I miss her.

I've been putting off writing this post now for a while... read below and you'll understand why...

I am absolutely convinced that I HAVE THE BEST GRANDPARENTS IN THE ENTIRE WORLD! I consider everyone elses grandparents just mediocre in comparison to my own.

I grew up a city girl. Born and raised in San Diego surrounded by the hustle and bustle of every day life; i.e. traffic jams, police sirens, lock in's at school because a bank near by was robbed, crowded beaches and malls... it was great growing up in the city, I wouldn't have had it any other way but I was thankful for any opportunity I had to escape into the country side on visits to see my grandparents. While the majority of my friends were busy dishing about their plans with their families to visit Las Vegas and stay in Circus Circus, I was consciously planning my vacation time I'd be spending with my grandparents, either in Arizona or New York. I had the best of both worlds!  They had sprawling estates; my grandparents in Arizona owned a pretty large chunk of land out in the desert next to  a mountain side; sunsets there were gorgeous! My mom tried to avoid taking us there during the summer to visit; it was just too scorching HOT but we managed to visit them at least once, if not twice every year growing up. My grandpa (my mom's dad) was a COWBOY; a REAL ROOTIN' TOOTIN' COWBOY! My mother grew up on a ranch and a farm in Cochise County, in a small town just outside of Tombstone (some of my ancestors actually were residents of Tombstone and real gunslingers and they had their own opinion of the famed Wyatt Earp from personal encounters with him and his brothers- he wasn't the most honest deputy in town and Hollywood's portrayal of him and Doc Hollywood could not have been more wrong)!  My grandpa was a legendary man (well at least he was in my mind ); he caught and tamed wild Mustangs with his father and spent most of his younger years exploring the open wilderness while herding cattle on his horse.  It was during this time that he discovered the remains of dinosaur bones which are now in the possession of a few colleges in Arizona.  My grandpa had long since sold his ranch and horses by the time we grandkids came along, but he never hung up his cowboy hat or his boots.  He wore those everyday till the day he died (he passed away in 2002).  As youth, we spent the majority of our time exploring the desert, chasing horned toad lizards and helping my grandpa in his garden (Yes! He had a HUGE garden out in the middle of the desert).  My grandma fixed home made rootbeer for us grandkids and she made the BEST tamales EVER!  She spoiled us in the mornings with ice cream on top of our cereal and she always left out Doritos and Rolos mixed together in a bowl on the tabletop for us kids to snack on (it's really a wonder that we didn't become fat!).

My other grandparents who lived in beautiful western New York owned lake front property; their backyard poured out right into Lake Ontario (one of the 5 Great Lakes).

Below is a picture of the lake from my grandparents old lake house property. 

The shore line was frozen over and those peaks are actually frozen waves!

 My brother, sisters and I spent many summers as children canoeing on the lake, wading in the frigid waters and writing and shipping off pretend S.O.S. messages in glass bottles across the lake.  We played croquet on the lawn and ate suppers that my grandmother prepared, in the boathouse every evening, watching as the sun set over the water.

My grandpa was retired by the time any of us children were born.  He spent most his afternoons in his cellar or out in his wood shop working on his boats.  Click here to see an example of one.  When he wasn't busy working on his model boats, he was hard at work out in his garden or mowing his BIG sprawling lawn.

My grandma spent a lot of her time sewing, cooking and baking.  She was an AMAZING seamstress, right down to pure perfection on her dresses and dolls that she made us grandchildren for holidays, particularly Easter.  She was also T.H.E. B.E.S.T. C.O.O.K.  She pickled her own cucumbers from her own garden and canned her own green and yellow beans.  I remember watching her for hours in the kitchen do this and she was always so patient with me if I dared to sneak a cucumber from the jar before she could seal it.  She had a special way of preparing the tastiest vegetables!  If they didn't come straight from her own garden, she would take me with her that very day down the road to a neighbors fresh produce stand to buy some.  She always fixed an assortment of vegetables for supper and lunch everyday... lima beans in butter, sliced cucumber, fried eggplant, cabbage, yellow beans, squash, BRUSSEL SPROUTS, etc...  My grandmother also made T.H.E. B.E.S.T. chocolate chip cookies. Don't believe me? It's true!  She gave me her recipe for them a few years ago and since then I have tried over and over to make a batch of cookies taste just like the ones she used to make but I never succeed.  She was a GENIUS in the kitchen!

