Page takes some time to load due to a ton of graphics. I think you'll find the wait worth it. Also, quite a few are animated - please hit reload if nothing is moving.

Welcome

to

Granny Greetings

A collection of oldie-goldies, funnies, memories, original compositions and personal tributes

Insanity* is hereditary, you get it from your children.
But then ... the paybacks are royal!

I don't know how y'all feel - I took it very personally when the first of my friends announced her new life status promotion (she knows who she is!). All in all, better her than me - never was the motherly type. But ... moi? Grannies for girlfriends? Heavens to Betsy ... OMG, it's rubbing off already :)

Due to the fact that I have no children,*I have to make myself crazy. Been doing a beautiful job of it too by turning into my mother. A predominate manifestation involves soap slivers; pleasure derived from a successful "glue job." Certain odd combos qualify as real art! All those years I thought my mother was just cheap.

Scissors possession obsession was another issue I had to experience for myself. Husbands, kids, even neighbors will steal them if they're not locked up. Have I ever used a man's razor to shave my legs? OK, maybe once ... more than likely an unconscious retaliation for carving on my counter and Silverstone abuse. Ya gotta watch 'em every minute. A brand new Baker's Secret roasting pan became permanently assigned to the garage after doing service as an oil change pan. I still can't talk about the mindless disregard for the sanctity of a matched set of towels. For the rest of the story see "Get Thee to a Pit" - a little before halfway down the Bright Spots page.

Perpetuating a cycle (after all, the only difference between men and boys is the price of their toys), I've even called on cookie concealment tactics, well-learned at Mother's knee. In the kid department, it's best I've stuck to four-legged type, they may not forget, but they do forgive.

I never had the chance to know my own grannies well, they were very old when I was very young. Grandma F. lived with us for a short while though. The one thing I will never forget was her remedy for the boils I got on my butt from a "Slip 'n' Slide" - remember those? S & Ss ... not my boils - maybe your granny would have mixed up a butter and sugar paste to apply too. Yeccchh!

Grandma F. was a fairly large woman with a more-than-ample bosom - no fair! What happened to heredity??? Her needlework usually rested on that shelf. My mother never stitched as much as a button in her whole life, now I'm the one with the magnifying glass trying to find the eye to thread. Obviously some genes materialized - oooh, sorry, bad pun.

Grandma J. was sooo tiny and quiet, almost like she wasn't there at all. Always dressed in taffeta or such with lace and ruffles, the perfect lady sipping tea - a flawless granny image, complete with old-time fragrance.

Grace Forsyth and Alberta Jones circa mid, maybe late 1950s

Wonder what they'd think of me? It's certainly possibly they had some wild and wooly times of their own. This photo is marked Indian Territory, Grace seated. No clue who the man (?) is. By (?), I mean I'm not sure the other person is a man, seems like I remember something about a play or maybe a modeling job. Have always loved the pic because of the tassels. The furnishings (most cropped out) in the rooms on either side of wood framed opening suggest a parlor and living room more than a studio.

Alberta Jones, could be engagement photo

Grace Forsyth, might also be engagement

Just finished "Wild Women" by Autumn Stephens, from The Conari Press. Could be the tales of "crusaders, curmudgeons and completely corsetless ladies in the otherwise virtuous Victorian era" started me down granny memory lane. I'll be adding a few quotes here that are representative of those times. We have come a long way baby, but it is most interesting how many things haven't changed.

"Reforms are slow, but they never go backward." - Belva Lockwood, who in 1876 was denied permission to practice before the U.S. Court of Claims. After a five-year battle with Congress to pass a bill guaranteeing that no citizen would "be excluded as an attorney ... from any court of the United States on account of sex," the persistent plaintiff became the first woman sworn in by both the Supreme Court and the Court of Claims. By 1884, Lockwood announced herself as candidate for the U.S. presidency.

Elizabeth Angel Forsyth,Grandpa's mother

I am by no means a feminist in the usual sense, however, the following certainly rings true today. "We shall never have rights until we take them, or respect until we command it." - B.L.

A personal note on respect (at risk of offending the militant, on purpose for screwing up way too many of the few fundamental feminine perks): Having a door opened is exactly that - respect, honor, consideration, appreciation and esteem - no matter what age the lady happens to be. Real gentlemen perpetuate the practice and are to be congratulated for ignoring the hostile.

A "dandy" Grandpa Hugh Forsyth
Dig the set - chair is real, background is painted. I don't have a pic of Grandpa Jones, hoping someone in the family will come up with one. Next are for my nieces and nephews, their Grandpa Jones. I don't think they've seen them. I've had Daddy in his wagon in the copper pounded frame for years.

Ralph Jones

One of how many? summers spent on a friend's ranch in New Mexico during college.

Some of the top times my little brother and I ever had were Sundays at riding stables. (The older kids had their own horses before we moved to the city, gawd was I always jealous.) Best part of the outing was getting there. There were several fountains we had to stop and splash in and a particular tunnel that had to be honked in all the way through - Daddy knew best :)

This page is for grandpas too because they were lucky enough to win very special ladies' hands.

During my brother's wedding, my mother managed to keep from crying - until she glanced at my grandparents. My grandmother had reached over to my grandfather's wheelchair and gently touched his hand.

After the wedding, Mom went over to my grandmother and told her how that tender gesture triggered her outburst. "Well, I'm sorry to ruin your moment," Grandmother replied, "but I was just checking to see if he'd fallen asleep."

The Sunday after Labor Day, as the leaves turn gold, is the time chosen to honor those in their golden years: grandparents. National Grandparents' Day is a time for families to gather and share stories, traditions, and memories among the generations. A relatively new holiday, Grandparents Day became official in 1978. The push for a day that honored the elderly was started by Marian Lucille Herndon McQuade, a West Virginia housewife and grandmother of 40 who was an advocate for seniors. Five years after West Virginia proclaimed a Grandparents' Day, President Jimmy Carter signed a bill establishing National Grandparents' Day. Send a G-day card today, why wait! http://greetings.emazing.com/gr/gparentsday.htm

One lady will always be quite grand to me, Lena Stingley. She was a combination granny-type and nanny (for lack of a better word). In any case, I spent more time with her than Mother. Evidently Mrs. S., widowed with no kids of her own, claimed me as her personal property very early on and I could do no wrong. The older kids teased me unmercifully, calling me Little Lena. She came to our house Monday and left Thursday, taking me as often as I could manage.

Lena Stingley and me

We had to take a bus from where Daddy dropped us off on the way to his office. I always looked forward to a chat with a man who told me he'd see me in the funny papers as he got off at the stop right before ours. High adventure, going all the way downtown was a big deal. 

Mrs. S. lived with her sister Nell in a wonderful, toasty, old house with a parlor and a wind-it door bell. There was even a fainting couch tucked under the stairway, right next to a shelf full of delicate perfume bottles I can almost still smell. The heat came from an ornate wood burning pot-bellied stove in the living room, which also doubled as a sewing room for alteration work done on pedal-foot machines. Very often I received specially addressed packages with doll clothes made to match dress creations for me. Later, Barbie's boutique was stocked with designer originals too. Could any little girl ask for cooler than that?

It was a privilege to investigate the barn (long out of animal use but loaded with treasure). We puttered in the garden, I had my own rows to tend. We baked with flour and sugar that was stored in dispensing bins in a huge tin cabinet. We had tea parties, and spent long hours reading books from long ago. When I went to camp, it was Mrs. S. who made sure Jennifer (Great Dane) wrote regularly - wonder where I got the idea for Libby's columns ... I hope somehow she knows what an influence she was and how much I appreciate the results.

Two elderly ladies had been friends for many decades. Over the years they had shared all kinds of enterprises and flyers. Their activities had, at last, been limited to meeting a few times a week to play cards.

One day, one looked at the other and said, "Now don't get mad at me ... I know we've been friends for a long time ... but I just can't think of your name! I've thought and thought, but I can't remember it. Please tell me what your name is."

Her friend glared at her. For at least three minutes she just stared and glared at her. Finally she said, "How soon do you need to know?"

LOL - it won't be long ... almost there now!

"Grandma, do you know how you and God are alike?"

Mentally polishing her halo, she asked, "No, how are we alike?"

"You're both old."

Grandma's on the internet,
You won't believe the nuts she's met.
But what she'd really like to know
Is where are those who quilt and sew.
And do the things she likes to do?
She'd give them hints, and learn some too.

She used to be "scared" of a wee little mouse,
Would scream if one ever got in the house.
Now she hugs one night and day,
She'd rather cuddle it than stay
On the couch and watch t.v.
Her first love now is her P.C.

Windows were glass she'd wash and look through,
Now they are programs to help her view
The earth and the sea and the beautiful sky.
A virus was something from which you could die.
Now it's a nuisance that could spoil your day,
But it can be fixed and sent on its way.

She served her time with diapers and dishes,
Now she can do whatever she wishes.
And if that means staying up half the night
To point arrows at icons - that's really alright.

A bit was something you had little of,
Now it takes eight bytes to make the above.
It's all so confusing, it makes her head ache.
A byte was something you take from a cake.
She's learning more about it now,
Her four-year-old grandchild showed her how.

That inspired another, personal granny bit ...

Of course I have made up grandkids pages,
And keep all my friends up to date on their ages,
But more fun is posting pics from motorcycle trips,
And downloading software and games using zips.

