Norma Whitehead (Laws)

I found this excerpt from a journal entry shortly after grandma's funeral in September 2006. I'm not as eloquent as others in our family, but I enjoy reading others' memories and hope you will do the same. Grandma’s (Norma Laws Whitehead) house was magical. She was a talented woman who could sew, cook, paint, throw pots (pottery), make stained glass windows, write, draw, sing, maintain a lovely garden, and who had a keen eye for anything beautiful. I recall going over to her house (the “hilly” way of course) many times throughout my childhood, and grandma and grandpa always had something exciting they were up to. I remember her kaleidoscope collection, and exploring each one for what seemed like hours—dazzled at all of the beautiful colors. I remember “catching” rainbows—the ones cast all over her house by a few crystals she hung in some clear story windows of her house. I remember walks to the creek behind her house, where we tasted honeysuckles, and ate fresh apricots and cherries from her trees. I remember the smell of the giant rose blossoms she had in her backyard. I remember grandma and grandpa eating breakfast—which always consisted of grapefruit, shredded wheat (the big ones) (or KIX for us kids), raisin bread, fresh orange juice, bananas, and a medley of fruit. She had a variety of fun place mats and cups with built in straws for the kids—and we each seemed to have our favorite one. She had a basket full of wooden apples on her dining table—some big, red and shiny, and others looking like they had already been eaten. She had tall windows in her backyard, and her whole house in Salt Lake seemed to be open to everything. She had a tall grandfather clock that filled the whole house with its steady chime…firm but friendly. She had warm fires, and beautiful Christmas trees in December—I remember perfectly fallen snow, and feeling instantly warm and safe inside. She had a row of soldier ornaments attached to the railing as we walked into her house that danced as you pulled their strings. She always had a jigsaw puzzle in the works in the atrium, and we were always proud of ourselves when we could get just one piece to fit. I remember her windows and her back door being so clean that I ran into them once…not realizing the door was closed. She had covered patio on the side of her house accessible from the dining room that was draped with grapevines. Every once in awhile, she’d announce that the grapes were ripe, and we’d get to savor their perfect sweetness. I remember the cutout window in my “favorite” room overlooking the living room below. I loved sitting up there watching over the family socializing below, or pretending to be Annie. I remember the puffy wallpaper throughout the house. I remember her toy room -- full of Lincoln logs, dolls, plastic picnic baskets (and I suppose some boys toys too) -- tucked away under the stairs. The stairs were solid wood, and built by grandpa—open underneath. I remember walking to the Valley View park and playing for hours on the jungle gym. I remember walking under the big willow tree on the way, and imagining for a few minutes that I was a princess in my own world under the tree. I remember passing the creek as we walked—sometimes dry, but usually rushing wildly, and feeling completely safe with grandma by my side. I remember trips to Dan’s food store with grandma and grandpa, and how she always insisted that we hold hands with grandpa as we walked through the parking lot. I remember being at grandma’s house early on one of my birthdays, jumping up and down on their mini trampoline and wearing a dress—realizing before the day even began, that this was going to be a great birthday. I remember riding in their motor home—and how fancy it felt to be in a little home on wheels. I recall hours of watching grandma at the potter’s wheel. The smell of clay in her studio, and her hands—small but strong molding clay and shaping it into bowls, vases, pots, miniature people, birds, pigs, and anything else you or grandma could dream up. She would make basic shapes of people and let us create hair, faces, and clothes for them out of clay. I remember the beautiful blankets and afghans she crocheted for us. I remember trips to the zoo…Yellowstone, circuses, symphonies, plays, and so many more. I remember baths in her Jacuzzi tub, and her guest bath that had purple irises painted on the wall and a bathroom scale that pulled out of the wall. I remember her sculptures…specifically one of an old man hunched over a cane, another of her hands working on a pot, and another of a tall (possibly Indian) woman with a pot on her head, and another of a bust of a woman. I remember her stained glass window on the front of her house.