Every Christmas, for as far back as my memory goes, our family had a set of traditions centered on Christmas Eve dinner. Beginning days earlier, my grandmother would start the process of making hundreds upon hundreds of Polish pierogi from scratch. As kids, my brothers and I loved helping out, though that usually just meant rolling the extra little dough scraps into ‘fingers’ and tossing them into the boiling water. I don’t remember ever seeing her reference notes or a recipe of any kind, but she knew exactly how much of everything she needed to make the tastiest potato, cheese, and cabbage pierogis you’ve ever tried. And when I say she knew exactly how much she needed, what I meant was she knew exactly how much she needed if she wanted to cover every available flat surface in our house with sheets and flour to lay the pierogi on. This often included ironing boards, the dining room table, all kitchen counters not being used for rolling the dough, and anything else that was flat and available.

What I’m saying is, she made a lot of pierogi.

And I’m still having trouble processing that I won’t have any this year.

Theresa Sherno was 97 years old when she passed on July 5th, but few who met her believed she was a day over 85. She was active, sharp, highly opinionated, kind, loving, and a ton of other great things.

My sons and I would make the drive down to the Poconos every other Christmas, or so. They developed about the same taste for pierogis as I did when I was a kid (‘they didn’t taste the greatest on their own, but knowing they meant Christmas morning was coming added a little something to the flavor’). They’re both teenagers now. I feel so lucky to know they had that many years with their great-grandmother.

Throughout my life, she was always there. From the stories I’ve been told, it began the day I was born, when she flew from Atlanta in high heels through a blizzard to a small airport in the Michigan Upper Peninsula to help my mom with a newborn. A few years later, after my father abandoned the family to move west, leaving my mom alone with 2 toddler sons, my grandma moved in and helped. For most of my brother’s and my childhoods, she was as much a part of our daily life as our mom and stepdad. 

That never changed. 

Her influence in my life, in ways subtle and outstanding, will always be there. My eclectic music taste? She loved Neil Diamond and the Beach Boys, and both have always found their way onto my playlists. Her strong Catholic faith? Although I no longer practice, the tenets of that religion have shaped most of my values. Her love of reading and good stories? I’ve been hooked my whole life. 

I know how lucky I am to have had 47 years of great memories with my grandma. Some people only get stories and pictures. She loved animals and gardening and nature and I hope everyone remembers those things about her. She baked amazing chocolate chip cookies. She tried to feed every wild animal that was fortunate enough to cross her path. 

And every Christmas, she made enough pierogi to feed a small village. Just in case.