Another use is to sell my wares,
And get my friends matched up in pairs.
I love to make new friends all over ...
I even found myself a lover!
jag

"That's It! I'm Calling Grandma!" - (on an 8-year-old's T-shirt)

"Do what you are afraid to do." - Mary Emerson, Ralph Waldo Emerson's aunt. From"Wild Women" ... "The driving force in the early life of that revered religious rebel, Ms. Emerson deemed it her duty to see that young Ralph didn't commit the mortal sin of mediocrity."

Midlife is when the growth of the hair on our legs slows down. This gives us plenty of time to care for our newly acquired mustache.

Midlife women no longer have upper arms, we have wingspans, we are no longer women in sleeveless shirts, we are flying squirrels in drag.

Midlife has hit when you stand naked in front of the mirror and can see your rear end without turning around.

Midlife is when you bounce (a lot), but you don't bounce back. It's more like splat!

Midlife is when you want to grab every firm young lovely in a tube top and scream, 'Listen, honey, even the Roman Empire fell, and those things will too!'

Midlife is when you realize that if you were a dog, you would need a control top flea collar.

Midlife is when you go to the doctor and you realize you are now so old, you have to pay someone to look at you naked.

You know you are getting old when you go for a mammogram and you realize it is the only time someone will ask you to appear topless in a film.

Midlife brings the wisdom that life throws you curves and that you're now sitting on your biggest ones.

Midlife can bring out your angry, bitter side. You look at your latte-swilling, beeper-wearing know-it-all teenager and think, for this I have stretch marks?

Midlife is when your memory really starts to go: the only thing you still retain is water.

The good news about midlife is that the glass is still half-full. Of course, the bad news is that it won't be long before your teeth are floating in it.

You know you've crossed the midlife threshold when you're in the grocery store and you hear a Muzak version of "Stairway to Heaven" in the produce department.

It's very hard to get jiggy with it in midlife. Jiggley, yes; jiggy, no.

Midlife is when your 1970s Body-by-Jake now includes Legs-by-Rand McNally (more red and blue lines than an accurately scaled map of the state of Wisconsin).

Midlife is when you start to repeat yourself and your chins follow suit.

You become more reflective in midlife. You start pondering the big questions: what is life, why am I here and how much Healthy Choice ice cream can I eat before it's no longer a healthy choice?

The older you get, the tougher it is to lose weight because by then, your body and your fat are really good friends.

I'm in shape. Round is a shape.

Know what Victoria's Secret is? Nobody older than 30 can fit into their stuff.

My wild oats have turned to shredded wheat!

My doctor said to take my iron every day.

Real women don't have hot flashes ... they have power surges.

It's hard to be nostalgic when you can't remember anything.

Furniture Disease: chest falling into drawers.

When I was in my younger days,
I weighed a few pounds less,
I didn't hold my tummy in
to wear a belted dress.

But now that I am older,
I've set my body free;
There's comfort of elastic
Where once my waist would be.

Inventor of those high-heeled shoes
My feet have not forgiven;
I have to wear a nine now,
But used to wear a seven.

And how about those pantyhose -
They're sized by weight, you see,
So how come when I put them on,
The crotch is at my knees?

I need to wear these glasses
As the prints were getting smaller;
And it wasn't very long ago
I know that I was taller.

Though my hair has turned to silver
and my skin no longer fits,
On the inside, I'm the same old me,
Just the outside's changed a bit.

Real Mothers don't eat quiche; they don't have time to make it.

Real Mothers know that their kitchen utensils are probably in the sandbox.

Real Mothers often have sticky floors, filthy ovens and happy kids.

Real Mothers know that dried play dough doesn't come out of shag carpets.

Real Mothers don't want to know what the vacuum just sucked up.

Real Mothers sometimes ask "why me?" and get their answer when a little voice says, "because I love you best."

Real Mothers know that a child's growth is not measured by height or years or grade. It is marked by the progression of Ma-ma to Mommy to Mom.

A mother of boys works from Son up 'till Son down.

One day a little girl was sitting and watching her mother do the dishes. She suddenly noticed that her mother had several strands of white hair sticking out in contrast to her brunette hair. The little girl asked, "Why are some of your hairs white, Mom?"

Her mother replied, "Well, every time that you do something wrong and make me cry or unhappy, one of my hairs turns white."

The little girl thought about this revelation for a while and then said, "Momma, how come all of Grandma's hairs are white?"

"Walk a little slower, Daddy"
Said a little child so small.
"I'm following in your footsteps,
And I don't want to fall.

Sometimes your steps are very fast,
Sometimes they're hard to see;
So walk a little slower, Daddy,
For you are leading me.

Someday when I'm all grown up,
You're what I want to be;
Then I will have a little child
Who'll want to follow me.

And I would want to lead just right,
And know that I was true;
So, walk a little slower, Daddy,
For I must follow you."
author unknown

"Yes, Mother, I can see you are flawed. You have not hidden it. That is your greatest gift to me." - Alice Walker

Please do not stand here and talk, whine, or ask questions.
Wait until I get out.
Yes, it is locked.
I want it that way.
It is not broken, I am not trapped.
I know I have left it unlocked, and even open at times, since you were born, because I was afraid some horrible tragedy might occur while I was in there, but it's been years and I want some privacy.

Do not ask me how long I will be, I will come out when I am done.
Do not bring the phone to the bathroom door.
Do not go running back to the phone yelling "She's in the bathroom!"
Do not begin to fight as soon as I go in.
Do not stick your little fingers under the door and wiggle them. That was only funny when you were two.
Do not slide pennies, Legos, or notes under the door. Even when you were two, that got a little tiresome.

If you have followed me down the hall talking, and are still talking as you face this closed door,please turn around, walk away, and wait for me in another room. I will be glad to listen to you when I am done.

Oh ... and yes, I still love you.

Mom

   Write to Mawmn47@aol.com to request a personalized copy of CRAFT tag.

Women over 50 don't have babies because they would put them down and forget where they left them.

Grandchildren are the reward for not killing your children.

There is only one pretty child in the world and every mother has it. - Chinese Proverb

Mothers of teens know why animals eat their young.

I asked Mom if I was a gifted child ... she said they certainly wouldn't have paid for me.

Children are natural mimics, who act like their parents despite every effort to teach them good manners.

Children seldom misquote you. In fact, they usually repeat word for word what you shouldn't have said.

The main purpose of holding children's parties is to remind yourself that there are children more awful than your own.

We child proofed our home three years ago and they're still getting in!

My mind not only wanders, it sometime leaves completely.

"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love."

Eventually you will reach a point when you stop lying about your age and start bragging about it.

Don't let anyone tell you you're getting old. Squash their toes with your rocker!

The older we get, the fewer things seem worth waiting in line for.

Some people try to turn back their odometers. Not me, I want people to know "why" I look this way. I've traveled a long way and some of the roads weren't paved.

Maturity means being emotionally and mentally healthy, it is that time when you know when to say yes and when to say no, and when to say "Whoopee!"

How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are?

When you are dissatisfied and would like to go back to youth, think of algebra.

You know you are getting old when everything either dries up or leaks.

I don't know how I got over the hill without getting to the top.

The golden years are really metallic years, gold in the tooth, silver in your hair and most of all lead in the pants..

Life would be infinitely happier if we could only be born at the age of 80 and gradually approach 18.

Age seldom arrives smoothly or quickly. It is more often a succession of jerks.

Being young is beautiful, but being old is comfortable.

Old age is when former classmates are so gray and wrinkled and bald they don't recognize you.

If you don't learn to laugh at trouble, you won't have anything to laugh at when you are old.

First you forget names, then you forget faces. Then you forget to pull up your zipper, then ... oh my goodness you forget to pull your zipper down!

Do you realize that the only time in our lives when we like to get old is when we're kids? If you're less than 10 years old, you're so excited about aging that you think in fractions. "How old are you?" "I'm four and a half. You're never 36 and a half ...You're four and a half going on 5.

You get into your teens; now they can't hold you back. You jump to the next number. "How old are you?" "I'm gonna be 16." You could be 12, but you're gonna be 16. Eventually. Then the great day of your life; you become 21. Even the words sound like a ceremony. You become 21 ...Yes!! Then you turn 30. What happened there? Makes you sound like bad milk. He turned; we had to throw him out. What's wrong? What changed? You become 21; you turn 30. Then you're pushing 40 ... stay over there.

You reach 50. Then you make it to 60. By then you've built up so much speed, you hit 70. After that, it's a day by day thing. You hit Wednesday ... You get into your 80s; you hit lunch, you hit 4:30.

My grandmother won't even buy green bananas. "Well, it's an investment, you know, and maybe a bad one." And it doesn't end there ... Into the 90s, you start going backwards. "I was just 92." Then a strange thing happens; if you make it over 100, you become a little kid again. "I'm 100 and a half."

What's a Grandmother?
A Letter from a Third-grader

       A grandmother is a lady who has no children of her own. She likes other people's little girls and boys. A grandfather is a man grandmother. He goes for walks with the boys, and they talk about fishing and stuff like that. Grandmothers don't have to do anything except to be there. They're so old that they shouldn't play hard or run. It is enough if they drive us to the market where the pretend horse is, and have lots of dimes ready. Or if they take walks, they should slow down past things like pretty leaves and caterpillars. They should never say "hurry up."

       Usually, grandmothers are fat, but not too fat to tie your shoes. They wear glasses and funny underwear. They can take their teeth and gums off. Grandmothers don't have to be smart, only answer questions like, "Why isn't God married?" and "How come dogs chase cats?"

