Family, June's stupid life

My grandmother. 10/16/16 – 7/06/85

My grandmother died 26 years ago today. It was really early in the morning when it happened: a whole bunch of us were already at her house, sleeping, and she was at the hospital. I remember the phone ringing before dawn and my aunt answering the upstairs line.

"Did she die?" I heard her say.

I rolled over in bed and looked at the wall. I was 19, going to be 20 in 10 days. Back then I could still actually SEE the wall from bed. Now it's kind of a smudgy nothingness out there when I am lying in bed.

I spent every Friday night at my grandmother's, pretty much, until I was 14 or 15 and started going to parties and football games and so forth. Even then, I saw my grandmother constantly during the week.

Grammanwa My grandmother, at left, and her sister in 1941. Honestly, why can't I crop a simple photo?

I would often ask her who her favorite grandchild was and she'd refuse to answer. I think she thought I was an odd child. I say this because she would say, "June, you're an odd child." She did not understand my propensity for reading 86 hours a day, or for not wanting to play with other disgusting kids, or for being generally a nervous poodle of a thing.

Nevertheless, she adored me and I knew it. My uncle had a picture of me on her lap when I was way, WAY to old to be on her lap. I am all splayed out all over the chair like a pelican with my long legs. I would make my uncle, who is in India right now, find that picture and email it to me but it burned up along with all his other stuff years ago.

Gramma was hilarious without really meaning to be. She had good swear words. If she dropped something, it was "Horse shit sailor sonofabitch." She always said the entire thing.

Once a friend of my mother's was over, and gramma dropped something, and she said, "Hors–BANANAS." It was so OBVIOUS she had no intention of saying "bananas" except there was a guest there. Go, gramma. Subtle.

My grandmother had six children and one of them died as an infant. Recently we found that infant's baby book, and it was terrible. It was a normal baby book, full of firsts and observations, and then there was a mention that the baby was sick, and then her death date.

My grandfather was away fighting World War II, as everyone back then was wont to do, and gramma had two sons to raise, but she was devastated by this child's death. She wrote and wrote in that baby book, and I wonder if she ever told anyone else how bad she felt?

Gramma would have been a good blogger.

She graduated high school and didn't go further, and every card and letter I have from her has impeccable spelling and punctuation. She liked reading poems writing them and watching sad, maudlin TV shows and was a huge hypochondriac.

When Rock Hudson had AIDS, she told me, "That's what I've got."

"Gramma, I think that's pretty much impossible," I told her.

But she did have something. She had stupid stupid lung cancer, which by the way sucks and have I mentioned I detest cancer and would like to kick its ass?

Craftygram
Here we are doing something crafty, and the 949204 cigarette butts are killing me. Literally. I never saw gramma without a cigarette. Also, please note the scary clown paintings. I TOLD you they were nightmarish and crisis-inducing. Okay, so their heads are cut off and you can't tell. Trust me.

Also? Who totally remembers that Simon and Garfunkel poster in the kitchen like she saw it yesterday? Garfunkel has him some unfortunate hair.

FamMy eighth birthday. You wanna know what I want for my birthday? Bring everybody in that back row back to celebrate with me. That's what I want. Back there is my grandfather, the grandmother I am turning into, Uncle Jim and his hot self, and gramma.  (And since you're gonna ask, the next row is Aunt Kathy on the left and next to her is Aunt Mary who likes to shop. Then my parents and me and my friend Caroline Jeeter. I wonder whatever happened to Caroline Jeeter.) (I also wonder if I could have been wearing shorter shorts. What gives?)

One day I was 19 and home from college, I sat briefly in gramma's chair. It was an old lady chair, a La-Z-Boy, and next to it was a lamp that had a circular table attached, and I know that is totally an old lady thing to have but how CONVENIENT would it be to have a lamp and table combined? Her table had her coffee cup and cigarettes and Kleenex and pills and TV Guide and Vick's Vapo Rub and Ponds Cold Cream and pretty much every other old lady thing you can think of.

