This lovely lady, gone six years now, would have been 108 years old today.
I miss her every day.
From a September 2001 letter to her:
Thanks for your own letter this week. I think of you often. You’ve been more than an aunt to me in so many ways. I’ve always held you more close to my heart than Flora, in part because of our physical proximity and in part because you were the grandmother figure who taught me how to cook and entertained my childhood imagination (vacuum cleaner hose, Battle Hymn and all). Now with Ruthie gone and with Mom gone for over three years, I’m even more aware of how much a part you’ve played in my life these forty years. As I put up pickles this afternoon I thought of Grandma and learning this art from her, but my Saturdays in autumn are ladled with memories of football days in Columbia, of your kitchen, of dinner at your table, of you and Uncle John and all those things that Columbia and Saturdays and that week in the summer was to me as a kid. Sometimes now, as middle age firmly sinks in, those memories overwhelm me. Thank you a thousand million times for being who you are.