Grandmothers don't talk baby talk like visitors do, because it is hard to understand. When they read to us they don't skip or mind if it is the same story over again. Everybody should try to have a grandmother, especially if they don't have a television, because they are the only grown-ups who have time.

One of the mysteries of life is how the boy who wasn't good enough to marry your daughter, can be the father of the smartest grandchild in the world.

A woman in Florida was boring fellow beachcombers as she bragged on and on about her two remarkable grandchildren.

Unable to stand it any longer, a fellow sunbather interrupted her, "How old are your grandsons?"

"The doctor is four and the lawyer is six."

My forgetters getting better,
But my rememberer is broke.

For when I'm "here" I'm wondering
If I really should be "there"
And, when I try to think it through,
I haven't got a prayer!

Oft times I walk into a room,
Say "what am I here for?"
I wrack my brain, but all in vain
A zero, is my score.

At times I put something away
Where it is safe, but, gee!
The person it is safest from
Is, generally, me!

When shopping I may see someone,
Say "Hi" and have a chat,
Then, when the person walks away
I ask myself, "who's that?"

Yes, my forgetters getting better,
While my rememberer is broke.

author unknown

We'd wish our kids were small again ...

If we were granted any wish, I'll tell you what we'd do,
We'd wish our kids were small again, for just a month or two.
To hear their squeals of laughter, to watch them while they play.
And when they ask us to join in, we wouldn't say, "Not today."
To hug again their chubby frames, to kiss away their tears,
and cherish childhood innocence that washed away the years.
Then when it's story time again, we'd stay a little longer,
to answer questions, sing the songs, so memories would be stronger.
But time is callous, wishes, myth, yet God in all his wisdom,
has given us another chance before we join his kingdom.
Your faces may not be just the same, your names are changed, 'tis true,
but yet the smile that radiates, reminds us so much of you.
God must have known that grandparents would need a chance or two.
For many little happy things we hadn't time to do.
So God gave love to grandparents to equal that before, that,
in effect embraces those little lives they bore.

Author Unknown

This note arrived in the middle of working on this page - how apropos ... "I'll order your book soon. Got a second little guy who will be eating table food and I have no skills!!!!!! Don't know how my first little guy made it to age 6 ... must be all the time at Gma's house where she cooks 'real food' as my son informs me - LMAO."

Humming the "Sound of Music" tune, a few favorite things ...

Maalox and nose drops and needles for knittin',
Walkers and handrails and new dental fittin's,
Bundles of magazines tied up with string,
These are a few of my favorite things.

Cadillacs, cataracts, hearing aids, glasses,
Polident, Fixodent, false teeth in glasses,
Pacemakers, golf carts and porches with swings,
These are a few of my favorite things.

When the pipes leak, when the bones creak, when the knees go bad,
Then I remember my favorite things and then I don't feel so bad.

Hot tea and crumpets, and corn pads for bunions,
No spicy hot food and no food with onions,
Bathrobes and heat pads and hot meals they bring,
These are a few of my favorite things.

Back pains, confused brains, and no fear of sinnin',
Thin bones and fractures and hair that is thinnin',
And we won't mention our short shrunken frames,
When we remember our favorite things.

When the joints ache, when the hips break, when the eyes grow dim
Then I remember the great life I've had, And then I don't feel so bad.

I'm a Grandma-I get to Play!

I'm a grandma, a wise older woman with my own way of doing things. My granddaughter and I are lucky to have each other - I wish I had a grandma myself right now. You get by with more and have more fun with Grandma. I know this is true about lots of grandpas too. I hope I did lots of these things when I was just a mom. But even if I didn't have the time or think of it then, I do now and I am glad.

Grandmas aren't afraid to ask for a cookie at the grocery store, even for themselves. They make the best chocolate chip cookies and lemonade.

Grandmas always have enough room in their bag for crackers, for apples and cheese, for water or juice. They know that hot dogs and hamburgers are better than almost anything else when you're eating out.

Grandmas know where the fun parks and beaches are. They don't care if you spill or get dirty. They never get mad, unless they get scared if you run off and don't tell them where you're going. Grandmas can spend three hours at a playground without getting crabby. They know it's more fun to push you very high on swings.

Grandmas usually have time to read a story or listen to yours.

They like you to call even if you don't have anything special to say.

Grandmas buy you presents on trips, even when it's not your birthday. They take you to pumpkin patches and Christmas tree farms. Grandmas help make Easter eggs, and let you keep all the Easter candy.

They don't make you take naps when you're having fun.

Grandmas keep the rocks and driftwood you found together by their windows. They know the good places to look and to hide when you play hide and seek.

Grandmas take you to Velveteen Rabbit at Children's Theater and to bookstores. They take you to parades and talk to the clowns so you're not scared of them.

Grandmas always have peanut butter and jelly and soft bread even when you don't eat your vegetables.

They don't say "Let me do that" when you sweep the floor or wipe the table.
   
Grandmas are always ready to bake cookies and they let you lick the bowl, unless they get to it first.

They can talk you into being quiet for 20 minutes in the bathroom while they have a hot bath. Then they are ready to play again.

    Grandmas sing "Eentsy weentsy spider" and "B-i-n-g-o" and "Old MacDonald" and listen to your new songs from day care all the way through. They keep a Grandma book of all the fun things you've said and done.

Grandmas dress for comfort. They say "It's high time I can wear what I feel like." They sometimes look fat in swimsuits, but who cares? They go to the wading pool, and even go in if you want them to.

Grandmas aren't afraid to say, "No, I don't want to."

They eat at Senior Centers so they don't have to cook and they can laugh with friends.

Grandmas point out flowers and fountains in yards, and say "It's ok" when you shout, "There's a bee!"

They'll let you pet every dog that goes by if the owner says it's okay.

Grandmas seem to have fun playing checkers, cards or computer games - they don't say "Later," or "Pick up your toys first."

They shout in the echo tube at the Science Center and aren't embarrassed.

Grandmas wear aprons and give you one to wear when you make pancakes. They wear Winnie the Pooh shirts and floppy hats and sometimes shawls.

Grandmas play kazoo and blow bubbles and share play dough with you.
They don't pull you away when you play with pay telephones.

Grandmas ask you not to run so fast in the children's museum so they can keep up with you.

They encourage you to come down the slide on your belly and back and side to show how brave you are.

Grandmas let you pull the cord for the bus stop and don't say "Hurry up!"

They don't scold you when you don't come from the beach right away.

Grandmas make monkey noises at the zoo and stay as long as you want by the hippopotamus. They tie your braids around the pole in the bus when you ask them to.

Grandmas don't get cranky when you're afraid of firecrackers and loud noises. They don't make you feel ashamed when you won't go near the costumed character in the kiddie parade.

Grandmas get excited by plums and apples and pears they pick from the ground.

They are happy to eat and drink from your play dishes and ask for more if it's really good.

Grandmas understand when you put your bunny in the corner because he's been bad.

They giggle at the box that you press that says "Excuse me! Excuse me. Let me out of here!"

Grandmas ask you to go get a Satsuma ("a baby orange") and they just grin when you ask "Where are the mamas?" They let you put them to bed in the playhouse and sing them to sleep.
   
Grandmas like to tape record you singing and talking and you can listen to it later for fun.
They can talk you into being quiet for 20 minutes in the bathroom while they have a hot bath. Then they are ready to play again.

Grandmas love you just because you show up!

They love you just like Christopher Robin loves Pooh. I wish I had a Grandma!!

Moreah Vestan is a speaker, writer and has been a personal and professional coach since 1998. She has an M.A. in adult education, has been a relationship columnist for 9 years, and is committed to compassionate communication (see www.cnvc.org). For more information, visit her site: http://communicationcoaching.net/

Wish I was a Bear

If you're a bear, you get to hibernate. You do nothing but sleep for six months. I could deal with that.

Before you hibernate, you're suppose to eat yourself stupid. I could deal with that, too.

If you're a mama bear, everyone knows you mean business. You swat anyone who bothers your cubs. If your cubs get out of line, you swat them too.

Your mate expects you to growl when you wake up. He expects you to have hairy legs and excess body fat.

I wish I was a bear.

The mother of three notoriously unruly youngsters was asked whether or not she'd have children if she had it to do over again.

"Sure," she replied, "but not the same ones."

Tales of a Young Grandma

At long last! I finally, after two tries, found the right husband. As they say the third time's a charm! My younger one will be a senior in high school, the older one is engaged, and my life is about to be my own.

Then comes the phone call from Oklahoma - my son lives there - they have moved up the wedding date and I am going to be a grandma! Yeah right! Quit pulling my leg. I'm 42 and too young for grandmahood! No, it's for real. Okay I can deal with that; it's called time for paybacks! Paybacks like for the time I was feeding him spinach. No, I don't have a cruel streak - the doctors said it was good for him and like all mothers everywhere we want what's best for our babies right? Well, the only thing spinach was good for was decorating the ceiling and blue velveteen couch.

Okay - I can adjust and then it hits me. Spoil the baby and send him home. I can handle this grandma thing. If my son and his wife say anything, well, I'll just tell them it's in the Grandma's Handbook that I can do that!

Okay, we get through the weddings, mine and my son's, and we get through Christmas. Then the phone calls all hours of the day and night start. "Mom we have a question. She's doing, or feeling, etc. Is this normal; what do you think?" I'd like to tell them to get a grip but I try to comfort them. Now mind you they never call on their dime - oh noooooooooo. They call collect! Gee - this grandma stuff may not be all that it's cracked up to be.