I have no idea why I even sat in her chair, but I looked down at her wastebasket full of Kleenex, and the Kleenex had blood on every single tissue.

"Oh my God," I remember thinking. "Gramma's coughing up blood." And then I got up off that chair and completely wiped that thought from my mind till she was diagnosed. Denial. It is a charming thing.

Gramma suffered with cancer from fall until the next July, and I happened to be home one weekend and staying with her. "Help me to the bed, I feel terrible," she said. Her color was off. "Should we call an ambulance?" I asked, still a nervous poodle.

"Yes, eventually, but not right now. I just want to go to bed."

So I took her arm, and all 100 pounds of me back then let her and her oxygen tank lean on me. When we got to the doorway, she moaned and fell to the floor.

Well.

Have you met me? Grace under pressure, is what I have. Here's a tip for you. Don't ever die around me, or cut yourself, or begin choking, because I will be so busy panicking that you will get no assistance.

I screamed and shrieked and flapped around until gramma opened her eyes.

"Honey, dial 911," she said.

Poor gramma. She still had to be in charge. Nevertheless, I literally DIALED 911, which took forever, and yelled her address into the phone, because I remember reading people used to say, "Send an ambulance" and hang up the phone, and that was before they could tell where you were calling from.

As soon as I said gramma's address, I could feel this blackness rising up from the bottom of me. I absolutely knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was gonna faint. Have I told you I am no good in a crisis?

"Gramma, do you need a pillow?"

"No, I'm okay," she said, never one to fuss.

"Then I will be RIGHT BACK." And I shot out the door and got the neighbor girl to come in with me. I think she was 15. We made a fine pair.

Anyway, a few days later gramma died. She was in and out of consciousness and one time I apologized for letting her hit the floor. "I don't remember that," she said. "Is that why my head hurts?"

Remember in the cartoons when they turned into first class heels? That was me right then.

My arm hurt where she had pulled on me, to try not to fall, up till the day she died. Then as soon as she was dead, it stopped.

I hope I get to see her again someday and apologize for being so useless. A lot of times on her birthday and sometimes her death date, I will smell cigarette  smoke.

So maybe that's her way of saying she already forgives me.

142 thoughts on “My grandmother. 10/16/16 – 7/06/85”

  1. Not to make this all about me or anything, but you wrote this the day of my father’s funeral. I’m glad I didn’t read it that day. I might have totally lost it. It’s a sweet remembrance. I hope I can get to a point where I am able to write one about my dad. He was a character in his own right.

    Like

  2. I remember the time i wore her sweatpants. I spilled something on myself at your house and we had to wash my pants. Luckily, your grandma was not a petite woman and you had one of her pairs of sweats on hand.

    Like

  3. I heart Pam’s hillbilly Mam-maw.I can see her sitting in her outhouse on the hill, taking a dump with the sawed-off shotgun in her hand, killing 13 snakes before breakfast. What you really want if you have no running water, is an outhouse on the hill, so that “everything” can flow into your well.
    5 miles up there on Black Mountain (2,500 feet) she was baking biscuits in her wood-fired oven, Pioneer Wonder-Mam-maw. Lordy!

    Like

  4. btw…didn’t mean she stood up again Great Grandma too – Grandma Rose loved me well too… see I was lazy with punctuation.
    Kinda like: I had to help my uncle Jack off a horse..” and “I had to help my uncle jack off a horse..”

    Like

  5. I’m definitely late to the party but I wanted to add how wonderful grandmothers are. My Grandmother stood up for me many times against the evil step mother and my Great Grandmother (who passed Sept 1979, I was 14) was a true warrior. I knew things were bad when I beat her at cards.
    I was with my Grandfather when he passed – and although it was awful that he died, he didn’t go bad – dinner he had 2 manhattans and a filet, after we put him in the car went for short walk on boardwalk (we were on Harsens Island) and when we returned he was gone. Of course there was the CPR and ambulance etc…. he was 94 – I’d like to go out after a filet dinner w/ two manhattans….

