The Cookie Grandma

She exuded an air of regality and sternness, like a matriarch ruling over her brood. Regrettably, my encounters with my father's mother were infrequent; I can count using only my own hands the number of times I crossed paths with her in my lifetime, even though she was alive for almost three decades of my life. Despite living in proximity to us, merely a few states away, my sister and I spent our summers with our maternal grandparents on the other side of the country, thus forging a closer bond with them. As a result, my knowledge of our family's history is primarily rooted in that side of the family.

My paternal grandmother's reserved and enigmatic nature intrigued me, as I seldom heard her utter a word during our brief encounters. She graced my baptism and wedding ceremonies, but I struggle to recall the sound of her voice, unlike my maternal grandparents, whose voices remain vivid in my memory, despite their passing over two decades ago.

 Gail Louise Bauman entered this world on January 24, 1909, in Seattle, Washington. At the tender age of twenty, she married Henry "Hank" Sebastian Ravet, and together they welcomed seven children: three daughters, and four sons, with my father, John Phillip Ravet, occupying the middle-child position. Tragedy befell my grandmother when she became a widow at the age of 67. She also had to bury her first born in 1993 who died in a car accident. At the age of 92, my grandmother breathed her last. In a cruel twist of fate, none of her children lived to see their seventieth birthday.

These familial losses have been one of the challenges that I have encountered while exploring Grandma Ravet's early life. Although I have twenty-three cousins, only a handful knew my grandmother well, and my search for information about her early life has yielded little success. I recall hearing stories that her father abandoned her and her family when she was young, and while I have managed to find some details about him on myheritage.com, such as his name, date of birth, and death, his life remains largely unrecorded, much like hers.

My grandmother's countenance often appeared forlorn, which piqued my curiosity as to its origin. However, she was a devout Catholic who attended daily mass and had an active social life in her senior home community. During family gatherings, her face often bore a reflective, sad expression, but accounts from those who knew her suggest that she was not unhappy. I vividly recall a Thanksgiving spent at her mobile retirement community home, where she baked the most delectable cookies, earning her the moniker "Cookie Grandma" among my older cousins who shared that with me years later.

 My last living aunt shared some photographs with me, evoking a sense of yearning for more time with my grandmother. I am especially curious about her faith and the history of her family, who immigrated from Germany on both sides. While census, birth, and death records provide meager glimpses into her life, I know there is much more to her story that I have yet to encounter.

Grandma Ravet as a young girl. I think that is the biggest smile I have ever seen on her face. I never knew she had a dog. I know my dad did not have one when growing up.

My grandparent's wedding. I think I see where she got her stern expression from. Her mom and grandmother who are on the right.

I wonder what she is thinking about?

Grandma and her seven children, none of which survive today. This picture is c. 1990. My father is the one in the back with the hat.