So my son's church decides to have a baby shower in March. "Mom could you bring down the crib that Grandma Great bought for the baby? And the chest of drawers that you're giving us?" I get home from my part-time job at 11p.m. one Friday, load the Chevy S-10, and my daughter and I head for Oklahoma. As I live in Missouri this means driving about six to seven hours after a full day of full-time job and part-time job. But we moms can handle anything right? Everything's going well (I even managed to talk my way out of a speeding ticket!) and then in the Flint Hills of Kansas it starts raining. (It's a good thing we had the tarp on the furniture.) Still no problems until the driver's side windshield wiper breaks; so for the last three and a half hours of our drive we have rain and only one windshield wiper (a kind stranger at a rest stop took the passenger side one and put it on the driver's side).

We pull into Guthrie, OK where my son and his wife live about 4 a.m., unload the truck and go to sleep. My son wakes me up and shows me, at 9 a.m., 18 inches of snow. I really begin to wonder now if being a grandma is worth it! Then another conversation - this time with my daughter - the junior in high school. Her boyfriend and she approach me - she's expecting! Wow! Two grandbabies in less than a year - double payback time! And then I think of what my son and his wife have put me through - oh no!!

Fast forward now to May. Due to complications and being a week overdue they decide to put my daughter-in-law in the hospital and induce labor; the next day the tornadoes hit Oklahoma. (My son later told me that the F 5 veered from the hospital at the last possible second!) The next day my grandson is born and all is well. Whew! An end to the questions and middle of the night calls! But oh noooooooooo! Now it's questions about the baby. I finally got to see my grandbaby three weeks after he was born; and everything faded away but the wonder of this new life. Is there anything more precious than a new life? No way! And the best part - spoil him rotten and then go home!! I don't see him again until he is 5 months old; my how he has grown! My son and his family came to be at my daughter's baby shower. Of course I spoil him rotten and tell the kids - "It's in the Grandma's Handbook!"

Thanksgiving comes and the following Monday my granddaughter is born. I was with my daughter throughout her labor, as was one of my sisters and my mom, but due to complications she had to have a C-Section and she wanted my sister in the delivery room with her. (Her boyfriend was no longer her boyfriend - thank goodness!). My sweet little princess is finally born and my sister refused to let them take her to the nursery until I had seen her. I hear, "Colleen, come meet Maykala" and off I went.

Okay now it's Christmas; my son and his crew come in from Oklahoma just before so we can spend Andy's first Christmas with him. What a precious young man; it's amazing how much I had forgotten about the stages of a baby. Fantastic! Needless to say the Grandma's Handbook came in handy; especially when I fed him icing for a cake; when I fed him mashed potatoes; well you know the rest.

I get to see my sweet Maykala often - as they live in the same city; but it breaks my heart that I can't see Andy more often. But you can believe I spoil both of them rotten! I get to see Maykala grow and remember my own kids at the same ages and stages. First cereal; first jar food, first attempts at crawling; first steps of walking; it all just brings a lump to the throat and a tear to the eye. For all the joking and kidding around there is nothing sweeter than seeing a baby learning and growing.

And, now, Andy is going to have a little brother or sister! Oh boy! Another one to spoil rotten! Yahoo! I can hardly wait - spoil, cuddle and love and then send home!!

From the young grandma of two and 5/9ths, Colleen, a.k.a. Grammy, a.k.a. editor of HBCB Graphics - subscribe: Crech43@aol.com

News from Possum Waller
Featured regularly in the Flamingo Times Newsletter

I was looking out the window at the News, lost in thought about my upcoming age rollover - kind of like the truck speedometer, just keeps on going on. Beats the alternative I guess ... made me start thinking about what point in time you turn into your grandpa and start yelling "I remember when Cokes wuz a nickel." Uum ... maybe I have done that already ... sorry!

I think I first noticed the age thing when the clerks at the fast food places just gave me the "Senior Discount" without asking how old I am. I believe I was offended the first time, but the clerk was like 12 or so. I forgave her. It's funny I don’t feel much different. Mirror says I am though ... a bit more gray, a few more wrinkles and I swear I think I am shorter.

Oh well, time marches on I guess, I still like to think I am pretty cute for an old guy. Bad thing is I do remember when Cokes were a nickel ... I am becoming my grandpa ... whine whimper ....

Subscribe/read JW's archives online: http://www.topica.com/lists/flamingotimes/read

Grandma and Me

I am the audience and
She is the comedian
Doing a funny routine.

She is the sunlight
While I am still soaked
From the storm.

I am the kitten and
She is the fur
Keeping me warm with love.

She is the human
I am the fly
Bugging her constantly.

And I am the student
While she is the teacher
Who teaches me how to react
in the real world.

By Alexandra Leon, age 11, granddaughter of Virginia Marie Swift. "Grandma and Me" will be included a book called "The Silence Within" - soon to be released.

The following is certainly not what anyone would expect to find on a page like this. It is raw and may be disturbing to some. More important however, it came straight from the heart.

Grandpa's back!

By the end of my 25 years of drug addiction, I couldn't remember the names of my three grandchildren, let alone their birthdays.

What I was wearing at the end ("don't walk a mile in my shoes"). I had one pair in the last six years and went to work in an office looking like a ragamuffin, begging on the streets at lunchtime and before and after work, picking up cigarette butts from outside pubs and betting shops, or at intersections where the pickings were best.

My addiction for the last 15 years was to heroin, alcohol and medically prescribed opiates that I took to keep myself reasonably sane during my days without heroin. Then there were all the other painkillers and various pills I had to use just to get out of bed, to work or to the dealer. Heroin takes over the body, mind and soul of most who try it.

My daughter had all but given up on her daddy. Here she was, with three beautiful kids and their grandpa was always either sick or stoned. He was robbing from his kids, begging on the streets and spent a lot of time sick in bed. He had no car to visit them, and often couldn't afford bus fare. By the end, she thought the next call about Dad would be one to break the news that he had died in some toilet somewhere. She'd seen him in that state before, almost dead and comatose from too big a shot, or a shot that's contents turned out to be not what he'd paid $50 for.

During all those years of active addiction, I felt that if I didn't use, I would go mad or die. That's what heroin does to people. Addicts can't help themselves. Like any junkie, I used against my will, acting on the obsession/compulsion several times a day despite all the promises I made to myself and my children, despite the notes I wrote to myself each night. Asking a junkie not to use is like asking a stutterer not to stutter, or a nauseous person not to throw up. I made serious attempts to stop more than 100 times, but rarely could stand the physical and psychic pain of withdrawals more than a few days at most. Drowning my despair with many drinks a night helped me sleep a little better, but did nothing to cure my problems. My last self-detox on April 15, 1998, lasted nearly a year, because I wasn't a spring chicken anymore but a 45-year-old long-term opiate-dependent man. One year is a long time to convulse and sweat every night in bed, a long time to have your flesh crawling.

When I tried to take my own life, believing it was not humanly possible to get free of heroin addiction, I was sent by Lifeline (Sydney, Australia) to my first Narcotics Anonymous meeting. I have not had to have a drink or a drug since that day. Now my three grandchildren run to me across the room and call out, "Grandpa!" People are surprised to hear me talk about them. "You don't look old enough to be a grandfather," they say. I must look better now, having gone from six feet of skin and bone (I was 115 pounds for 14 years) to a comfortable - but still thin - 160 pounds. I'm no longer a yellow-gray colour, and I no longer have no option but to rid the world of my sorry presence.

By the end of my using, because of years of poverty, I didn't know how to use a video, a CD or even how to put a roll of film in a camera. I didn't know any of the movie stars of the '80s and '90s (I'm not sure I do now). I couldn't stand to listen to music. Most of my clothes were half falling to pieces. Today I operate four Websites and have 500 of my own recovery comix posted on the 'net. I pay rent and live a comfortable life by a beautiful Sydney beach. I have a car and a job, food in the fridge and a few hundred dollars in the bank. My clothes and shoes are no longer falling to bits. I don't collect cigarettes from gutters and I eat three square meals a day. And I see my grandkids often and we have lots of fun. Sometimes I baby-sit to give my daughter and her husband some time out. They love me doing it, but I wish they'd ask me more often!

I'm mostly happy most of the time now. Let's say about 90 percent happy, 90 percent of the time. How many 48-year-old guys could truthfully say that? I have lots of gratitude, but none more deep than that I treasure for the restoration of my children and grandchildren. I am the most fortunate man I know. I am the happiest man you know. Thank you for my life, Lifeline and NA!

Abundance and gratitude,
narcosis
http://go.to/narcosis

Games for When We are Older

Sag, you're it
Pin the toupee on the bald guy
20 questions shouted into your good ear
Kick the bucket
Red Rover, Red Rover, the nurse says bend over
Doc Goose
Simon says something incoherent
Hide and go pee
Spin the bottle of Mylanta
Musical recliners

According to Jeff Foxworthy, you're not a kid anymore when ...

