Wars of Chaos - My Grandmother

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Dec 26, 2009, 3:41am

Wars of Chaos :: Origional works and Fanfiction :: Non-Fiction :: My Grandmother

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Topic: My Grandmother (Read 173 times)

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Joined: Jul 2003
Gender: Female

Posts: 472
Location: California, USA

My Grandmother
« Thread Started on Oct 29, 2003, 10:42am »

This is dedicated to my Grandmother, who was a remarkable person. I believe she deserves credit for her acomplishments and I will probably be posting some of her own work at some point.

IOLA JEANNE SEMAS
By Ilana Dunkle

Iola was born on April 18th, 1926 in San Jose, California. She had a very unusual mother. Genevieve was a bit odd to say the least. She refused to allow any male animals on the farm where Iola grew up. The only exception was the rooster for her flock of chickens and her husband, who had to live in a small house out in back of the main house. Genevieve also insisted that all new clothes had to be washed until well worn in appearance before Iola could wear them. When Iola went off to college at the age of fourteen Genevieve committed suicide.

Despite their differences, Iola loved her mother very much. Though she gladly accepted her fathers re marriage years later. While at College, she majored in music and became a part of the orchestra. Among the other things she did there she also picked up a deadly habit, smoking. Near the end of her life she was smoking 3-4 packs a day.

Iola was musically talented and later met her future husband, Ted Dunkle while playing piano in the same orchestra. Ted and Iola got married and had 5 children: Sandy, Polly, Janet, Chris, and Mark. Sandy became a physician’s assistant, Polly a First Chair Violinist, Janet a professional artist, Chris a computer tech for Calpine Corp., and Mark teaches English as a second language.

Iola wasn’t only a musician. She was also a writer. She wrote many stories ranging from short autobiographical sketches to science fiction. Sadly, none were published. My favorite one of her autobiographical sketches is “Roughing It.” It reminds me of myself when I was little. Later in life she wrote a poem called, “Flowers.” I enjoyed this story because it showed me a side of her I never knew. She was a beautiful person in life and she always had something nice to say about everyone. She had few or no prejudices in life and was one of the most optimistic personalities I have ever encountered.

I knew Iola for a very short time. When I was little she would play with me like we were both kids instead of acting like an adult. My fondest memory of her is her giant jar of marbles. I used to sort through them every time I visited. The last Christmas we spent together she gave it to me. Iola passed on many things to me one of which was her love of writing and music. Though, I am not nearly as talented as she was.

In her old age Iola developed Alzheimer’s. I didn’t realize how bad it was until I overheard a conversation between my parents about Iola calling Aunt Polly and accusing her of kidnapping her children. When she died in March 2001 I was heartbroken. The family gathered on a boat to scatter her ashes in the ocean. Iola once said that when she died she would come back as a turtle to hear what people said about her. When we scattered flowers where her ashes were, a small turtle popped up and started swimming among the flowers.

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