My grandmother was the best hostess ever! She could seriously shame Martha Stewart.  Not only was she a fabulous cook/baker/ seamstress, but her home was always cleaned to perfection and she was so well organized.  In her latter years, my grandfather decided to hire a maid to come and clean their home once every week... you know, just to help my grandma out, so she wouldn't have to do the cleaning herself.  My grandfather later joked during one of our visits back east that my grandma would actually clean the house thoroughly every time before the maid would arrive, just because my grandma hated to let the maid see a messy house!  I've decided after hearing that story that I must have inherited some of my grandmother's mad cleaning skills!   My grandma was pretty darn crafty; she taught me one summer how to make corn husk dolls- during which while making them I lost interest because they were such a pain to make and the work was tedious, so she finished making them for me.  My grandmother went out of her way one summer that I came to visit to find me the game of Scrabble (I LOVE IT) so we could play it after supper; both her and my grandpa weren't really fans of the game but they still played it with me JUST BECAUSE they knew I enjoyed playing it (my grandpa won every time!).  They enjoyed doing crossword puzzles everyday.  Sometimes they did them on their own and a lot of the time they did them together.  I was the cutest thing to watch.  My grandmother knew I LOVED animals so she arranged to have me go horse back riding one day during summer when I was 13 years old (it was my first time EVER on a horse).  She'd also take me out every once and while to visit my dad's cousin Rosemary just so I could mingle with sheep.  When I was bored, she encouraged me to visit their town library and check out a book to read. Outside she would show me what all the different wild flowers were, like purple thistles, Queens Anne's Lace, Pussy Willow, Jackolantern flowers and Snapdragons.  She loved flowers and she meticulously cared for her African Violet Flowers that my parents gave her years and years ago.   I mentioned previously that my grandmother was an AMAZING seamstress; she tried to teach me when I was younger how to sew. I recall going into town (Lockport) to the fabric stores, picking out fabric, thread and patterns for dresses with her.  She showed me how to pin the pattern to the fabric, and cut it just so; then she demonstrated how to thread the spool on the sewing machine and she neither raised her voice nor lost her patience with me when I did a crappy job sewing along the lines; instead she'd just carefully tear up every stitch, one by one, and then hand it back to me to do over again.  I remember wanting to make dozens of skirts and dresses one summer with my grandma; I was in the 5TH grade.  I think we only made one- I lost interest in sewing even before I finished my first dress that summer; my grandma actually completed the dress for me.  It was beautiful of course; just like all of the work she had done.  Thinking back, now, I wish I had shown more patience for sewing... I could have learned a great deal from her about the art.

My grandmother had a wealth of knowledge, particularly when it came to our family history.  I loved it when she shared tales about her childhood (she was the youngest of 8 children; I felt I shared a bond with her because we were both the youngest in our families).  I appreciated that she shared what ever knowledge she had of our heritage with me.  My grandmother was the kind of grandma who would send newspaper clippings in the mail anytime she thought an article would be of interest to us.  She also went out of her way every Fall to send us Jackolatern flowers (don't know what they are, click here to see a picture of them) and Pussy Willow.  As kids, we were always so excited anytime one of grandma's care packages arrived in the mail.  They always contained a bucket of carefully wrapped and packaged chocolate chip cookies, some homemade chocolates (she made the BEST peanut butter cups and crispie milk chocolates) and usually another goody or two like Sunday dresses she made with t.l.c. or a teddy bear with teddy bear clothing she stitched together for us (now a days kids have "Build a Bear Workshop" but my grandma's little stuffed bears and dolls she made us were W.A.Y. better than anything at "Build a Bear").  She made each of us grandchildren our own afghan blankets.  Mine was lavender.  I still have it to this day.  She made me my first Care Bear and she also made my older sister Tricia and brother Jeff their own Raggedy Ann and Andy.  My grandma always sent us the kindest little cards in the mail; she'd always describe to us what the weather back in Barker was like, how high the snow drifts were and she'd always express to us how often she thought of us and how much she loved us.  The cards suddenly began to mean more to me the older I grew, while I was away in college or on my mission in Portugal or here in Utah mothering my own children.   For little holidays like Halloween and Valentines Day, she would send each of my kids their own individual cards, with a dollar bill enclosed.  It probably wouldn't mean much to any adult, but to my kids, especially my older ones, Noah and Ian, they thought she had just sent them a fortune!