    Like

  6. GardenGirl ......This has been a wonderful day at BBP and I hope in some way we have comforted you in your loss today.. says:

    O-k-a-y then……Miss Pam wins the prize for the “toughest broad” grandma story today, for sure. Guns/snakes/demented roosters! I can’t even go near a mouse trap if I think it’s been sprung. :/
    Amish Annie: Join the club. I think we’re all “feelin’ it” today from this post. I “like sappy”, too. Really nice to see this side of all we sarcastic BBP commenters.

    Like

  7. Oh, and a another thing? Can I come to that birthday party in which the last row are the guests of honor?

    Like

  8. Beautifully written! Dove soap, cigarette smoke and poop and I am suddenly in Grandma’s bathroom, looking out the window at the green plastic awning covering the neighbor’s walk way up to the 2nd story apt. God, I miss her!!

    Like

  9. What a wonderful tribute to your grandmother, June! I, too, have enjoyed reading all of the grandparent stories. So many of these stories brought to mind one of my fondest memories with my maternal grandmother and great-grandmother.
    When I was a teenager, my parents were going through a rough time in their marriage, so my mother, sister, and I moved in with my maternal grandmother for a little while. This grandmother was, and still is, a recluse. Having only left her home a handful of times over the last 20-30 years. Somehow, one evening, we talked her into driving out into the country to visit her mother, who was in her 80s at that time. Having not seen each other in quite a long time, you can imagine how joyous the reunion was.
    During our visit, talk soon turned toward the resting places of relatives who had already passed on. Next thing I knew, we were barreling down country roads on the search for old cemeteries. I can still remember the feeling of the wind blowing through the open car windows, the sound of choirs of crickets chirping from the hillsides, and the laughter of a reunited daughter and mother coming from the backseat.
    For hours, well into the wee hours of the morning, there we were, four generations of women walking with flashlights through country cemeteries looking for the names of loved ones who had passed on before us. As we searched, we listened to story after story of times gone by, as my grandmother and great-grandmother chattered on and on like school girls.
    I’m always so thankful for that night. It’s funny how, at an awkward and confusing time in my life (teen years and the separation of my parents) I was able to find joy and a sense of security about who I was, while walking among gravestones in the middle of the night.

    Like

  10. Oh my, this is a beautiful day in Pieland! June and everyone else, your tributes are wonderful.
    My brother and I always thought Grandma N. was a very stern person. It wasn’t until the last few years that I realized why that might have been. She helped Grandpa in the drug store downtown Philadelphia, so when he hired a lady to keep up the house in Media, it was like having someone else raise the four children. Evenings and Sundays were the only days she was around to raise her own children – I wonder what she thought of that. It makes me sad for her. She and Grandma B. were both born in 1894 – a very different era in so many ways.
    I was the only granddaughter Grandma B. had – and when she was older she had two wishes: to reach the age of 75 and to see me married. She died three months after reaching those goals. Grandpa died in 1955 when I was 8 years old, and she died in 1969. That’s a long time to be a widow, and she filled her days giving children art classes and piano lessons and writing a column for the local newspaper. She’s the first person I knew who dotted each lower case I with a little circle. I smile when I remember her.
    Thank you, June for giving us space to tell of our loved ones.
    And Jules, please don’t feel bad – that one day you spent with your grandmother made up for the time you were not close. That time with her was the most precious parting gift you could have given her.

    Like

  11. Oh June.
    You made me cry. What with reading this, Baby girl being on her last paw and the 6th anniversary of my Mom’s death on Friday…maybe I just needed a good cry.
    I too have so many pictures where I would really like the whole back row back – even if it was for a few minutes.