You can live without sex but not without your glasses.
You quit trying to hold in your stomach, no matter who walks into the room.
You enjoy watching the news.
The phone rings and you hope its not for you.
The only reason you're still awake at 4 a.m. is indigestion.
People ask what color your hair used to be.
You're proud of your lawnmower.
Your best friend is dating someone half their age and isn't breaking any laws.
You start singing along with the elevator music.
You really do want a new washing machine for your birthday.
Your car has four doors.
You routinely check the oil in your car.
You've owned clothes so long that they've come back into style - twice.
You no longer think of speed limits as a challenge.
You consider coffee one of the most important things in life.
8 a.m. is your idea of "sleeping in".
You don't remember when you got that mole ... or the one next to it.
You write thank you notes without being told.
Neighbors borrow your tools.
You answer a question with "Because I said so!"
Others ask for your recipes.
You start Christmas shopping in August.
You paint walls for a reason other than getting your deposit back.
You don't like to drive after dark.
You say the words "Turn that music down!"
You wear black socks with sandals.
You point out what buildings used to be where.
You know all the warning signs of a heart attack.
You rake the yard without being told to.
You can't remember the last time you lay on the floor to watch television.
The service station attendant lets you pump your gas before paying.

Women will never be equal to men until they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer gut, and still think they are beautiful.


Why didn't somebody think of this sooner!?! Baby Mops

"If there were no schools to take children away from home part of the time, the insane asylum would be filled with mothers." - Edgar Watson Howe

Grandma Shoes

When I was very little,
All the Grandmas that I knew,
All walked around this world,
In ugly grandma shoes.

You know the ones I speak of,
Those black clunky heeled kind,
They just looked so very awful,
That it weighed upon my mind.

For I knew, when I grew old,
I'd have to wear those shoes,
I'd think of that, from time to time,
It seemed like such bad news.

I never was a rebel,
I wore saddle shoes to school,
And next came ballerinas,
Then the sandals, pretty cool.

And then came spikes with pointed toes,
Then platforms, very tall,
As each new fashion came along,
I wore them, one and all.

But always, in the distance,
Looming in my future, there,
Was that awful pair of ugly shoes,
The kind that grandmas wear.

I eventually got married,
And then I became a Mom.
Our kids grew up and left,
And when their children came along ...

I knew I was a grandma,
And the time was drawing near,
When those clunky, black, old lace up shoes
Was what I'd have to wear.

How would I do my gardening
Or take my morning hike?
I couldn't even think about
How I would ride my bike!

But fashions kept evolving,
And one day I realized
That the shape of things to come,
Was changing, right before my eyes.

And now, when I go shopping,
What I see fills me with glee.
For, in my jeans and Reeboks
I'm as comfy as can be.

And I look at all these teenage girls
And there, upon their feet
Are clunky, black, old Grandma shoes,
And they really think they're neat.

A Very Weird Thing has Happened

A strange old lady has moved into my house. I have no idea who she is, where she came from, or how she got in. I certainly did not invite her. All I know is that one day she wasn't there and the next day she was.

She is a very clever old lady. She manages to keep out of sight for the most part but, whenever I pass a mirror, I catch a glimpse of her. And whenever I look in the mirror directly, to check my appearance, there she is, hogging the whole thing and completely obliterating my gorgeous face and body.

This is very rude.

I have tried screaming at her to stop it but she just screams back, grimacing horribly.

She is really quite frightening! If she insists on hanging around, the least she could do is offer to pay a little rent. But, no!

Every once in a while I do find a dollar bill stuck into a coat pocket, or some loose change under a sofa cushion but, that is not nearly enough. In fact, I don't want to jump to conclusions but, I think she is stealing money from me. I go to the ATM and withdraw one hundred dollars and a few days later it is all gone. I certainly don't spend money that fast so I can only conclude that the old lady is pilfering from me. You would think she would use some of that money to buy some wrinkle cream.

Money isn't the only thing I think she is taking. Food seems to disappear at an alarming rate too. Especially the good stuff like ice cream, cookies and candy. I just can't seem to keep that stuff in the house any more. She must really have a sweet tooth but, she better watch it - she is really packing on the pounds! I think she realizes that and to make herself feel better she is tampering with my scale to make me think that I am putting on weight too.

For an old lady, she really is quite childish though. She likes to play these really nasty games like going into my closets when I'm not home and altering my clothes so that they don't fit. Or messing with my files and papers so that I can't find them. This is particularly annoying since I am an extremely neat and organized person. She fiddles with my VCR to make it not record what I have carefully and correctly programmed it to record.

She has found imaginative other ways to annoy me. She gets to my mail, newspapers, and magazines before I do and somehow blurs the print so badly that I can't see it. And she has done something really sinister to the volume controls on my TV, radio, and telephone so that all I hear are mumbles and whispers. She has done other things like make my stairs steeper, my vacuum cleaner heavier, and all my knobs and faucets hard to turn. She even made my bed higher so that getting into and out of it is a real challenge.

Further more, she gets to my groceries before I get them put away and applies super glue to the lids making it almost impossible for me to open them.

Is this any way to repay my hospitality? I don't even get any respite at night - more than once her snoring has awakened me. It is very unattractive! And as if that weren't bad enough, she is no longer confining her tactics to the house.

She has found a way to sneak into my car and follow me everywhere I go. She has completely taken the fun out of shopping for clothes. When I try something on, she tries on the same exact outfit and stands in front of the dressing room mirror and monopolizes it. She looks totally ridiculous in the outfit, plus she keeps me from seeing how great it looks on me.

Just when I thought she couldn't get any meaner, she proved me wrong. She came with me to get my drivers license picture taken and just as the camera shutter clicked, she jumped right in front of me! Who is going to believe that the picture of that old lady is me? She is walking on very thin ice now and if she keeps this up, I will have her put away!

But then, on second thought, maybe I shouldn't be too hasty, think I will check with the IRS and see if I can claim her as a dependent. Uh oh, I wonder if she has beat me to that first because she is always on my computer too.
author unknown

My face in the mirror isn't wrinkled or drawn,
My house isn't dirty, the cobwebs are gone,
My garden looks lovely and so does my lawn,
I think I might never put my glasses back on.

"Pick your grandparents well." - Julia Child's secret to the good life as heard on A & E's "Biography." Grandpa's California real estate investments prospered, making opportunities available to  young Julia at a time when most Americans were struggling. "The chef who made it all possible for those on TV today," is still going strong in her 80s. As an inspirational side note (especially to me), she was 50 before hitting it big, having spent seven years writing and rewriting her first cookbook. Also known for her love of butter, I'll always be a fan. I've lost a favorite quote, something about beef and wine appraised as essentials - right on Julia! "Appetite for Life" biography (A & E's sites were down when I checked, try www.biography.com)

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple

With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals and say we've no money for butter.
And I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go.
Or only bread and a pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We will have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
Jenny Joseph

"And to my hateful cousin, Dan, who argued with me over everything, hated my guts and thought I'd never mention him in my will, well, you were wrong. Hi, Dan!"

I loved you enough ...

Someday when my children are old enough to understand the logic that motivates a parent, I will tell them:

I loved you enough ... to ask where you were going, with whom, and what time you would be home.

I loved you enough ... to insist that you save your money and buy a bike for yourself even though we could afford to buy one for you.

I loved you enough ... to be silent and let you discover that your new best friend was a creep.

I loved you enough ... to make you go pay for the bubble gum you had taken and tell the clerk, "I stole this yesterday and want to pay for it."

I loved you enough ... to stand over you for two hours while you cleaned your room, a job that should have taken 15 minutes.

I loved you enough ... to let you see anger, disappointment and tears in my eyes. Children must learn that their parents aren't perfect.

I loved you enough ... to let you assume the responsibility for your actions when the penalties were so harsh they almost broke my heart.

But most of all, I loved you enough ... to say no when I knew you would hate me for it. Those were the most difficult battles of all. I'm glad I won them, because in the end you won, too. And someday when your children are old enough to understand the logic that motivates parents, you will ask them ...

Was your Mom mean?

We had the meanest mother in the whole world! While other kids ate candy for breakfast, we had to have cereal, eggs, and toast.

When others had a Pepsi and a Twinkie for lunch, we had to eat sandwiches.

And you can guess our mother fixed us a dinner that was different from what other kids had, too.

Mother insisted on knowing where we were at all times. You'd think we were convicts in a prison.

She had to know who our friends were, and what we were doing with them.

She insisted that if we said we would be gone for an hour, we would be gone for an hour or less.

We were ashamed to admit it, but she had the nerve to break the Child Labor Laws by making us work. We had to wash the dishes, make the beds, learn to cook, vacuum the floor, do laundry, empty the trash and all sorts of cruel jobs. I think she would lie awake at night thinking of more things for us to do.

She always insisted on us telling the truth the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. By the time we were teenagers, she could read our minds. Then, life was really tough!

Mother wouldn't let our friends just honk the horn when they drove up. They had to come up to the door so she could meet them.

While everyone else could date when they were 12 or 13, we had to wait.

Because of our mother we missed out on lots of things other kids experienced. None of us have ever been caught vandalizing other's property or ever arrested for any crime. It was all her fault.

Now that we have left home, we are all educated, honest adults. We are doing our best to be mean parents just like Mom was. I think that is what's wrong with the world today. It just doesn't have enough mean moms.

From One Woman to Another ...

Most of you have read the scare-mail about the person whose kidneys were stolen while he was passed out - well, read on. While that was an "urban legend," this one is not. It's happening every day.

My thighs were stolen from me during the night of August 3rd a few years ago. It was just that quick. I went to sleep in my body and woke up with someone else's thighs. The new ones had the texture of cooked oatmeal.

