 years later.

You’ve probably been wondering why a Texas Sheet Cake if Grandma lived in Nevada. Grandma was actually a West Texas gal who moved to Nevada in her 30’s. With the exception of one year in El Paso, she lived in pretty much every small town within a 50 mile radius of Lubbock.


I’m hyper intrigued by her college years. She was basically Miss Texas Tech. She played basketball, sang in the choir, volunteered in the Red Cross, participated in the Baptist Student Ministry and was President of her dorm. She was…involved, to say the least. She was also courted quite a bit. Apparently, she was madly in love with a Chinese foreign exchange student (if you’d met my grandfather, you would understand my surprise at this). Her parents shot that relationship down pretty quickly; they were worried she’d move with him to China and they’d never see her again. Then, supposedly, a handsome man from a well-to-do West Texas family (oil money, no doubt) courted her pretty fiercely. She turned him down because she just wasn’t that into him.


She met my grandfather in a diner her first year out of college. He was not college educated. In fact, he probably had a GED since he went to the Korean War when he was 15 (he lied about his age). What Grandpa didn’t have in degrees though, he made up for with charm, good looks and a big heart (it’s from him I get my sensitivity). He was a sweet talking cowboy and won Grandma over in no time. They were married a few months later.


It’s stuff like this I wish I could have asked her about. I was in my late teens when Grandma’s Alzheimer’s started getting bad. There are so many questions I’ve wanted to ask her. About teaching, about her college years, about growing up in a small Texas town. I wish I had paid attention when I was younger. I wish I had asked the right questions. By the time those things were important to me, my window had passed.

What I did learn from Grandma, I learned from being with her so much when I was little. Ours is a big family. Grandma and Grandpa had 5 children. From them, there are 15 grandchildren and 8 great grandchildren. When we were little, it was not uncommon for Grandma to have us all over for the weekend (then, there were about 9 of us), sleeping on floors, couches and piled in beds. It didn’t matter that she’d spent all week teaching 20 kids—she wanted her grandchildren around.


When we’re young, we don’t appreciate much. I didn’t realize how lucky we grandkids were. Grandma’s door was always open. She wanted us around, she took us places, she taught us. Though our parents did fine jobs, Grandma parented us as well. But, her love was not an overpowering love. She was just always there. I didn’t know how rare that was.


Grandma was the most selfless person I’ve ever known. She gave herself to others and never asked for anything in return. Her students, her children, her grandchildren, her husband…she doted on us all, doing all she could to make our lives better, without ever taking time for herself. She was the type of lady who would buy a beautiful dress for her daughter at a time when the family could barely rub two pennies together–just because she wanted her little girl to have something pretty. For herself though, she’d tie her knee-high nylons in knots rather than purchase new ones. She was selfless.


Grandma’s classic beauty helped with this. I remember only 3 cosmetics on her bathroom shelf—Oil of Olay lotion, powder and red lipstick. She didn’t need anything more.

More than any other part of being at Grandma’s house, I remember being with her in the kitchen. Sitting at the kitchen table. Helping her with the dishes. Like most homes, it was the heart of the house. I don’t think Grandma liked to cook all that much. And, I don’t remember her being particularly stellar at it. She was busy with other things, after all. We ate lots of sandwiches and hot dogs and she’d buy a 6 pack of Pepsi for us to share. Despite that, she had certain things that were kind of signature. Shit on a shingle was one. Jello pudding with bananas and Nilla Wafers was another. Texas Sheet Cake was a big one. In one of those cookbooks that small town churches put out, Grandma contributed her recipe. Making the Sheet Cake, her signature recipe in the small town I grew up in, seemed appropriate. I remember her making this when I was little. I didn’t like chocolate cake all that much then (perish the thought) and always opted for the pudding instead. What I do remember, from the few times I tasted it, was how moist, nutty and chocolatey it was. Like a brownie, but more like a cake. In fact, I probably thought Grandma was trying to make brownies when I was little.


I pretty much followed Grandma’s recipe to a tee, but added a bit of spice inspired by Homesick Texan’s version.

Texas Sheet Cake

Adapted from Claudia Monk’s recipe and Homesick Texan
Cake:
2 cups sugar
2 cups flour
2 sticks butter
4 T cocoa
1 cup water
2 eggs
1/2 cup buttermilk
1 t baking soda
1 t vanilla
1 t cinnamon
1/2 t chile powder
1/2 cup nuts
Frosting:
1 stick butter
4 T cocoa
6 T milk
1 pound powdered sugar
1 t vanilla
1/2 t cinnamon
1 cup nuts
Preparation:
Cake:
Heat oven to 400 degrees.
Mix sugar and flour in large bowl with fork until blended.
Melt butter in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat. Mix cocoa and water in a small bowl. Add to melted butter in saucepan. Boil.
Pour cocoa mixture over sugar/flour mixture. Stir.
In separate bowl, mix remaining ingredients. Combine two bowls.
Butter a 9 x 13 cake pan. Bake at 400 degrees for 30 minutes.
Frosting:
While cake is baking, boil butter, cocoa and milk in medium saucepan over low heat. Remove from heat.
Add remaining ingredients. Stir until blended.
When cake is finished baking, immediately poke holes in the top using a skewer or toothpick. Pour frosting over warm cake. Serve warm or allow to cool.

Time: 45 minutes, start to finish.
Serves: 12+
Drink Pairing: Strong coffee or milk


I am constantly amazed at the story of Grandma’s life. At her strength, her generosity and the depth of her love. She was a pretty amazing woman…