Last weekend, my grandmother celebrated her 90th birthday. We sent her a pop-up card. My mother and dad were able to go back to Milwaukee for the fun.
My grandmother and grandfather spent a good part of their retirement crafting and selling their little creations at shows in shopping malls. I have quite a few things they made. My grandfather did a lot of small woodwork. I have a spice rack and most of the wooden toys he made, although they have seen a lot of wear and tear, especially a pull toy that Sam drug around the back patio as toddler in California until it fell apart.
A lesser toy, made of plastic, would have never withstood what Grandpa made.
This is unlike my father, who excels at creating furniture — I have seven or eight pieces that he built or rehabbed for us — he had enough of the small work crafting crowns and bridges and filling people’s teeth, I think. But I digress.
“Home is where you hang your heart.”
That’s my grandmother. Only recently, did I start really looking at what else grandma hangs on the key rack besides her heart.
Dang, grandma, you’ve got a set of boxing gloves, a set of shoulder pads, and a pair of nunchucks hanging there.
No wonder you’re living so long.
Happy Birthday, Grandma!