I feel lucky and fortunate to have had the grandparents I have been blessed with in my life.  All four of my grandparents have lived long enough to see all of us grandchildren mature and become adults.  Most of them, with the exception of my mom's dad, have all had the chance to meet some my children.  I knew it was only a matter of time though before each of them would fulfill their time here on earth and pass through the veil of life. 

Two months ago, on February 6TH, I received a call from my father informing me that my grandma, his mother, passed away earlier that evening. She had just been moved only a month and a half earlier from her apartment in a retirement home that she shared with my grandpa into an assisted living center; she had been battling Parkinson's Disease for YEARS and she just no longer could function on her own without some assistance. She was 88 years old. She had lived long enough to remember The Great Depression, send her husband off to war in World War II, send her eldest son (my dad) off to war in Vietnam, she outlived both her parents, all of her 7 older siblings and most of her good friends.

Friends of mine have asked me if my grandmothers death came as a shock or if it was expected.  I can honestly tell you that the news of her death came as a bit of both.  I half expected it just because she was older.  Not too many people survive to see their eighties, let alone almost see their nineties; but that doesn't necessarily mean I expected her to die at any moment.  Both she and my grandfather were pretty active seniors; she liked to get out and take walks around the neighborhood or walk on her treadmill before they both decided to move from their large house in Barker to the retirement home in Lockport a year and a half ago.  She's had Parkinson's for some while now, but always seemed to have control of herself despite the constant battle she fought with the disease.  I could call her up on the phone any day and discuss the weather with her and she'd tell me about the "happenings" around the retirement home or with her neighbors back at home and I'd tell her tales about my boys... she NEVER once hinted to me that she was tired, sick or in pain.

I miss her.  She has now been gone for exactly two months and one day from today's date. There is not one day yet that hasn't gone by that I have not thought of her.  Some days, I'm tempted to dial her phone number, just to talk to her, to hear her say my name... she always had such a special way of calling me by my name; just by the manner she'd say it, I knew that I was special to her... but then I remember she's gone.  I know good and well, that's she's not gone forever.  I know that someday, I'll see her again.  Death is just a temporary parting, thank goodness for that, but jeez I miss her.  I'm selfish and I just wish she had more time here on earth with us, with my grandfather... I know he misses her, and that pains me more thinking about his loss- their separation.  They had been married for 66 years; the only time they were ever apart from each other was during the war (World War II), as newlyweds, while my grandpa was stationed over in Europe.

I know that my father misses her too.  He's older now and he's a grandfather himself, but I don't think that even the fact that he's older eases the pain of loosing a mother.  He was a "Mommy's boy" (sorry dad, you probably hate that I'm calling you that, but truth is you were); his mom meant the world to him! He left home after finishing high school to enlist in the Navy and serve in the Vietnam War.  He was stationed at first in San Diego before heading out to sea and over to Vietnam and that is when he decided that once he was finished in the Navy he wanted to return and settle there.  I'm sure it drove my grandparents crazy to have their oldest son and daughter in law and 5 grandchildren living so far away from them, but my dad was always consistent with keeping them in touch, informing them of what was going on in our lives and we visited them often; at least once every other year, if not more often.  We called them on the phone regularly and made and sent them videotapes.  We drew them pictures; I sculpted them a cat teapot in high school that was SO UGLY but they loved it regardless.  At times, they would fly out west to visit with us.  They always stayed in a hotel just up the street from our house.  My grandma would bring a suit case full of chocolate chip cookies with her, and she'd stock her little fridge full of Yoplait Fruit Yogurts so we could have a snack after going swimming in their hotel pool.  My father loved her, not only because he thought the world of her as his mother, but because she thought the world of him as her son.

