Who was my maternal grandmother? Even though I saw her virtually every Friday night during my childhood I never really had any idea what she was thinking or what the story of her life might have been. Maria Bartakovics was born in Trencin, Austria Hungary in 1890. Her parents, Andreas Bartakovics and Maria Trebaticzky baptized her in the Catholic Church at Cactiche that same year. I have little information about her childhood but my eldest aunt seemed to think that she had a brother who died in some kind of accident involving a horse. She arrived in Galveston, Texas in 1913 where she met up with my grandfather Pavel Dusan Uhrik. 

My aunt said that my grandmother and my grandfather lived and worked on a farm until she delivered the first of her ten children in 1914. After that her story becomes murky but it appears that she spent time cleaning an office building until her manager made an improper pass at her. She quit that job and worked for a time in a bakery. Evidently she was learning English then but when her second son was born in 1917, she became mostly homebound and having no need for English she reverted into speaking only Slovak. The children came in quick succession after that in 1919, 1921, 1922, 1923, 1925, and 1926. 

My mother was the youngest of the brood but only a year before her birth a boy was born in February and died by July. Evidently there was also another birth that never got registered because the child died in utero. My grandmother gave birth to all of her children at home, so I marvel at her fortitude. I have often felt that surely life must have been difficult for her even as she gave no hint to her sons and daughters that she ever had any struggles. 

She ran the household from a small home with three bedrooms and one bathroom. It had to be rather wild with so many children running in and out of the house but somehow she made them all feel loved. When the Great Depression occurred she kept the family fed with vegetables from a garden that she tended in the backyard and made meals stretch even if she was left with only the bones. Somehow the children communicated with her even though their knowledge of her language was minimal. They spoke English at the insistence of their father. 

Not long after my mother was born my grandmother had a breakdown which is not surprising given the loss of two children and the pregnancies that seemed to come without much time to readjust. She spent some time in the hospital and none of the children were ever able to estimate how long she was gone. Her absence was particularly hard on my mother who was only about five years old when her mother was taken away in an ambulance. It was a horror that haunted my mother for all of her life. 

Once my grandmother came back home she never again wanted to leave the house for any reason. She only left two more times, once when an appendix burst and another when she was diagnosed with the cancer that ultimately took her life. 

I first recall my grandmother with a long braid of black hair running down her back. With her blue eyes and lack of English she seemed rather exotic to me. Her vocabulary was limited to calling all of us either “pretty girl” or “pretty boy.” She feted us with cups of weak coffee filled with sugar and milk served in enamel cups and accompanied by dark rye bread. I actually enjoyed the little feast, seeing myself as being rather sophisticated with an “adult” beverage but most of my cousins disliked having to pretend to want the sugary mixture. 

My grandmother had her own special chair in the corner of the living room where she perched herself like royalty as she enjoyed watching her children talking over one another just as they must have done when they were young. Visits to Grandma’s house were never quiet but the raucous bunch seemed to please her well. Their almost religious habit of meeting every Friday night insured my grandmother that she would see them frequently and I suppose that was rather nice for her. 

Two of my uncles ended up living with Grandma full time. One was a dyed in the wool bachelor and the other had a brief marriage that ended in divorce. They kept things repaired at the house and shared the bills for utilities. It was a nice arrangement that seemed to be perfect for my grandmother because my grandfather had died from a stroke before he had even retired from his work. She happily cooked and cleaned for her sons while eschewing shoes in the summer and donning slippers when it was cold. 

I always had so much fun at my grandmother’s house. I had dozens of cousins and we played so many games while our parents filled the place with smoke from the cigarettes that they would eventually stop using. During my youngest years everybody seemed to smoke and so they puffed away while playing penny ante poker games. While they were busy we had a blast outside, sometimes pushing the envelope of safety when nobody was watching. 

I would like to know so much more about my grandmother. I often wonder what she was really thinking and whether or not she missed her homeland and the family that she left behind there. I wish I had known how to talk with her instead of just assuming that her thoughts were unimportant. I would have liked to know what she had experienced as a young girl and how she met and fell in love with my grandfather. I would love to have an idea of how she looked in her younger days. I have so many questions that will never be answered. The only thing about which I am sure is that she loved all of us who were part of her family. She was a wonderful hostess who never failed to welcome us with her coffee and bread. 

My grandmother died in 1977 when I as twenty nine years old and I still knew so little about her. She was loved by her entire family and our get togethers never again felt the same after she was gone. I especially missed seeing her sitting serenely in that corner where she seemed to be so content and I find myself wanting just one more cup of her sugary coffee. I rescued one of her enamel cups so that I would never forget how wonderful she was. It is a treasure that nobody but me understands.