My father’s mother was a large woman with white hair and bright blue eyes.  She babysat me many times.  My grandfather died when I was seven, so from then on, it was her house. 

Starting from my first birthday, I remember homemade cakes with white frosting and the exact number of candles for my age.  She also gave me the exact amount of money.  When you are a farm kid growing up in a trailer in the country, five dollars for your fifth birthday is a lot of dollars.

I also remember her making cookies, which I loved to dunk.  

As I get older, memories from my childhood slip further away, so I am writing them down to keep track of them.  Grandma did this too, as she kept a journal for almost each day of her life, usually just the facts.  Beyond that, I wouldn’t know.  She didn’t have sharp opinions on things and didn’t speak her mind a whole lot.  She pretty much did what was right in front of her, whether it was picking bugs off geraniums in her flower plots or watching her favorite soap operas.  We ate meatball or alphabet-vegetable soup, then settled in on the davenport to watch Guiding Light or The Price is Right.   Home-cooked food and television, both comfortable staples in that house.  I never grew up with TV, so going to Grandma’s was a treat. 

There were after-dinner hours at night, when everyone would sit around the television eating ice cream.  A lot of wooden salad bowls filled with chocolate peanut-butter, which is still one of my favorites.  We watched Wheel of Fortune, Hee Haw, or The Lawrence Welk Show. 

I also think about accompanying her to the local Super Duper grocery store.  We drove down in her big blue truck with a cap on the back.  I do believe she clipped her coupons.  She also canned, and that was all lined up neatly in the basement.

I really miss that.  A lot.