    Like

  12. Nicely done. A beautiful post. I know we’ve compared our crazy grannies and their crazy behavior, but I had a saner granny on my father’s side who was only a teensy bit kooky and charmingly so. She died of leukemia when I was six months old. She declared she’d make it to see me born. Anyways, this reminded me of a post you did ages ago about how your grandmother always left the light on over the kitchen sink in the evenings. I remember I started crying when I read it because it reminded me of my crazy granny who would wash the dishes by hand, tidy away the kitchen, and then turn on the dim, flourescent light over the sink and head into the living room to watch Wheels. A small, insignificant little habit of hers that I hadn’t thought about in years, but was incredibly poignant and reminded me of many happy summer evenings.

    Like

  13. Amish Annie, even though I can make her fried chicken, it’s still never as good as hers because sometimes the breading falls off of mine. The potatoes peas and cream sauce is very easy. You use the liquid that you boiled your potatoes in and make a white rue with butter & flour and fresh chives. Sadly my mom passed before she was able to teach my son to make biscuits. I can not stand to have my hands touch raw dough-I have tried to make biscuits and every time I would just turn it over to my mom. We had decided to teach my son since I couldn’t stand it.

    Like

  14. Here’s my grandparent story… We lived in a small town with both sets of grandparents within blocks of our house. My maternal grandparents were already old and crippled up (as they would have said, without shame) by the time I was born. There were lots of us cousins who were all responsible for showing up on a regular basis and doing whatever needed doing. It’s hard to believe it now, but we enjoyed every minute. We weeded, we changed beds, we washed floors, we shelled peas. Grandma was a meticulous housekeeper, but she was confined to a wheelchair or walker most of my life. So what she couldn’t do, we did under her supervision. We learned to appreciate and take care of what we had, we learned to stretch a meal to serve whoever showed up at supper time, we learned to work without complaining… And we learned what it meant to be loved beyond measure. While we worked, we talked. About anything and everything. They never said “go away, I’m busy” or “hush! You talk too much!” like parents sometimes have to. They had the luxury of always being available and never being in a rush. And we had the luxury of having them in our lives.
    My regret? When I was a teenager they both had to be moved into a nursing home. I was too busy – too skeeved out by all the old people, really – to show up more than my parents were willing to force me to. I so wish I could have another chance to know then what I know now. I would have given them what they gave me all those years… The gift of loving them beyond measure.
    Lemon drops and and the smell of lemon Pledge bring all those memories back.

    Like

  15. Wouldn’t Butter Butt’s Gramma have loved Pieland today? It’s a sweet sweet tribute.
    My Mam-maw Kate was a real live hillbilly granny. She lived 5 miles up the highest mountain in Kentucky. No running water or electricity. An outhouse on the hill. She raised most of her own food, had a cow and chickens. She saved me from a snake once by shooting it’s head right off.(sorry Siren)
    She saved me from a demented rooster once by chopping it’s head right off. On second thought Siren would have loved Kate. We went to town to “trade” at Ball Brother’s Grocery and Feed. A farmer asked Mam-maw how she was doing and she said “I lordy, I believe I got me a brain tumor.” She was always dying of something. She was a stubborn, hardworking, biscuit bakin’ wonder. My youngest Kathryn is named for her.

    Like

  16. I hope more Grandma stories are posted, I am enjoying them immensely. Everyone is painting such a visual with their words, it’s like being transported to that moment and watching it unfold.

    Like

  17. GardenGirl ......This has been a wonderful day at BBP and I hope in some way we have comforted you in your loss today.. says:

    Commented this a.m. but came back now to read all the comments. Loving. Thanks, everybody.
    And Amish Annie, I noticed the hammock, too. I had a teal hammock growing up. And the same green/white woven folding chairs in the background, too. Loved that pic. Going back to study it again, now.
    June, what lead to your calling your parents by their first names?…..just 1970’s sassyness? One of my older sisters did that for a while. I thought it was awful at the time. My parents were very patient people…still are.
    I can 2nd (or 3rd) that your Mom was/is beautiful at all stages in life. My oldest sister had that long, straight, brunette hair, ala Love Story. I wish I’d had that hair, still. I got the thick, frizzy hair. And that’s how I bond with you, June! lol. Crackin’ myself up here sitting all alone. : )

    Like

  18. Texas Kari, that was so thoughtful of your grandmother! I would have been BESIDE myself to get any color nail polish. Never woulda noticed grammas bald head.

