When I was a little girl, our family would visit my grandmother, Doris, nearly every weekend.

My grandmother was very short and round, and always wore a housedress - you know, those tent shaped, sleevless ones that button down the front. She had long, silver hair that she wore pinned up in a bun on the top of her head. My grandmother never wore her dentures, so her "f"'s sounded a lot like "p"'s.

My grandmother served boiled navy beans and slices of Webber's white bread with every meal - even Christmas dinner.

My father would be in the living room with one or more of his brothers - drinking beer and watching whatever sporting event was on the television. They didn't talk much, and usually they took their shirts off. That kind of grossed me out - plus it was pretty boring. I would ultimately wind up in the kitchen with the women-folk - my mother and a couple of aunts - sitting around my grandmother's formica table. The women would be drinking coffee from little melmac teacups, and talking about one thing or another.

Sometimes, they would allow me to have a small teacup of coffee, with half milk and sugar.

I could sit there, for hours and hours - just listening to the sound of their voices, sipping my coffee and watching my grandmother sweep imaginary crumbs off her formica table top.

April 20, 2002

Buh Bye!
October 05, 2008

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