Who would have done such a cruel thing to legs that had been wholly, if imperfectly, mine for years. Whose thighs were these? What happened to mine? I spent the entire summer looking for them. I searched, in vain, at pools and beaches, anywhere I might find female limbs exposed. I became obsessed. I had nightmares filled with cellulite and flesh that turns to bumps in the night. Finally, hurt and angry, I resigned myself to living out my life in jeans and Sheer Energy pantyhose.

Then, just when my guard was down, the thieves struck again. My rear end was next. I knew it was the same gang because they took pains to match my new rear end (although badly attached at least three inches lower than the original) to the thighs they had stuck me with earlier. Now my rear complimented my legs, lump for lump. Frantic, I prayed that long skirts would stay in fashion.

It was two years ago when I realized my arms had been switched. One morning while fixing my hair, I watched, horrified but fascinated, as the flesh of my upper arms swung to and fro with the motion of the hairbrush. This was really getting scary. My body was being replaced, cleverly and fiendishly, one section at a time.

Age? Age had nothing to do with it. Age was supposed to creep up, unnoticed and intangible, something like maturity. No! I was being attacked, repeatedly and without warning. During one spring, my attention was riveted to upper arms ... female arms. I studied them from every angle, being careful not to raise mine in public or flatten them too tightly against my body. In private, I held them straight out and did endless circles that would have tightened my real arms but did nothing for these new "Silly-Putty" caricatures. In the end, in deepening despair, I gave up my T-shirts.

What could they do to me next? My eyes began to remind people that they needed a new pair of Hush Puppies. My poor neck disappeared faster than the Thanksgiving turkey it now reminded me of.

That's why I've decided to tell my story; I can't take on the medical profession by myself. Women of America, wake up and smell the coffee! That isn't really "plastic" those surgeons are using. You know where they're getting those replacement parts, don't you?

The next time you suspect someone has had a face "lifted," look again! Was it lifted from you? Check out those tummy tucks and buttocks raisings. Look familiar? Are those your eyelids on that movie star?

I think I finally may have found my thighs ... and I hope Cindy Crawford paid a really good price for them! This is not a hoax! This is happening to women in every town every night. Warn all your friends!!
author unknown

Dedicated to Mae Spies
9/19/08 - 11/5/99

I remember the days when you came over to visit us, when I was very young. Trying to get us to click our tongues, and you would give us a gift. For even trying to make that noise.

I remember spending the night with you at your house. And every time we did. You always made raisin bread for us.

I remember the walks around the lake in Waldwick, NJ. Feeding the ducks with you. And me getting bitten by one nasty little duck.

I remember telling you that I was pregnant with Kaitlynn. And how supportive you were. You stood by my side when I had to tell Grandpa.

I will always remember our luncheon dates at Friendly’s.

I will remember walking through the nature park with Kaitlynn. When she was a baby.

I will always remember you beating the pants off of Mom when it came to word games.

I will always remember the three little squeezes, while holding hands, saying "I love you." And I also do that with my children to this day.

I will never forget your laugh, sense of humor, and the love that you shared with the family.

I know that you loved your children very much. You waited till your son came down from RI, before saying your last good-bye. And trying so hard to talk, to tell us how much you love us.

I sit here now, 5:24 in the morning typing this letter for you. For you finally met peace at 4:10 this morning. I told you that I would take care of you. I have spent the past 24 hours with you, doing so. You have always amazed me. Even when you couldn't talk. You still gave us those three little squeezes, every now and then. You always responded to us with a "uh huh" when we told you what we were going to do for you.  The last hour and a half you finally started to calm down and rest. Even at your death, you showed us how strong you were. You stopped breathing, yet lived for another 10 minutes.

You were a very loved person. Every person that you have came in contact with, adored you. You have told me once that I am just like you. I hope so. I hope that I have the same caring and loving soul as you.

-2-

You told me once, that you admired the fact that I keep my promises.

I promise to you, that I will take care of Mom for you.

I promise to you, that you will be at my wedding, in spirit and memory.
(I'm glad that you did, at least, get to see me in my wedding gown)

I promise to you that I will leave the daycare job, that refused to keep my son for the day of your death. Because I wasn't there.

I promise to you that I will take care of my children.

I promise to you that you will live as long as I do. For your love will live on forever. It lives within your children.  It lives within your Grandchildren. And it will live within Kaitlynn. Tommy will be four at the end of the month. He will barely remember you.  However, he will know you very well through Kaitlynn. For she has the same kind of love that you had.

I love you Grandmother. Forever.

Love your Granddaughter,
Kathleen Mae

A Grandmother's Creed

As I hold you in my arms for the first time,
I look down at your innocent face and tell you,
"I am your Grandma" and
I tell you what good friends we'll become.

I promise you that my heart will always be a safe haven
where my love for you will know no obstacles.

I will always have faith in you and believe in you.
My home will always be your home.

You are my second chance, sweet innocent baby.
My second chance to bake cookies, and watch the
sparkling anticipation in your eyes.
My second chance to sit and rock a baby to sleep in
my arms, experiencing the tiny heart beating next to mine
as you rest upon my chest.

My second chance to experience the wonder
of a child discovering he can walk and blow
dandelions into the sky. A second chance to view
the world through the innocence of a child's heart.
And this time, there will be no rushing to keep
schedules and clean the house.

You have the advantage of my years and having gained
the wisdom of knowing what's really important in life.

You have the advantage that I know my place in the world
and that a few cobwebs don't really matter.
As the poem goes, you have the advantage that
I now know that babies don't keep.

I promise to be a child with you when you need me to be
and a source of strength when that's what you need from me.

I promise that you will hear more "yes" more often than "no" from me, but I will always honor and respect the place of your mother and father. I will never try to outshine them or diminish their role in your life. For as much as I love you, they love you more.

We'll grow old together ... I'll just get there a little sooner.
Someday, when I'm gone, you'll look back upon all the times we shared and you'll smile. The name Grandmother will always hold a special place in your heart,
just as you have always held one in mine.
Edited version, author unknown

Benefits of Getting Older

In a hostage situation you are likely to be released first.
It's harder and harder for sexual harassment charges to stick.
Kidnappers are not very interested in you.
No one expects you to run into a burning building.
People no longer view you as a hypochondriac.
There's nothing left to learn the hard way.
Things you buy now won't wear out.
You can eat dinner at 4 p.m.
You can live without sex but not without glasses.
You enjoy hearing about other people's operations.
You got cable for the weather channel.
You have a party and the neighbors don't even realize it.
You can sing along with the elevator music.
When you talk about "good grass" and you're referring to someone's lawn.
Your eyes won't get much worse.
Your investment in health insurance is finally beginning to pay off.
Your joints are more accurate than the National Weather Service.
Your secrets are safe with your friends because they can't remember them either.
Your supply of brain cells is finally down to a manageable size.

Wrinkled was not one of the things I wanted to be when I grew up.

Got a letter from Grandma the other day. She writes: The other day I went to a local Christian bookstore and saw a "Honk if you love Jesus" bumper sticker. I was feeling pretty sassy that day because I'd just come from a thrilling choir performance, followed by a thunderous prayer meeting, so I bought the sticker and put it on my bumper.

Boy, I'm glad I did! What an uplifting experience followed! I was stopped at a red light at a busy intersection, just lost in thought about the Lord and how good He is... and I didn't notice that the light had changed. It's a good thing someone else loves Jesus because if he hadn't honked, I'd never have noticed. I found that lots of people love Jesus! While I was sitting there, the guy behind started honking like crazy, and then he leaned out of his window and screamed, "For the love of God! Go! Go! Jesus Christ, go!" What an exuberant cheerleader he was for Jesus!

Everyone started honking! I just leaned out of my window and started waving and smiling at all those loving people. I even honked my horn a few times to share in the love. There must have been a man from Florida back there ... I heard him yelling something about a "sunny beach." I saw another guy waving in a funny way with only his middle finger stuck up in the air. I asked my teenage grandson in the back seat what that meant, and he said that it was probably a Hawaiian good luck sign or something. Well, I've never met anyone from Hawaii, so I leaned out the window and gave him the good luck sign back.

My grandson burst out laughing ... he was enjoying this religious experience, too. A couple of the people were so caught up in the joy of the moment that they got out of their cars and started walking toward me. I bet they wanted to pray or ask what church I attended, but this is when I noticed the light had changed. So, I waved to all my sisters and brothers, grinning, and drove on through the intersection.

I noticed I was the only car that got through the intersection before the light changed again. I felt kind of sad that I had to leave them after all the love we'd shared, so I slowed the car down, leaned out of the window and gave them all the Hawaiian good luck sign as I drove away.

Praise the Lord for such wonderful folks!

Love,
Grandma

Close your eyes and go back in time ... before the Internet or the Mac, semi automatics and crack ... before SEGA or Super Nintendo ... Way back ...

I'm talkin' bout hide and go seek at dusk. Sittin' on the porch, hot bread and butter. The Good Humor man, Red Light, Green Light, Chocolate milk, lunch tickets, penny candy in a brown paper bag. Playin' pinball in the corner store. Hopscotch, butterscotch, doubledutch, Jacks, kickball, dodgeball. Mother May I?, Red Rover and Roly Poly, Hula Hoops and sunflower seeds, Jolly Ranchers, banana splits, wax lips and mustaches. Hey, what about Fizzies? Running through the sprinkler. The smell of the sun and lickin' salty lips ...

Watchin' Saturday morning cartoons, Fat Albert, Road Runner, He-Man, The Three Stooges, and Bugs.

