Pocketbooks, Pianos & Ping Pong

Today is my Granny Helen's memorial service.
She was born into Heaven last November.
A month away from 99 years of age.
Our family chose to wait until today to celebrate her long and FULL life
because we wanted to ALL be together to do so.
Isn't she cute?

My Granny was beautiful.
I think almost anyone would say so.
She had piercing BLUE eyes.
Ones she passed on to her children.
She had clear, soft skin.
And hair that was always coiffed.
Nails that were always painted.
And a dazzling smile.
She was always a lady.

My Granny was graceful.
Again, almost anyone would say so.
She was gentle in spirit.
Strong in Faith.
and Courageous in times of uncertainty.

My Granny grew up on a farm in Kansas.
Go Jayhawks!
She was a daughter, a sister, a wife, a mother, a widow, and a newlywed again...
all before she was ever my Granny.

My Granny carried a Pocketbook.
You or I would call it a purse.
She called leaving the Island
"Going Into Town,"
and when she had to pee
she called it "Tinkle."

My Granny ate Popcorn for dinner on Sundays.
And salted peanuts.
And sliced green apples.
And Classic Coke poured over ice in a crystal glass.

My Granny was a 1960 Emerald Green Mercedes Benz.
With the top down.
And hard coffee candies in the glove box.

My Granny slept on a satin pillow.
One that was shaped to fit her neck and head.
Except for when I stayed over.
And then she gave it to me.

My Granny was a musician.
She played the piano like nobody's business.
Like a Player Piano.
Like Gershwin or Beethoven or Handel.
She could hammer out Moonlight Sonata with her eyes closed...
and it would make you cry it was so good.

My Granny was homemade Peach Ice Cream.
Churned in the patio with rock salt and blocks of ice.
All while being watched by a giant Sea Turtle.

My Granny picked me up after school once a week and we'd get ice cream.
She...Pecan Praline.
Me...Mint Chocolate Chip.
We'd go home to her house and make dinner.
Grandpa Merrill's Spaghetti Chili
and Lemon Meringue Pie with a Kebler graham cracker crust.

My Granny was a Golfer.
And forbid the TV to be on during dinner.
Unless it was the Masters.
Or the Lakers.
She loved Kobe Bryant almost as much as she loved Billy Graham.

My Granny kept stale loaves of bread to feed the ducks.
And bacon to feed the crabs.
And chocolate donuts to feed Grandpa.
All of the above, saved safe in her freezer.

My Granny loved Jesus Christ.
Hymns and daily devotions were routine.
As were donuts after church if you found her in the quad.

My Granny was a competitor.
She'd kick your ass in Ping Pong or Rummy Tile on any given night.
Loser did the dishes.
Winner had to earn it.
She never gave it away.

My Granny was Summer and Seashells.
Sand and Seawalls.

My Granny was My Granny...
and I will always love her.