4/2/07
This is always a special day. My grandmother Mayer was 80 years old when I was born. I have a very special picture of her holding me as a baby. Caroline was her name and my second cousin Carrie was named for her and wore Grandmother’s wedding ring on her middle fingur until her untimely death from a hit-run driver at age 34. Grandmother had wavy silver - white hair, that wonderful really white with specks of shinny silver color. I was always impressed by the fact that she was a born when Lincoln was president. When you travel to old civilizations like Angkor Wat and see structures that were created in the 9th century, I guess 150 yrs ago doesn’t sound so old. She was a religious woman and a card carrying member of the WCTU – Women’s Christian Temperance Union and a parishioner at the Riverside Evangelic and Reform church. All of the folks, like sister Calhoun, called each other by the respectful name of brother and sister. They were a very small congregation and when we would pick grandma up on Sunday morning, they all appeared to have black coats, proper hats, and broaches. My grandfather, a doctor of languages, was always on her re her literal belief in the bible. He would point out that the Sanskrit or Greek word for the word in her bible had a very different meaning. She would say that she knows that he was learned, but the words were a comfort to her. He would go on about how she could find comfort in words with a different meaning etc. and she basically turned him out and off. It was always amazing to me how they every found each other and made a family of four boys. He was smart and strong and she was simple and sweetly kind. She called him pa, but the boys called him boss. He ran a tight ship and there was no talking at the dinner table (until me and I just talked and didn’t know any better and grandpa love it). She was a wonderful cook and baker and made rag rugs and listen to the bible thumpers on the radio... “just lay your hand on the radio and pray with me.. (and send money).” I would sit with her and lay my little hand next to her thin boney hand. I loved her hands and her silver white hair and she had a smell of old that I found comforting for it reminded me of her wisdom. Guess that is why it did not bother me when I worked in the nursing home. Worse things to be than old. While I tried her patience at times with my questions and unchanneled energy, she never said much to me about slowing down or staying out of the way. She was truly interested in everything I was doing and thought I would make a big difference in the world. For a learning disabled child, that was huge. She was the first person that I knew thought I was ok. I did know that when she was reading her bible, I did not bother her. Because she was a WCTU, there was never alcohol in the house, we did not play cards, and never mentioned that we went to the movies... all the devils workshop. She was special and this is her special day.
This is always a special day. My grandmother Mayer was 80 years old when I was born. I have a very special picture of her holding me as a baby. Caroline was her name and my second cousin Carrie was named for her and wore Grandmother’s wedding ring on her middle fingur until her untimely death from a hit-run driver at age 34. Grandmother had wavy silver - white hair, that wonderful really white with specks of shinny silver color. I was always impressed by the fact that she was a born when Lincoln was president. When you travel to old civilizations like Angkor Wat and see structures that were created in the 9th century, I guess 150 yrs ago doesn’t sound so old. She was a religious woman and a card carrying member of the WCTU – Women’s Christian Temperance Union and a parishioner at the Riverside Evangelic and Reform church. All of the folks, like sister Calhoun, called each other by the respectful name of brother and sister. They were a very small congregation and when we would pick grandma up on Sunday morning, they all appeared to have black coats, proper hats, and broaches. My grandfather, a doctor of languages, was always on her re her literal belief in the bible. He would point out that the Sanskrit or Greek word for the word in her bible had a very different meaning. She would say that she knows that he was learned, but the words were a comfort to her. He would go on about how she could find comfort in words with a different meaning etc. and she basically turned him out and off. It was always amazing to me how they every found each other and made a family of four boys. He was smart and strong and she was simple and sweetly kind. She called him pa, but the boys called him boss. He ran a tight ship and there was no talking at the dinner table (until me and I just talked and didn’t know any better and grandpa love it). She was a wonderful cook and baker and made rag rugs and listen to the bible thumpers on the radio... “just lay your hand on the radio and pray with me.. (and send money).” I would sit with her and lay my little hand next to her thin boney hand. I loved her hands and her silver white hair and she had a smell of old that I found comforting for it reminded me of her wisdom. Guess that is why it did not bother me when I worked in the nursing home. Worse things to be than old. While I tried her patience at times with my questions and unchanneled energy, she never said much to me about slowing down or staying out of the way. She was truly interested in everything I was doing and thought I would make a big difference in the world. For a learning disabled child, that was huge. She was the first person that I knew thought I was ok. I did know that when she was reading her bible, I did not bother her. Because she was a WCTU, there was never alcohol in the house, we did not play cards, and never mentioned that we went to the movies... all the devils workshop. She was special and this is her special day.
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