Or back further, listening to Superman on the radio, catchin' lightening bugs in a jar, playing with a sling shot. When around the corner seemed far away, and going downtown seemed like going somewhere. Climbing trees, an ice cream cone on a warm summer night; chocolate or vanilla or strawberry or maybe butter pecan. A cherry coke from the fountain at the corner drug store.

A million mosquito bites and sticky fingers, Cops and Robbers, Cowboys and Indians, sittin' on the curb, jumpin' down the steps, jumpin' on the bed, pillow fights, runnin' till you were out of breath, laughing so hard that your stomach hurt. Being tired from playin'... Remember that? Ain't finished just yet ...

Eating Kool-aid powder with sugar. There were two types of sneakers for girls and boys (Keds & PF Flyers) and the only time you wore them at school was for gym. And the girls had those ugly uniforms. When it took five minutes for the TV to warm up, if you even had one. When nearly everyone's mom was at home when the kids got there. Nobody owned a purebred dog.

A quarter was a decent allowance, and another quarter a miracle. When milk went up one cent, everyone talked about it for weeks.

Decisions were made by going "eeny-meeny-miney-mo." Mistakes were corrected by simply exclaiming, "do over." "Race issue" meant arguing about who ran the fastest. Money issues were handled by whoever was the banker in Monopoly. Catching fireflies could happily occupy an entire evening. It wasn't odd to have two or three 'best' friends. Being old referred to anyone over 20. The worst thing you could catch from the opposite sex was cooties. It was magic when dad would 'remove' his thumb.

It was unbelievable that dodgeball wasn't an Olympic event. Having a weapon in school meant being caught with a slingshot. Nobody was prettier than Mom. Scrapes and bruises were kissed and made better. It was a big deal to finally be tall enough the ride the big people's rides at the amusement park. Getting a foot of snow was a dream come true. Abilities were discovered because of a 'double-dog-dare'. Cartoons weren't 30-minute ads for action figures. No shopping trip was complete unless a new toy was brought home. 'Oly, oly ox in free' made perfect sense. Spinning around, getting dizzy and falling down was cause for giggles. The worst embarrassment was being picked last for a team. War was a card game. Water balloons were the ultimate weapon. Baseball cards in the spokes transformed any bike into a motorcycle. Taking drugs meant orange-flavored chewable aspirin. Ice cream was considered a basic food group. Older siblings were the worst tormentors but also the fiercest protectors.

Being sent to the principal's office was nothing compared to the fate that awaited a misbehaving student at home. Basically, we were in fear for our lives, but it wasn't because of drive-by shootings, drugs, gangs, etc. Our parents and grandparents were a much bigger threat ... and some of us are still afraid of em!!!

Sittin' on the porch, Simon Says, Kick the Can, lunch boxes with a thermos ... chocolate milk, going home for lunch, penny candy from the store, hopscotch, butterscotch, skates with keys, Jacks, Hula Hoops and sunflower seeds, Whist and Old Maid and Crazy Eights, Mary Janes, saddle shoes and Coke bottles with the names of cities on the bottom, running through the sprinkler, circle pins, bobby pins, Mickey Mouse Club, Rocky & Bullwinkle, Fran & Ollie, Spin & Marty ... all in black & white.

Making forts, backyard shows, lemonade stands, getting "company," ribbon candy, angel hair on the Christmas tree, Jackie Gleason, white gloves, walking to church, walking to the movie theater, being tickled to death. Not steppin' on a crack or you'd break your mother's back ... paper chains at Christmas, silhouettes of Lincoln and Washington ... the smell of paste in school and Evening in Paris.

What about the girl that had the big bubbly handwriting,who dotted her "i"s with hearts?? The Stroll, popcorn balls, and sock hops.

You'd reach into a muddy gutter for a penny. Girls neither dated nor kissed until late high school, if then. Mom wore nylons that came in two pieces. All male teachers wore neckties and female teachers had their hair done, everyday and wore high heels.

You got your windshield cleaned, oil checked, and gas pumped, without asking, all for free, every time. And, you didn't pay for air. And, you got trading stamps to boot! Laundry detergent had free glasses, dishes or towels hidden inside the box.

Any parent could discipline any kid, or feed him or use him to carry groceries, and nobody, not even the kid, thought a thing of it. It was considered a great privilege to be taken out to dinner at a real restaurant with your parents. They threatened to keep kids back a grade if they failed ... and did! The worst thing you could do at school was smoke in the bathrooms, flunk a test or chew gum. The prom was in the auditorium and we danced to an orchestra, and all the girls wore pastel gowns and the boys wore suits for the first time and we stayed out all night.

A '57 Chevy was everyone's dream car ... to cruise, peel out, lay rubber or watch submarine races, and people went steady and girls wore a class ring with an inch of wrapped dental floss or yarn coated with pastel frost nail polish so it would fit her finger.

And no one ever asked where the car keys were 'cause they were always in the car, in the ignition, and the doors were never locked. And you got in big trouble if you accidentally locked the doors at home, since no one ever had a key. Remember lying on your back on the grass with your friends and saying, "That cloud looks like a ..."

Playing baseball with no adults to help kids with the rules of the game. Back then, baseball was not a psychological group learning experience - it was a game.

Remember when stuff from the store came without safety caps and hermetic seals 'cause no one had yet tried to poison a perfect stranger. With all our progress ... don't you just wish ... just once ... you could slip back in time and savor the slower pace ... and share it with the children of the '80s and '90s?

Send this on to someone who can still remember Nancy Drew, The Hardy Boys, Laurel & Hardy, Howdy Doody and The Peanut Gallery, The Lone Ranger, The Shadow Knows,Nellie Belle, Roy and Dale, Trigger and Buttermilk ... as well as the sound of a reel mower on Saturday morning, and summers filled with bike rides, playing in cowboy land, bowling and visits to the pool ... and eating Kool-aid powder with sugar.

