Honoring Everyone's Favorite 97-year-old Feminist Icon

“All I can say is ‘Say an extra prayer for me. I’m gonna need it.’” Grandma said out of the blue, as she burst into laughter.

Are you thinking you’re going to hell?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” she said.

“Then you’d better say a prayer for me, too.” I told her.

My relationship with Grandma was complicated at the start. As a toddler, I preferred the pillowed belly and playful nature of my grandpa. As a kid, my boisterous and bold ways were in stark contrast to her restrained and humble manner. “Children are to be seen and not heard,” she’d tell me. As a teen, I was seldom the underdog she always seemed to favor.

Had I moved away or gotten married, our relationship might’ve remained somewhat strained. As it happened, I came to spend a lot of time with Grandma, especially during her last several years of life. When I needed care as I recovered from surgery, I spent a week with Grandma. She was 92 at the time and still living alone on the farm, so she relished having a visitor and the renewed sense of purpose of having someone to care for. I took that opportunity to interview her about her life and record her answers. This was the start of a deeper bond for Grandma and me...and I’m honored to be here today to share her memories.

As the years continued, I’d spend more time with Grandma. At a certain point, there was no escaping each other--we were bed mates at the lake home. “Time to spoon” we’d joke. Friends would come to know Grandma as I shared her witticisms on Facebook in a series called, “Fern Ratigan is Da Bomb.” “How’s Fern Ratigan?” they’d ask...always using her full name because it’s fun to say. They’d ask out of genuine concern for her health...and out of desire for another one of her famous quips. And you’re in luck: I’ll share a few of them today.

In the best of times, I was charmed by her zest and pluck, and she was inspired by my singing and dancing...often joining me in singing her favorites from The Andrews Sisters...and always with a toe tapping to the beat. In the worst of times, she reminded me that I was too loud, too brash...and I worried that she might never forgive me for sharing her wise cracks on Facebook because she was such a private person.

It’s a small wonder then that I, her 7th favorite of seven grandkids, am speaking before you today to honor her life...one of hardship, perseverance, wit, and kindness. Always kindness.

Grandma had a social grace you couldn’t teach in a classroom. In another life, she might’ve been a corporate leader. But the hardships of rural life in the 1920s and ‘30s meant that Grandma was unable to attend school beyond 8th grade because the closest high school was a three-mile walk and she had cows to milk in the morning. Decades later, in her late 80s, Grandma sought out and earned her GED.

But Grandma’s childhood wasn’t all work and no play. Cards, ball, and horseshoes were her favorite pastimes. On playing horseshoes, she said, “Ohhhh…we kids got good. And I’m not bragging—I really mean it.” It was a rare moment of immodesty from this very modest woman.

Two more memories had her beaming:

“I was lucky enough to sing on the radio, which was a great honor at that time. Anybody who could get on the radio thought that was pretty darn good.”
And the other memory: “I always felt important when my grandpa would send me out to shut the windmill off. He knew I could do it and that it would make me feel good.”

Grandma’s life of adventure began when she met my grandpa David at a dance. In her words, “That’s where it all started…my life took shape after that.”

It was a classic case of love at first sight. Grandma said, “I was perkin'... and he was getting himself shimmied up there. He came up and asked me to dance, and I did. And that was it. I knew it right away. That first night he asked if he could take me home and like a sap I went.” Before you think she was a goner, one time when Grandpa told her he was getting a car to go out, she quipped: “I hope you got a car for me, too. If you go, I go.” Spoiler: He never did go.

They got married, bought a farm, and worked together to establish a grain and livestock operation. Grandma said, “I just kept right up with my husband. You gotta cooperate—that’s for darn sure. I was always proud that we could make a darn good living. That’s something to be proud of because you’ve got it figured out…it isn’t as though it just drops in your lap.”

In addition to getting married, Grandma said the proudest moments of her life were the births and graduations of her two children--my mom Karen and my uncle Bob.

Grandma’s happy life took a sharp turn in 1967, when a tornado destroyed their entire farm and put Grandpa in the hospital for months with a traumatic brain injury and amnesia.

“My life was never the same after that. Dad getting hurt was a terrible cross to bear. I wondered half the time if Dad knew who I was…for many months. It was a nightmare. And when he first came home, I sometimes felt that I didn’t have a husband because everything fell on my shoulders. I learned that I could accept a lot of things; other people have problems, too. It goes to show that you just don’t have a handle on everything. Until you go through that, you really can’t explain any of that stuff. You have to believe in God to get through a lot of things.

At that time, I was having a lot of health problems. It was hard for me to grasp going there and coming back here. I was sick; I just couldn’t handle myself well. I was very depressed and very sad because I didn’t want to come back. It wasn’t working out for me at all. And Dad—not knowing what we were getting into—kept saying he wanted to come home again. He had to get well, too. He was off of his grizzle a lot of the time.

