As I think back to this time, when Ginger (a marmalade-colored cat) lolled in a patch of sun near the piano while Helen played, when the chief of the Fire Department lived across the street in a house with a red door and red shutters, I also loved these:
I used to call them "one two threes" because my grandmother taught me to count by enumerating them as she gave them to me. I don't think they said "fat free" on the label way back then.
My grandmother taught me many valuable life lessons, mostly by example, but the things I remember during the "glow worm days" were simple. She baked chicken in a paper bag. I always marveled that the bag didn't go on fire. She ironed on a board that folded into the wall, which I would give anything to have now. She had a red love seat that wasn't balanced well and if the person on the inside got up suddenly, the person on the outside would fall off. I found this hilarious. We watched Elvis movies or Miss America accompanied by the clicking of her kniting needles.
Think she was a typical old lady? Think again. She drove a T-bird convertible, wore jeans, and worked until she was 85. One of her favorite songs was Bill Joel's "My Life." A boyfriend of mine once asked her to go with him to Club Med. She was that cool.
She glows in heaven now, glimmer, glimmer...