Didn't that feel good, just to go back and say, Yeah, I remember that!
~~~~
... a few personal remembrances from a high school friend. We're fast approaching the 30-year reunion - AAAck!

The dime store at 63rd, nickel Cokes at the soda fountain at Katz' drugstore, cherry phosphates, walking to kindergarten ... in a foot of snow, (she lived close, my trek was only from the parking lot), golashes, leggings, crossing Wornall Road by myself for the first time. My dad running the Christmas tree lot across the street at the "Y," making potholders-then selling them door to door, Nic-o-lips (sp?) - those wax bottles with colored sugar water, chum gum. Getting the very first Barbie at age 10, riding my bike for miles, without a helmet or a water bottle, hearing my mom yell for me to come home for dinner - from two blocks away!!, not wearing a shirt or shoes in the summer until I was 7 years old, sitting on my front steps watching all the big teenagers go to Southwest, taking walks around the Southwest grounds with my favorite aunt and collecting "treasures" - pencils, pennies, broken pens, keys, etc., making "dolls" from hollyhocks and Valomilks! For those who don't know about Valomilks, they are similar to a peanut butter butter cup, with a vanilla/marshmallow filling instead. I remember using almost all my tickets for those incomparable treats at a back-yard carnival the neighborhood kids put together. The candy company was started by my neighbor's grandfather. Thinking I'd better check my facts, did a search - what a trip! Found five pages of listings, ranging from business associations [including retail outlets] to personal page musings and laudations. It's rather amazing to learn I grew up rubbing shoulders with a legend - www.valomilk.com - that particular gooey buzz is requisite to accomplishing the complete life experience.

Listening to the Old Songs

Driving down the road in the rain,
Listening to the old songs.

Having a Johnny Cash,
I'm in a Sunday morning coming down day.

Just listening to the old songs.
I've always been afraid to drive in the rain.
Oh, many a tear has to fall, but its all in the game.

Just like old man river, I'm tired of living but 'fraid of dying.
You gotta cry a little, die a little. That's
the story of, that's the glory of love.

I'm listening to the old songs.
Take my hand, I can't help falling in love with you.
Driving down the road, heading for the sea.
Singing along with Paul Anka, Johnny Ray, Nat King Cole, Patti Page.

Listening to the rain, and the old songs.
Now and then, there's a fool such as I am.
Who sang that anyway?
I've almost forgotten my fear of the rain, the slickness of the roads.
Somebody loves me, I wonder who, I wonder who it could be.

I'm driving down the road with the daydream
believer and the homecoming queen.
I feel the earth move under my feet.
Thumping and pounding my way back home.
Back home to the sea.

Just listening to the old songs.

Author unknown, from Winter Wolf Weekly, D34CAV@aol.com

"A child is a person who is going to carry on what you have started. He is going to sit where you are sitting and when you are gone, attend to those things which you think are important. You may adopt all the policies you please, but how they are carried out depends on him. He will assume control of your cities, states and nations. He is going to move in and take over your churches, schools, universities, and corporations. Your books are going to be judged, accepted or condemned by him. The fate of humanity is in his hands. So it might be well to pay him some attention." - Abraham Lincoln

Dear Lord ...

So far today, I am doing all right. I have not gossiped, lost my temper, been greedy, grumpy, nasty, selfish, or self indulgent. I have not whined, bitched, cursed, or eaten any chocolate. I have not charged on my credit card. However, I am going to get out of bed in a few minutes, and I will need a lot more help after that.

Amen

The joy of motherhood is what a woman experiences when the kids are in bed.

Baby T: My name is No No but Grandma calls me Precious

Whaddya know, an award especially for this page. Have to admit, it borders on nepotism considering that Rexanne is one of my best buds on the 'net. We are always cheering - more like egging - each other on to something new. Sharpening an old saw here ... you may not be able to pick your relatives but you can pick friends who act like family.

Rexanne.com
"Parenting, Holidays, Humor, Family, Fun!"

Rexanne's Web Review
"Web Sites and Insights"

Sept. 5, 2000 RWR issue
Lots of G-parent info

2001 Mother's Day Issue
Includes highly recommended Mom pages http://www.momscape.com/articles/mothermatters.htm, http://www.geocities.com/Heartland/Country/5425/Mothers.html

How I Raised My Kids

Someone once asked, "Why are parents so impatient for a child to take his first steps and speak his first words, when the parents will spend the next 17 years telling the kid to shut up and sit down?"

I disagree. I see a walking child as one who can bring me my slippers from the other side of the room, and a talking child as one whom I can intelligently warn about the dangers of life. For example:

Don't pet that dog; it will eat your face off.

Don't go into the street; a car will run you over and you'll end up like a banana pancake. That includes your new shoes.

Don't forget to wash your hands after playing in  the sand. There are tiny eggs under your fingernails  that get into your mouth and hatch in your belly, and then at night worms crawl out of your bottom. (I especially like this one because after I say it, I get a 10-minute break as they discuss it quietly among themselves.)

Don't crawl into the refrigerator. There is green stuff on the leftovers that is growing faster than you are. By morning it will break out of the plastic containers and beat you up.

Don't touch the knives. You'll cut off your fingers and then you can say goodbye to things like ripping off your diaper, locking yourself in the bathroom and poking the dessert just before the company comes.

Don't stand around with your fingers in your nose. Other kids will think you're creepy and throw sand at you. Plus, their parents will wonder where you learned it.

Don't unbuckle your seat belt. You might get put in prison. You'll have to celebrate your birthday with a bunch of murderers and perverts.

Don't bite on that electrical cord. There's fire inside that will blow up your teeth. You'll never be able to chew paper, old gum from the sidewalk or dog kibble again.

Don't try to climb over the balcony railing. You'll flip over the top and die, then go to a place where a bunch of other bullheaded kids will hit you on the head with a plastic rake when God's not looking.

Don't open the dishwasher and jump up and down on the door. Mommy will have to call a repairman, then Daddy will die.

Don't put your tongue on that. A dog went pee-pee there.

Don't eat those mushrooms in the grass. Remember the king in the Babar book; he did that, turned green and died. You hate green.

Don't drink anything in the garage. It's all poison and we'll have to take you to the hospital and they'll put tubes in your stomach and pump everything out. It will hurt when the Barbie head comes back up.

Don't lick the pigeons. It's bad enough we're feeding them moldy bread.

Don't play in the fireplace. A reindeer went pee-pee in there.

Don't hit Mommy's old computer with that toy hammer. If it breaks, Daddy will have to buy a new one. On second thought, here's a real hammer.

Don't try to kiss the goat. It eats garbage and will go after whatever that thing is in your mouth.

Don't play in the toilet. Remember, the toilet is dirty even though it looks clean, and your cup is clean even though it looks dirty.

Don't keep on wearing those old shoes. They're too small and your feet will shrivel up like the potatoes in the vegetable drawer and you won't be able to run away from me.

After running those by Bubba, he threw in a bit of Granny M.'s wisdom ...

"Don't eat the fruit and vegetables from the grocery store 'till you wash 'em good, you don't how many (or what kind of) people touched 'em."

"Don't step in the spit on the sidewalk."

Another Granny M.ism: "Look, just look, at those home-wreckers on my stories."

That brought to mind my Mrs. Stingley's utter dismay whenever a bra or girdle commercial appeared on TV. She'd never believe (or tolerate) today's displays.

A grannyism/stretcherism found in The Dollar Stretcher newsletter http://www.stretcher.com -  "Grandmother Mary, the ultimate queen of dollar stretchers, used this all the time: A penny saved is a penny you can squander somewhere else!"

Then there was Granny V. She never failed to arrive for a visit without a six-pack of Cokes (6 oz. bottles), "You may have one, not two, but one." That was one for Bubba, one for his brother and four for her at the one-a-day rate, in her glass, with cubed ice that came from the ice house. ( Mom and Dad stuck to tea and coffee.)

Her opinions were limited to, "That's right" or "That's wrong" and always accompanied by a story about somebody.

Granny V's grandpa was Meribeau Buonaparte Lamar, listed at Texas Chief Executives as the second president of the Republic of Texas. As president, Lamar was largely responsible for the selection of Austin, then named Waterloo, as the permanent site for the capital of Texas. More important (in my opinion): from the Handbook of Texas Online "Lamar's proposal that the Congress establish a system of education^qv endowed by public lands^qv resulted in the act of January 26, 1839, which set aside land for public schools and two universities. Although it was decades before the school system was established, Lamar's advocacy of the program earned for him the nickname 'Father of Texas Education.' A dictum in one of his messages to Congress, 'Cultivated mind is the guardian genius of democracy,' became the motto of the University of Texas." Numerous Texas schools are named for him as were Lamar County, the town of Lamar in Aransas County and Lamar Boulevard in Austin. From Houston by Night Biography: "In 1836 the Texas Centennial Commission placed statues of him in the Hall of State in Dallas and in the cemetery at Richmond. The commission also marked the site of his home near Richmond and the place of his residence as president in Austin, and built a miniature replica of his home on the square at Paris. At his death the Telegraph and Texas Register eulogized him as a 'worthy man.'"

Mirabeau Buonaparte Lamar was born in Georgia, lived in Alabama and migrated to Texas in 1835 with James Fannin. Lamar enlisted in the Texas Army as a private after the fall of the Alamo in March, 1836. He was promoted to Colonel in April for his bravery and quick thinking in the rescue of Secretary of War Thomas Rusk from the advancing Mexican Army. He was placed in command of the cavalry at the crucial Battle of San Jacinto on April 21st. Ten days after this victory over General Santa Anna, Lamar was appointed Secretary of War in the Cabinet of David Burnet. By June of 1836 Lamar was a Major General and the Commander in Chief of the Texas Army. In less than one hundred days, the 38-year-old Lamar had risen from private to C-in-C.

Also noteworthy: Mirabeau Lamar State Historical Marker, located at intersection of Broadway and 11th Street, Columbus, Ga. "Near this point Mirabeau Lamar established a newspaper office in May 1828. As editor and publisher, he presented, on May 29, 1828, the first issue of The Columbus Enquirer."

Visiting Grandma

A grandmother is giving directions to her grown grandson, who is coming to visit with his wife:

"You come to the front door of the apartment complex. I am in apartment 14T. There is a big panel at the door. With your elbow, push button 14T. I will buzz you in. Come inside, the elevator is on the right. Get in, and with your elbow hit 14. When you get out I am on the left. With your elbow, hit my doorbell."

"Grandma, that sounds easy, but why am I hitting all these buttons with my elbow?"

"You're coming empty handed?"

Dear Juliet and Mabel: My wife and I have eight wonderful grandkids. Life has been good to us. The problem is the friction between my wife and I every time one of them has a birthday. She goes completely nuts trying to make sure we don't spend more on one than on the last one's present. I mean, one of our grandkids is 20 and one of them is 4. So obviously, this silliness has been going on for some years now. I say buy the four year old the latest Barbie thing, and give the older kid money. She says that's not fair. I say it makes good sense. The boy who is now 20 used to get crayons and books when he was little. Now we can put $50. in a card, and he can use it for college books. But I can't see making everything come out even by spending $50. on the four year old. I think it all comes out even in the end. What do you think? Thanks, Grandpa

Dear Grandpa: We have six G-kids and the age split is almost the same as yours. I try to keep what I give the kids pretty even too but not because of the kids ... because of the mothers! Do I agree with you? Yup, I do. Who made this mess? We did. Grams of the world unite! She likes making herself nuts. Trust me on this, it is a girl thing. Your job here is to nod a lot and offer support for whatever she is doing, 'cause she is going to do it anyway. Might as well enjoy it!

What I have started doing is buying a small fun thing for the little ones and giving the balance as a gift certificate, at a store where the mom can get sneakers or such. For the older kids I used to drive myself nuts. I wanted to get them something special, something they would treasure. Guess what? They wanted pants from The Gap!

Funny thing is my daughter and I were talking about just this, last night. She and our youngest granddaughter are here for a visit. She was saying that she wanted her daughter to remember all of the things that we do for her. I told her that I didn't remember one thing my grandmother had ever bought for me ... but I remember being rocked in her lap, when I got hurt. I remember helping her in the kitchen and I remember being loved. I don't think they sell that at The Gap! Mabel

PS: Sure would like to hear from you folks! Just click and send us a note! JulietandMabel@aol.com from SCC Newsletter. Sample copy request: JellyPubCo@aol.com

Women

They smile when they want to scream. They sing when they want to cry.
They cry when they are happy and laugh when they are nervous.
They fight for what they believe in.
They stand up for injustice.
They don't take "no" for an answer when they believe there is a better solution.
They go without new shoes so their children can have them.
They go to the doctor with a frightened friend.
They love unconditionally.
They cry when their children excel and cheer when their friends get awards.
They are happy when they hear about a birth or a new marriage.
Their hearts break when a friend dies.
They have sorrow at the loss of a family member, yet they are strong when they think there is no strength left.
They know that a hug and a kiss can heal a broken heart.
Women come in all sizes, in all colors and shapes.
They'll drive, fly, walk, run or e-mail you to show how muc