Today is my paternal grandmother’s birthday. Depending on whether you believe her marriage certificate or her baptismal record, she would have been 114 or 112. Both of my grandparents lied about their birthdates on their marriage license. In a previous blog post, A Question of Age, I covered this very subject. Spoiler alert, Grandpa had a good reason for his lie. Of Grandma’s lie, shoulder shrug, I have only unsatisfying speculation.
My children were 9, 12 and 15 when my grandmother died. I don’t think many children are lucky enough to have a relationship with a great grandmother, but my children had that privilege. We still talk and chuckle about “grandma stories.”
My grandmother was a good cook and an even better
baker. When she died, my mother found
herself the recipient of a basket with Grandma’s recipes. When my daughter married, I made a loose-leaf
notebook for her entitled, “In My Grandmother’s Kitchen” and put together some of our
favorite “Grandma Recipes.” Since I have
already written a birthday post about my Grandmother previously (My Grandmother, Anna), I thought this time I would post recipes from
the book.
My daughter was partial to the Zucchini Bread.
My grandmother was not the soft, cuddly kind of grandmother. I don’t remember her ever hugging me or
telling me that she loved me. Yet, I
always felt her love. It came through in
the tiniest of moments, the reams of advice (often unsolicited), the little
things she did to lighten a single mother’s load, the sweet taste of a favorite
cookie dropped off just when it was needed – that was my grandmother.
Happy Birthday, Grandma.
Your eldest granddaughter still misses you.