So we finally came back here, and I became an Avon lady. I thought, ‘I’ll try it—it’s better than going to the doctor and having them pump all kinds of medication in me.’ Because I wasn’t myself...I had depression and anxiety all hooked into one. And Avon got me to where I needed to be. I realized that I could do it…I realized my own strength.

It really helped that I got to be a team leader. There were three of us she asked to sign up. I nearly flipped my lid when they announced that I got it. The others all had a high school education and I didn’t. How I ever got that, I don’t know. I really liked sales very much. It just made me feel good: my customers were so nice to me...I liked every one of them…I could chat a little with them…and they liked to visit, so they could get a chance to rest.

Grandma was popular with her customers and enjoyed an award-winning, 41-year Avon career. She said, “Selling Avon was the best thing I ever did. It got me out of the house and yet I was home a lot, too. I forgot all about being so scared…or I got used to it.”

Fear continued to knock, several times over. It’s bound to happen with so much death surrounding a person who has reached level 97. Here’s what Grandma had to say:

“Death has always been the most challenging thing in my life. You lose your parents, brother, sisters…that’s challenging because you have to continue on after you have this loss. Then you finally lose your mate and that is very hardening. Because everything changes when this happens. At first, you’re very hurt that it happened. Then you wonder ‘Could’ve I done something that could’ve helped a little bit?’ You always have that in the back of your mind.

Despite all the difficulties from the tornado...and how it changed my grandpa, he was her one true love, and she couldn’t imagine her life without him. When he passed, she had a plan.

“After Grandpa died, I was never going to stay here alone. I was just going to drive the car until I ran out of gas. I just wanted to be by myself. I was going to take a suitcase and just go…let everything sit. Would I have ever come back? I don’t know. I was just crushed after Dad died. I didn’t think I could bear to come home here. But God planned for me to help care for Karen, after she had that accident.

Grandma and Mom would go on to cultivate an inseparable bond for the next 25 years full of all kinds of escapades, including beloved mystery trips that Mom would plan for Grandma and her dear friend, Elaine Tesch. For the last three years, Mom provided round-the-clock care for Grandma as dementia took over her life. And, Bob, though physically a few hours away, called Grandma every single day. They modeled loving kindness in a way we all talk about but seldom actually see lived out in our daily lives. And it was what Grandma had first modeled for them.

In the last decade of her life, Grandma took on icon status. It’s as if she felt liberated to speak her mind after nine decades of reserve. And we got honest answers to long-burning questions.

Like that time I asked, “Why do you like Heather better?” To which she wasted no time saying, “Because I’ve known her longer.”
Or that time we asked why she wasn’t dating again. She proclaimed David her one and only, adding: “Men my age are only looking for one thing--a nurse with a purse.”

It also meant we got more of her openness to new experiences and her ability to find humor in most any situation:

At age 92, Grandma was lamenting that she wasn’t sure IF she'd be able to get down on her hands and knees to wax her kitchen floor for card club. She was 92!
Once, when I was pushing her in a wheelchair, I complained about the handbag I was carrying: “Ugh, this bag is heavy.” “The one you’re pushing?” she replied with laughter.
Last year, in response to being told she didn’t need to be up and walking around in a dark room, given that she’d lost much of her eyesight, she said, “I maybe don’t need to, but I want to.”
A bit closer to home, she described a haircut, “I think she kept cutting until she ran out of head. I don't want to be laying in the coffin with my hair sheared up.”

Earlier this year, Grandma was sad because she wanted to see her mom. So my mom and uncle took turns listing all the people that Grandma would see someday when she’s in heaven alongside her mother. When Bob named three nephews--Mike, Artie and Robert--Grandma paused masterfully before saying, ”Well...I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

Recently, a friend sent me a note, relaying a conversation she’d had with her husband that morning. Spontaneously, he said…

He: “Can I ask you maybe a dumb question? Maybe not...since I'm not from Minnesota.”

She: “Sure…”

He: “Who the heck is Fern Ratigan?”

She: “Krause's grandma?”

He: “Oh, I thought she was famous. Fern Ratigan sounds like a famous person's name, and Krause is always posting how awesome she is.”

It’s true. Grandma is awesome. She was a reluctant rock star. And I, her eager publicist. I love how our relationship evolved during the span of her life. And I know she’s watching us now thinking, “Oh, Meghan...you didn’t need to say that” but ready with a spirited quip so we all can laugh about it.

When I asked Grandma what three words best describe who she tried to be in life and how she wanted to be remembered, she said, “Kind. I wanted to be like my mother…the kindest lady I ever knew. Why would I have to have three words?” And then, because she was nothing if not by the book...but with a twist of wit, Grandma remembered the original three-word request. She said with a laugh, “Very, very kind. There…I got it done.”

Indeed, Grandma got it all done...with kindness and wit. May her memory be an inspiration to us all.