Born in 1917, she turns 95 this month. She was a teacher and married to my grandpa, a probate judge, the country coroner, justice of the peace, school superintendent, insurance salesman and owner of the title company in town, among other things, in a small town where people often wore many hats in the community. She has a sweet tooth like no other. She passed it to my dad, who passed it to me and when we're together, there will always be cake or ice cream or cookies, or all three at once. This was such an occasion as we celebrated her monumental birthday and she was funny as she not-so-patiently insisted it was time to cut the cake. Conversation continued and she kept bringing it back to the cake. My grandma Elsie taught me to crochet. Grannie squares her lesson of choice and I remember the multi-colored afghans draped over the couch. She is funny and witty and smart and still loves to play games. She made mudpies with me and we played dolls on the river's edge while my parents and brother fished. She once threw me a birthday party, I was, oh, 5 or 6 maybe. It was a June summer afternoon, on the side yard with a bright paper covered picnic table, kool-aid, plenty of sweets, my younger brother and neighbor kids I only saw when visiting her house in that small town in central Idaho. I think I vaguely remember it, but there is a photo of that exact scene and sometimes I wonder if I remember the scene because of the photo, or the other way around. Either way, it reminds me of the importance of pictures and I was so happy to have the chance to visit and snap a few of her this weekend. Happy birthday Gram!
Edited to add the birthday photo. The back says "9th birthday" so I was a bit older. And I fixed my Grandpa's jobs. Mom said he wasn't a sheriff, as I had listed, but he was a whole lot more than I knew! And check out the full on mullett I was sporting!