After hearing the news of her death, I began almost immediately making travel arrangements back to New York so that I could attend her funeral.  Spencer was a true sport and stayed behind to watch all 4 of the boys for the 4 days I was gone (not too many dads I know would volunteer to watch a 4 year old, a 2 1/2 year old, a 1 1/2 year old and a 6 month old on their own); that's why I love him though- he is AMAZING!  I knew making flight arrangements back east into the Buffalo airport was going to be a doozy.  It took me all day that following Monday to book and confirm my flight to and fro.  Not only was it expensive flying at the last minute (there went my plans the following week to buy a rec pass to the Lehi Legacy Center) but it was the dead of Winter and the east coast was getting pounded with Snowmageddon that week (luckily for me though, Buffalo wasn't getting much of the snow... weird yes, because Buffalo is the snow capital for the U.S....but perfectly fine with me... it would make traveling back there just that much easier).  My parents flight out of San Diego on JetBlue into JFK and then onto Buffalo was canceled that Tuesday because of the snow.  My sister Celeste's flight on JetBlue from Salt Lake that same evening was also canceled for the same reasons (eventually they all made it back there safe and sound).  I was traveling back early on Thursday morning with my sister Tricia (her amazing husband stayed behind to watch all 8 of their kids for the 4 days).  Our departing flight out of Salt Lake got delayed for two hours because of snow (seriously?! It hardly snowed at all during the Winter, but the one day we needed to fly out from the airport, Mother Nature decided to ground us with INCHES of fresh powder falling in just a short period of time!).  We made it to Detroit, but arrived at our departing gate 2 minutes too late and watched helplessly as our connecting flight flew off of the runway and into the horizon.  That put a little hiccup in our flight plans, but we managed to rebook another connecting flight for just a couple of hours later than our original which gave us time to eat! We were starving so we dined at Chile's; I paid for both our meals even after Tricia boasted about the "lots of cash" that she had tucked away in her wallet!  Seriously, I love my sister, but we were in Detroit of all places (not exactly the country's safest city) and she waved her wallet around at least twice in the airport announcing to me (and everyone else in sight) that it had LOTS of $$$cash$$$ in it and she was ready to spend it!  It immediately became apparent to me that she was going to be a liability during this trip (she did the same thing at least half a dozen times through out the whole trip!).  I also realized that we were both in a bit of trouble since neither of us were wearing our wedding rings (she lost hers and mine no longer fits over my fat knuckles) and so we looked like two single gals; we were seated right next to the bar in Chiles and we had a coupe of S.H.R.'s (stare hard retards), otherwise known as creepy German drunk guys molesting us with their eyes from their seats at the bar.  Talk about UNCOMFORTABLE! I tried to eat in a hurry, just to get out of there, but my sister Tricia was completely oblivious and took her time; she was seated in the booth with her back to them.  After eating, Tricia expressed how she wished we could have had a longer layover in Detroit; you know, enough of a layover to give us time to "explore" the city. I quickly reminded her that I didn't think there was much to Detroit to "explore" except for The Projects, and I wasn't about to venture into them.  I did however tell her that on our way back home, since we'd be traveling again through Detroit, that perhaps we should stop and check out some GM dealerships.  Surely Suburbans in Detroit have to be cheaper than any sold else where in the country, don't ya think?  We could both use new Suburbans for our families.

