September 26, 2014 By Steve Anderson
My Grandma Leicher grew up in Missouri and seemed especially proud of that fact. She was a Fugate before she married Robert Leicher and Fugates were folks to be reckoned with. For years I heard more stories than I could ever hope to count of her family and relatives in Missouri.
Her’s was an arranged marriage. Momma Ede never saw her husband until he came to get her a week before they were to be married. Until then, she only saw . . .
My Grandma Leicher grew up in Missouri and seemed especially proud of that fact. She was a Fugate before she married Robert Leicher and Fugates were folks to be reckoned with. For years I heard more stories than I could ever hope to count of her family and relatives in Missouri.
Her’s was an arranged marriage. Momma Ede never saw her husband until he came to get her a week before they were to be married. Until then, she only saw . . .
Luverne, Minnesota saw pictures of what her future husband looked like. Her journal speaks of her excitement and nervousness of meeting this man who was to be her husband. They never dated with the exception of a few days before their marriage and even that was with a chaperone. Once married grandpa moved her to the cold windy plains of southern Minnesota to a tiny little town called Luverne, where she lived the remainder of her life.
She insisted we not call her grandma. According to her, in the south you don’t call the old ones grandpa and grandma. Instead, she insisted that we call her Momma Ede and grandpa was to be called Daddy Bob. I never knew Momma Ede by any other name. In fact, it wasn’t until I was about 12 years old that I even realized that she had a real name. It was Edith Florence Fugate.
I never knew Momma Ede when she could see. She lost her sight to macular degeneration years before I was born. But that never stopped her from enjoying her garden. Momma Ede was a remarkable gardener. Because she could not see, I was assigned to go to her home every Saturday morning to work with her for most of the morning.
She insisted we not call her grandma. According to her, in the south you don’t call the old ones grandpa and grandma. Instead, she insisted that we call her Momma Ede and grandpa was to be called Daddy Bob. I never knew Momma Ede by any other name. In fact, it wasn’t until I was about 12 years old that I even realized that she had a real name. It was Edith Florence Fugate.
I never knew Momma Ede when she could see. She lost her sight to macular degeneration years before I was born. But that never stopped her from enjoying her garden. Momma Ede was a remarkable gardener. Because she could not see, I was assigned to go to her home every Saturday morning to work with her for most of the morning.
Even though I was there to do the heavy and dirty work, she was right there, working side by side with me, teaching me everything she knew about gardening. I always felt a bit negligent in having this little 81 year old blind woman crawling on her hands and knees through the dirt, feeling her way through the soil to find weeds to pull, but she would not have it any other way. Momma Ede could tell exactly what flowers were where in her garden as she felt the blossoms, leaves and stems of each plant. Even in her old age her sense of smell never failed her. She really was quite a remarkable woman, and everything she knew about gardening she taught to me.
But teaching me about gardening was not enough for her. When we were done gardening for the morning, she would not let me go home until we sat in the screened in back porch and enjoy a bottle of ice cold Hires Root Beer together with her and Daddy Bob. She kept a refrigerator full of root beer in that back porch just for such enjoyment. And while we sat there relaxing and enjoying our root beer she would tell me stories of all the old ones back in Missouri. I learned all about the family members who fought and died in the Civil War, which in her mind the south should have won. She told me about the ones owned slaves (an obvious sing of wealth), which ones were the moonshiners and who were the big-wigs in the local community. I heard it all and I learned all the names.
Momma Ede and Daddy Bob are both long gone now. But the love for gardening and family history still runs deep in my soul. Those stories have been passed down to my own children who will pass them down to theirs. They will never been forgotten thanks to Momma Ede. I’ve been back to visit Queen City, Missouri where she was born and grew up. It felt like I was coming back home to a place I had been to many times before. It felt familiar to me. It felt good.
Momma Ede and Daddy Bob are both long gone now. But the love for gardening and family history still runs deep in my soul. Those stories have been passed down to my own children who will pass them down to theirs. They will never been forgotten thanks to Momma Ede. I’ve been back to visit Queen City, Missouri where she was born and grew up. It felt like I was coming back home to a place I had been to many times before. It felt familiar to me. It felt good.
