Gertrude “Gert” Smythe walks around home in her high heels and puts “one last curl in her bangs” as she talks about things she’s learned throughout her life. In her 90 years, she’s discovered one of the most important things in life is relationships. She has lived in Warsaw for the past 15 years, moving from Mentone, where she grew up. She is 100 percent Irish and said her husband, Harold, noticed her Irish temper early on when they were married. “I still got it,” she said with a laugh. Smythe remembers living in Gary when her sister was born. She said they used to play in the sand dunes and they lived in their housing development, until the Great Depression forced her family to move back to Warsaw. They lived in a small cottage on Big Chapman Lake, hand built by her father for six years. She said they did not have running water or electricity, but she still had everything she needed. “I had my sis, mom and daddy,” she said. She attended school in Oswego until sixth grade, when she moved to Mentone. She recalls not having many clothes, because she and her family were “scratching” to make ends meet. Her wealthier cousins in Chicago would send her their hand-me-downs. She would cut the dresses up and sew them to fit her. “I was pretty dorky looking,” she said. “I was a freshman and I didn’t have any friends or any pretty clothes and mommy wouldn’t let me get a perm.” Smythe said her first year of higher education was really tough because at that age, everyone seemed to have close girlfriends and everyone was paired off. She tagged along with two of the kindest girls who adopted her into their clique because they “felt bad for her.” She said they are all still close friends today. “There’s a bond there that never gets undone,” she said. She met her husband during the war and she said she wore his engagement ring for 18 months until he was discharged. During this time, she formed close friendships with Grace Lewis and Phyllis Bowser because their significant others were also overseas. “When any of us got a letter, we all celebrated,” she said. Lewis was the first of the three to marry, followed by Bowser and then Smythe. She said they were married six weeks after Harold was discharged and they saved a little money to buy their own home across the street from her parents, which wasn’t very helpful when she and her husband would have arguments. “When girls were upset, they would go home,” she said. “I couldn’t go home because they only lived across the street.” Three years into their marriage they welcomed their first child, a son, and after another three years, a daughter. They needed to expand their home to accommodate their growing family, which made Gert look for a job, against her husband’s wishes. Creighton Brothers advertised for a bookkeeper and she felt this would be a good fit for her. “My husband wasn’t thrilled about it,” she said. “But I did it all, and sometimes supper was a rush, but we got it done.” She worked with Creighton Brothers for 25 years and she said she “must have done something right,” because she became a partner with the company. She decided she wanted some time to herself and she was starting to have grandchildren, so she retired from the company when she was 68. Her husband passed away on her birthday in 1988, and she lost her daughter to cancer. “We were a close family,” she said. “They’re my prized possessions.” She ended up raising her granddaughter Rachael and put her through high school and also through Indiana State, in Terre Haute. Twelve years ago, she quickly realized there was still something else she wanted to do. “I wanted to be a red hat lady, “ she recalled. She attended a meeting in Atwood hoping to join this group instead, but all the ladies were bunched together and they didn’t want to exceed 20 members. Smythe said when she and her two friends were denied access to the Atwood chapter, she created her own and they ended up with 24 members in their group called “The Red Hatties.” “You’re expected to act and dress like a lady when you put that hat on. We really didn’t do anything,” she said. “All we wanted was to wear red hats and go to nice restaurants.” The only thing The Red Hatties was missing was their “Queen.” This is the person who is in charge of organizing the group and their outings. Smythe took this title and held it proudly for 10 years. She said the group typically got along really well, but if anyone questioned her judgment, she was quick to remind them, “I’m the queen and I can do anything I want,” she said. “I didn’t make any of them too mad.” The group dwindled from 24 to eight members over the years due to deaths and other reasons. The remaining eight members still try to get together once a month, but now her few dozen red hats remain in her basement because the group will not wear them anymore because it “doesn’t look like the whole caboodle anymore.” “It was fun while it lasted,” she said. “It was an exciting part of my life.” Today, when she isn’t busy sewing or reading a John Grisham novel, she sits in her garden with her irises and continually builds new relationships with those around her. “All I need do is go outside and people admire my flowers,” she said. “I’ve picked up two nice friends this way.” She said she doesn’t want to be 90 or 100, but “her work is not done yet.” “My one dream in life was my husband to come home in one piece and have a family,” she said. “We got that done.”
