My maternal grandmother Mary,
named after the virgin Mary, was
straight out of a fairytale. An elder,
dressed in old fashioned dresses,
her ever present handmade apron
to protect.
Her white hair, reaching low down
her back, was customarily rolled
into a bun of sorts, along the nape
of her neck. Truly a picture . . .
Grandma was quite religious.
She'd get in her old black 1951
Chevrolet 4-door Fastback and
go 'round the local area picking up
little old ladies much like herself.
The church members would meet
at different homes each Sunday.
An elder would read a passage
from the Bible followed with
silent prayer. Afterwards, a single
glass of grape juice would make
the rounds. Each member would
take a sip, wipe the glass with a
provided handkerchief and pass
it on. The infirm would wait to
partake until the end.
The surprise for me was that in the
afternoon Grandma would treat
herself to a Harlequin Romance.
When I arrived back in the US, I
bought her an entire box. She was
mortified . . . made me promise that
if she died, I would sneak them out
of her house before anyone saw them.
Sooooo find myself missing her . . .
To be continued . . .
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