Happy Birthday, Gram!

If she were still alive, my Gram would be 100 years old today.  This picture was taken on her 90th birthday, after she’d had a stroke. 

My Gram was a heck of a lady.  And I mean lady.  Shoes and purse always matched (see that’s why I need so many shoes and bags), and she was always tidy and well put together, right until the end. 

As a child I was a little afraid of Gram.  She was a tough bird, with good reason.  She didn’t like excessive giggling, which always made the older siblings giggle more (and the balloons flying and squealing around the house?  Not my doing!), but worried me.  She loved her grandkids so much, though, and always was glad to see us. 

When I was 19 she joined my folks and me on a road trip to Ohio for a family reunion on my dad’s side. During the long car ride, Gram taught me to crochet.  She was by no means a natural teacher, in fact, my mom says that’s why she doesn’t like to sew or do needlecraft.  But, I was stubborn and wouldn’t let her do the crochet for me; I forced her to let me learn it.  And by the end, I did.

During that reunion it was fun to have my two grandmothers at the same place at the same time.  My dad’s mother was pleased that I’d taken up crochet and gave me her mother’s yarn carrier.  It’s a tin canister, black with little pansy boquets all over it.  So, yeah.  Crochet reminds me mostly of Gram, but also of my Grandma A.

Every now and then on the face of one of my sisters, my cousin, my mom or aunt, and sometimes on my two goddaughter neices, I see the teasingly disapproving look that Gram would give when amused and pretending to be shocked.  She was, after all, the ultimate lady.  I’m sure I give out that look too.  Cause we women descended from her have something strong in us, something that can take a little shock with humor, take a lot of sadness with dignity.

Thanks for being a great example, Gram.  And thanks for the crochet.  I’m giggling now just for you.