MINNEAPOLIS ― She’s a therapist and career coach, cheerleader and wise woman, secret keeper and borscht pusher.

Mostly, 85-year-old Gretta Freeman of Golden Valley, Minnesota, is chief executive officer of perhaps the most endearingly run support group in the Midwest, and likely beyond. Unfortunately for us, membership is closed.

For 18 years, Freeman has guided her seven grandchildren, now grown, through myriad life passages and challenges. She has done this through her Grandma’s Roundtable, a periodic gathering of grandmother and grandchildren, where food and wine are abundant, judgment is banned, and no question or concern is off-limits.

“I think they had a lot of respect for my life,” said Freeman, reflecting on the impact of her roundtable, which continues today when schedules allow. “And that I was so open.”

She needn’t talk in past tense. The grands, spread out across the country, many of them married with kids, remain viscerally connected to her, and immeasurably grateful.

“I went to college more relaxed, more focused on what I wanted and, above all, more confident I would be OK,” said Jenny Cukier, 35, the oldest of the bunch.

“Grandma’s Roundtable solved my quarterlife crisis,” said Jenny’s little brother, Zach, 30.

“We are so fortunate to have a grandma who can get real with us,” added cousin Rebeccca Lesure, 32.

Jenny recalls that the roundtable began organically with just her and Freeman talking about what mattered to a high school senior. Jenny loved that Grandma was paying attention. “I remember being very candid with her,” Jenny said, “opening up and talking, talking, talking. I didn’t realize I had so much to say. She pulled it out of me. I remember leaving conversations feeling lighter and better.”

Soon, Jenny’s sister, Katie, joined in. The girl-fest met several times a year, often around holidays. Eventually, Zach joined them, then cousins Rebecca, Michael, Ben and Matthew.

Grandma’s Roundtable migrated from her dining room table to the backroom of the Lexington restaurant in St. Paul, where the two generations sat for hours talking themselves out over Szechuan green beans.

Parents were off-limits, but significant others were invited ― if they fit the criteria. “They had to be close to engaged,” Freeman said. “They had to be able to handle it.” It being conversations around drugs, drinking, sex, media, suicide, feminism, peer pressure, politics, religion and, “above all, love and relationships,” Jenny said.

The latter could have been trying and complicated to a woman born in 1929. But we’re talking about Grandma Gretta here.

Katie remembers breaking down at a roundtable after she began dating a man who was Mormon. No one in the immediate family had married outside the Jewish faith.

“I was scared what my parents’ reaction would be,” Katie recalled. “How could we possibly build a life together and even think about raising a family? Grandma’s Roundtable was the first time I truly dealt with this relationship struggle.”

Grandma Gretta asked a lot of questions. She let Katie cry.

“The next thing I knew,” Katie said, “she was calling me to say she had talked to a rabbi, as well as a bishop from the Mormon church. It was not going to be easy, but she would be there to support us.” Katie and her Mormon boyfriend, Jake Giesting, got married six years ago and just welcomed their second daughter. “We could not be happier,” Katie said.

The dining room table of Freeman’s sunny condominium is elegantly set as she shares reflections, with an overflowing bowl of fresh fruit, coffee with cream in a tiny Lalique pitcher and three kinds of spreads for bagels, still warming.

“Not quite toasty enough,” she announces from the kitchen, where a sign over the sink reads, “What happens at grandma’s stays at grandma’s.” “It’s corny, but I love it,” she said.

By Gail Rosenblum

(Star Tribune (Minneapolis))

(MCT Information Services)