Goodbye Grandma

My Grandma Clark died today at 94 years old. She is holding my newborn brother here. I am on the right and about 3 years old.

It is hard to put the visions of her latest existence out of my head and try and remember her when she was young, and I do mean young. She was only 38 years old when I was born.
She was a fun Grandma then and would let us do most anything we wanted. My Grandparents lived on several acres of land that they used to raise cattle. I can remember going up there to spend time with them in the summer and riding horses bare back and taking walks unescorted down to the pond. At home I was not allowed to cross the street alone.

My Grandmother swore like a sailor. I remember her calling me and my cousins “little bastards” for putting the olives on our fingers and eating them off one year before our Thanksgiving dinner. I have a dear friend that has to spell H...E...L...L. It makes me laugh to think of the language I was raised on. I finally have cleaned mine up and don’t use much more than you hear on TV these days.

I always did look forward to our big family Thanksgiving dinners and getting together for other occasions. Grandma was a great “comfort food” cook and made wonderful gravy to go on top of mounds of mashed potatoes.

Grandma loved to quilt and make other crafts although her taste in colors was always a surprise. Thinking of that I think I will go upstairs and wrap myself in my vibrant turquoise quilt she made and try harder to remember all the fun we had.