    Like

  19. Texas Kari who has really enjoyed these grandma stories. How many of them would still be here if it weren't for dumb cancer?! says:

    My grandmother who has already gone on to heaven died when I was only 5 and my sister was a small baby. Too many cancer sticks (cigarettes). I don’t know how my mother did it with a little girl, a tiny baby, and a very sick mother in and out of the hospital. Anyway, before she was too ill, my grandmother would take me to the beauty parlor with her and make a big deal about how I could get my nails done so fancy and I could pick whatever color I wanted even if it was a color my mother wouldn’t like. I found out later that she did all that fussing over my nails so that I would be busy at the beauty parlor and not notice her bald head when she was getting her wigs styled. She thought I would have been frightened to see her without any hair and I probably would have. I have very few memories of her, but my trips to the beauty parlor are firmly planted.
    Luckily my other grandmother who is still running the world is an awesome grandmother who wanted us around as often as possible when we were little. She’s the one I have mentioned on here before that toted her own shotgun around the prairies of Abilene, TX as a new bride. She gave up her gun years ago. I’m thinking firearms and cataracts are not compatible.

    Like

  20. Texas Kari who has really enjoyed these grandma stories. How many of them would still be here if it weren't for dumb cancer?! says:

    My grandmother who has already gone on to heaven died when I was only 5 and my sister was a small baby. Too many cancer sticks (cigarettes). I don’t know how my mother did it with a little girl, a tiny baby, and a very sick mother in and out of the hospital. Anyway, before she was too ill, my grandmother would take me to the beauty parlor with her and make a big deal about how I could get my nails done so fancy and I could pick whatever color I wanted even if it was a color my mother wouldn’t like. I found out later that she did all that fussing over my nails so that I would be busy at the beauty parlor and not notice her bald head when she was getting her wigs styled. She thought I would have been frightened to see her without any hair and I probably would have. I have very few memories of her, but my trips to the beauty parlor are firmly planted.
    Luckily my other grandmother who is still running the world is an awesome grandmother who wanted us around as often as possible when we were little. She’s the one I have mentioned on here before that toted her own shotgun around the prairies of Abilene, TX as a new bride. She gave up her gun years ago. I’m thinking firearms and cataracts are not compatible.

    Like

  21. Texas Kari who has really enjoyed these grandma stories. How many of them would still be here if it weren't for dumb cancer?! says:

    My grandmother who has already gone on to heaven died when I was only 5 and my sister was a small baby. Too many cancer sticks (cigarettes). I don’t know how my mother did it with a little girl, a tiny baby, and a very sick mother in and out of the hospital. Anyway, before she was too ill, my grandmother would take me to the beauty parlor with her and make a big deal about how I could get my nails done so fancy and I could pick whatever color I wanted even if it was a color my mother wouldn’t like. I found out later that she did all that fussing over my nails so that I would be busy at the beauty parlor and not notice her bald head when she was getting her wigs styled. She thought I would have been frightened to see her without any hair and I probably would have. I have very few memories of her, but my trips to the beauty parlor are firmly planted.
    Luckily my other grandmother who is still running the world is an awesome grandmother who wanted us around as often as possible when we were little. She’s the one I have mentioned on here before that toted her own shotgun around the prairies of Abilene, TX as a new bride. She gave up her gun years ago. I’m thinking firearms and cataracts are not compatible.

    Like

  22. This was beautiful–the post and the comments! Now I wish I could see my grandparents again–both sets lived in another state and we only saw them a couple of times a year, but I still have some good memories.

    Like

  23. I am loving all of these grandma stories.
    Pamela, I would have loved to meet your grandmother!
    Letha, I have my grandmother’s magazine rack. It is stained with cigarette smoke and on humid days the scent wafts through the office. It comforts me, oddly. I also have her engagement ring, which all of my aunts and mother felt I should have. I don’t know what touches me more. That she wanted me to have it, or that all of those wonderful women allowed me to.
    OK. Crying again.

