Phyllis M. Nord

Condolences to the family and especially to Judy on the loss of your mom. What I remember most about her is how much she loved to dance. She always had a smile on her face too. God’s blessings and peace to you.

My condolences to the family. Danced with
Phyllis and Rod at old Eagles. Nancy and I visited her and Bill in north Fargo many times. Rest in peace friend.
Art Olerud

She was the quintessential grandma. Small but mighty. With baked goods and hard candies always around. Open arms, open heart, and an open door. The perfect coifed permed hair. A childlike twinkle in her eyes and sweet smile on her face at all times (if she wasn’t busy picking at her teeth with a toothpick or flosser!). You could always see in her eyes the thrill and pleasure she had in watching her family and friends just be together. Her presence was uplifting and she always lightened the mood. She influenced the climate around her by spreading her joy to each of us. We were happy to be spending time together with her, and there was nowhere else in the world that I would rather have been than when I was with her—making memories to hang onto and cherish. Her spirit lives on in my heart and she will always be a part of me. Like the parts of me that love dancing, giving gifts, acts of kindness, laughing and being playful, eating all the sweets, playing card games, traveling, getting a kick out of my dogs; the parts of me that value hard work, but, more importantly, having fun while doing it; spending quality time with my loved ones, and being a good wife to my husband. It all comes from my grandma.

Her house was a welcoming space, and a treasure trove for me growing up. It was filled with so many trinkets, discoveries, and vintage baubles that brought me excitement and awe, and reflected the full life she lived and her fun-loving and jovial character. Her home office nurtured a love and deep appreciation in me for secretaries and office supplies. You can never have enough nifty little office supplies! No trip to her house was complete without going through at least some of her jewelry and admiring her perfume bottles. And a trip into the basement, well, that transported me into a different time that was before me. She is why I’m so drawn to the colors of rust and avocado green, and flower power patterns.

There was a distinct, nostalgic smell inside of her cars. I always wanted the exact same vehicles as my grandma. I idolized her so much that I wish I could have captured that special car smell of hers forever—the smell of wisdom and the secrets of living a good life—so I could carry it with me as I zip around.

She suffered too many hardships and losses in her life. Yet she continued to always have that special smile and joy to spread. And I always understood and recognized growing up that she was the strongest person I knew. And that I wanted to be just as strong as her because she always overcame and persevered no matter how many times tragedy struck and life broke her heart. She always endured, with grace and love, and had no room for bitterness or resentment.

She was patient and fun, and always made me feel incredibly special and accepted for who I was. She was a supporter of me no matter what, even if I did something that I knew let her down or that she didn’t agree with. She was a good Christian woman, and even though I am the farthest thing from that, she taught me about graciousness, integrity, generosity, and kindness.

Christmases haven’t been the same since my brother and I became adults, as things naturally change since starting traditions of our own with our families, and they will never be the same without her, but her giving spirit will always live on… along with grasshoppers and Tom and Jerry’s. Some of my most powerful childhood memories will always be of those very cherished Christmas Eve’s at her house. That was it for me every year, THE EVENT. She SHINED. That twinkle in her eyes even brighter. She was full of surprises with endless gifts to her family; she pulled out all the stops to make sure no one wanted for anything. And I mean anything. She was the heart of our family, and it’s one the biggest blessings of my life to have been her granddaughter and to have had her as a role model to look up to, who influenced me to the core of who I am and who I’ve become. I’ll become a golfer like her one day too. She taught me it was never too late to learn, to grow, to achieve your goals. To find more ways to have fun, to get out there, and enjoy life.

And even though she was a churchgoing wholesome woman, she had a beloved ornery side that could break the rules for charitableness or practicality’s sake, of course. Like the time I thought we were so rebellious when she snuck homemade popcorn into the movies. What a thrill! Grandma being unruly was one of my favorite things to witness! And that unruliness sure came out strong whenever she was spoiling us and we thought she was treating us too indulgently. She used her stubbornness as a way to supplement her kindness and magnanimity. Now that’s some superpower.

I’m not an overly spiritual person. But I am certain now that there’s a guardian angel looking out for me and watching over me, just like she always did while she was here on earth with us. I hope she knows how deeply I loved her, still love her, and always will. And I know—have always known since I was a little girl—that my grandma loved me deeply too. The world with her no longer in it does not feel the same. But I’ll channel her unwavering strength and keep smiling on… just like her.

Rest in peace, Gram.