Currently Browsing: my grandparents

Choices

In my defense, I have to say that I really never stood a chance.

I was five, and my mother called me into the living room, where Grandma was waiting in a recliner. “Hello, Shanny,” she said. I screamed — and covered my eyes with my[...] read more

Going South

My guess is that you don’t eat too many red beans. I say that because aside from my family, and people I have converted through force-feeding, I can’t say I’ve met too many people whose eyes light up at the mention of “red beans.”[...] read more

Shake ‘n Bake … and a Shake

When I was a little girl, I lived in the south from the ages of 7 to 10. Oklahoma first, and then Arkansas, to be specific. We moved there when my mother remarried, and it took a whole twelve minutes for my younger sister and I to acclimate ourselves[...] read more

Passion

In terms of pure romance, no open-shirted, smooth-chested, flowing-haired, pony-riding hero ever held a candle to my grandfather. Though I read and enjoyed all the best fairy tales as a child and spent my fair share of Saturday afternoons sitting through[...] read more

Pieces

My proper but mischievous grandmother had one firm rule about cussing: If you must do it, do it in the barn. I believe now that her unspoken message was “animal behavior belongs with the animals,” but we didn’t hear that subtext[...] read more

Twig and Feather
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