    Like

  24. I couldn’t find a way to search for book club books but as I was tooling through October and November (for The Glass Castle), I found the cutest pictures of Eds as a baby (swoon) and Hulkie all dressed up and then I forgot what I was looking for and….where am I ? who am I??
    Sheesh. Ima just gonna read the rat bastard book.
    You want cute? October 7, 2010.
    And what ever happened to Pieces of Wisdom, eh?

    Like

  25. I couldn’t find a way to search for book club books but as I was tooling through October and November (for The Glass Castle), I found the cutest pictures of Eds as a baby (swoon) and Hulkie all dressed up and then I forgot what I was looking for and….where am I ? who am I??
    Sheesh. Ima just gonna read the rat bastard book.
    You want cute? October 7, 2010.
    And what ever happened to Pieces of Wisdom, eh?

    Like

  26. I couldn’t find a way to search for book club books but as I was tooling through October and November (for The Glass Castle), I found the cutest pictures of Eds as a baby (swoon) and Hulkie all dressed up and then I forgot what I was looking for and….where am I ? who am I??
    Sheesh. Ima just gonna read the rat bastard book.
    You want cute? October 7, 2010.
    And what ever happened to Pieces of Wisdom, eh?

    Like

  27. Sadie loved celebrating many birthdays with her and is hopeful to have inherited her genes. Her mind was sharp for all of her 98 years. says:

    Wonderful stories as unique as each grandparent. My father’s parents were both gone before he married so we never got to know them. My maternal grandfather lived only sixty-nine years. Thankfully, my grandmother lived a long life. She had nine children, but one daughter died as an infant and her oldest son of polio as a young man. She became a widow at the age of fifty-nine and never remarried. A quiet, calm woman who never learned to drive, she always had family nearby. Although quite hard of hearing in her older years, she always loved having family sit around the large kitchen table. Even if she could not distinguish the words in the many conversations, she could still converse on an individual basis.

    Like

  28. Sadie loved celebrating many birthdays with her and is hopeful to have inherited her genes. Her mind was sharp for all of her 98 years. says:

    Wonderful stories as unique as each grandparent. My father’s parents were both gone before he married so we never got to know them. My maternal grandfather lived only sixty-nine years. Thankfully, my grandmother lived a long life. She had nine children, but one daughter died as an infant and her oldest son of polio as a young man. She became a widow at the age of fifty-nine and never remarried. A quiet, calm woman who never learned to drive, she always had family nearby. Although quite hard of hearing in her older years, she always loved having family sit around the large kitchen table. Even if she could not distinguish the words in the many conversations, she could still converse on an individual basis.

    Like

  29. Sadie loved celebrating many birthdays with her and is hopeful to have inherited her genes. Her mind was sharp for all of her 98 years. says:

    Wonderful stories as unique as each grandparent. My father’s parents were both gone before he married so we never got to know them. My maternal grandfather lived only sixty-nine years. Thankfully, my grandmother lived a long life. She had nine children, but one daughter died as an infant and her oldest son of polio as a young man. She became a widow at the age of fifty-nine and never remarried. A quiet, calm woman who never learned to drive, she always had family nearby. Although quite hard of hearing in her older years, she always loved having family sit around the large kitchen table. Even if she could not distinguish the words in the many conversations, she could still converse on an individual basis.

    Like

  30. Oh, this was so lovely to read! (Butter butt!)
    Reading this post and all the comments today has exacerbated how much I miss my maternal grandparents. They were the best. My grandfather, every single Friday night when doing the Hebrew prayer before dinner, would say, “Amen. Ah! MEN!” with a wink, and every single time my grandmother would sigh and tsk at him, “Oh, Robert.” He would play Tea for Two on the piano and then break off and suddenly get up and start dancing her around the room.
    They were the biggest-hearted people I’ve ever known and I miss them all the time.
    The worst thing for me about deciding not to have kids is that I am the end of the family line, and that kills me when I think about them. 😦

    Like

  31. I don’t recall every hearing my grandparents cuss. Sometimes, though, they would switch from English to Slovak or Polish and methinks there was some swearing going on there.
    My Grandpa was very ashamed of his Eastern European origin. He even changed the family name from one ending in “ski” to a nice, solid non-ethnic name. If he had his druthers, he would have been born a member of the English Landed Gentry.
    My Grandma would call him a “Pompous Ass” whenever she felt he was putting on airs.

    Like

  32. Oh June, a great tribute!
    Oh Mother!
    Oh Hulk!
    Oh Laney!
    All of you have touched my heart. We did take note of John’s little revelation, Butter Butt. OMG, you called your mom and dad by their names!
    Both my grandmothers dipped snuff. My brother and I spent a lot of time with our maternal grandmother. We got more spankings for kicking over the spit can that Pop (grandfather) used on the porch while he lounged in the swing. I can hear her now, “Jonas, why’d you let these younguns kick over this spit can?” Also, I learned most of my cooking skills watch her cook.

    Like

  33. I should not read this blog while participating on conference calls. I am either laughing or in the case of today, crying. Sigh.
    June, so sweet.I love that you are becoming your grandmother.
    Hulk and all – your stories and memories are nothing short of beautiful.
    I miss my grandparents so bad, but I cannot put it into words like you have. I’ll just use yours if that is okay. I never heard my grandparents swear, ever. But I suspect that when they switched from English to Czech, that may have been what was going on.

    Like

  34. Amish Annie can see herself eating Heather's Nanny's biscuits and gravy and fried chicken while lounging on that fringed hammock. All I would need to make it perfect is a Tab and a Tiger Beat magazine. says:

    Heather, the description of your Nanny’s meal made my mouth water, seriously. Red potatoes with fresh peas and cream sauce? I want it right now even though I’ve never had it. Wondering if you were ever able to procure recipes from her.
    No one has mentioned the groovy teal colored hammock with fringe. I want that too.

    Like

  35. Such wonderful Grandmother memories! I lost my last one 2 years ago at the age of 93 to Alzheimer’s. Not a good way to go either. She remembered things from way, way back though. She had my uncle, then my mom and my aunt wasn’t born till 8 years later. When my grandmother was in the hospital for the last time, she was halucinating and at one point she sat straight up in bed and said “Burt, I’m tired and don’t want any more babies. I’m going to just sew it up!”. Oh, and she loved to read and I would send her books like the Mitford series, thinking that was nice and tame. She told me once that the books I sent her were boring because there was no sex in them. I guess she told me!

    Like

  36. Such wonderful Grandmother memories! I lost my last one 2 years ago at the age of 93 to Alzheimer’s. Not a good way to go either. She remembered things from way, way back though. She had my uncle, then my mom and my aunt wasn’t born till 8 years later. When my grandmother was in the hospital for the last time, she was halucinating and at one point she sat straight up in bed and said “Burt, I’m tired and don’t want any more babies. I’m going to just sew it up!”. Oh, and she loved to read and I would send her books like the Mitford series, thinking that was nice and tame. She told me once that the books I sent her were boring because there was no sex in them. I guess she told me!

    Like

  37. Such wonderful Grandmother memories! I lost my last one 2 years ago at the age of 93 to Alzheimer’s. Not a good way to go either. She remembered things from way, way back though. She had my uncle, then my mom and my aunt wasn’t born till 8 years later. When my grandmother was in the hospital for the last time, she was halucinating and at one point she sat straight up in bed and said “Burt, I’m tired and don’t want any more babies. I’m going to just sew it up!”. Oh, and she loved to read and I would send her books like the Mitford series, thinking that was nice and tame. She told me once that the books I sent her were boring because there was no sex in them. I guess she told me!

    Like

Comments are closed.