We made our new connecting flight and after an hour or so in the air, we were in Buffalo!  We made it just time to attend the viewing (it was closed casket) and visit with my grandpa and some his family and friends.  We were a bit under dressed for the occasion though; we didn't have any time to stop at the hotel we were staying at before going to the viewing so we had to wear what wore on the plane.  I was wearing jeans and a bright green Jazz basketball shirt that Spencer bought for me (luckily I had my dress coat on and it concealed the Jazz shirt).  Tricia was wearing something bright pink, a hoodie I think, and black exercise pants with Uggs; she made a quick switcheroo at the airport from her Uggs to a pair of tall black leather dress boots she snatched from her luggage and she looked pretty snazzy for the occasion! I'm pretty sure that no one but myself really knew she wearing exercise pants.

It was good to see my grandpa and visit with some family (i.e. my dad's cousins, neighbors and old friends).  I spent most of the time while we were at the viewing sitting beside my grandpa.  He held our hands for most of the time; I knew in my heart by his gesture he was happy to have us there and needed someone's hand to hold to make it through that difficult time.

I did okay during the viewing; I expected to cry a lot more than I did.  My grandma is only the 2ND person close to me during my lifetime that I've lost (my maternal grandfather was the 1ST).  I've only ever been to a handful of funerals, all of which were for acquaintances.  I consider myself fortunate but also extremely vulnerable because I haven't ever had to deal with the emotions associated with the loss of a loved one before in my life until now.

My sister Tricia and I stayed at a hotel in Lockport near my grandfathers place while the rest of my family (mom, dad, Celeste, Aunt Sharon, Uncle John, Aunt Debbie and Uncle Dave) stayed in Barker at my grandparents home.  Spending so much time with my sister Trish was comic relief.  She and I laughed over the silliest things and discussed the funniest stuff only sisters would ever talk about.  At times she nearly had me crying because I was laughing so hard.  I'm pretty sure that NO ONE, especially those people traveling on the planes with us, or out in public, had any idea how old either of us were... they probably all would have predicted that I was the oldest, Tricia being my younger sister.  Strangers probably also would NEVER have believed that between the two of us, we had 12 CHILDREN that we left behind with our husbands! Well actually 12 1/2.  Tricia only discovered she was pregnant just a few weeks before the trip back east.  She's due to have another girl in September!  I slept great through out the trip! It was probably the first time I had been able to sleep through the night uninterrupted for the last 4 or 5 years! A mother like myself can truly appreciate some good rest!

The following morning, on Friday February 12TH,  we attended my grandmother's funeral services at the funeral home in Newfane.  Her preacher from the Baptist Church in West Somerset that she attended all of her life, presided over the services.  He shared the short story "The Dash" with those of us in attendance (click here to read it).  I had never heard it before, (though my husband later told me it's a world famous poem that has touched millions of lives) and I was deeply touched by it.  With out question, my grandmother certainly had a great dash in life! She was extraordinary and everyone who knew her well, and even those who were only acquaintances of hers, knew that she was a beautiful woman, both inside and outside.
I lost it a couple of times during the funeral; the reality that she was gone was finally setting in.  The preacher gave my dad's younger brother, Uncle Dave, some time to share some thoughts about my grandmother with the rest of us in attendance... he told us all about the kind of mother she was and grandmother she was to his two daughters... Unfortunately, I don't know my Uncle Dave very well (he and his wife and two daughters have always lived in Boston), but he was the youngest of my grandparent's 3 children and it was interesting to hear just how much she was loved by him and his family... the feelings we all shared for her within our own little families were mutual amongst all the relatives and friends.  She was dearly LOVED by everyone!

After the service was over, we followed the funeral procession by car for a short while till we came to the Hartland Cemetery on Ridge Road.  It's the same cemetery my grandmother would often take me to water and care for the plants at her own parents graves.  The weather couldn't have been any more beautiful during the burial services.  It was bitter cold, but there were just light snowflakes falling from the sky; then for a moment, the clouds cleared and the sun shined down over the cemetary; everyone in attendance seemed to notice the rays of sun beaming down for that minute or two, because as we left it was all I heard everyone talking about.

 I LOVE her.  I miss her.  I think about her daily.

During the rest of our time spent in New York, my sister Tricia and I spent a lot of time visiting with family, especially my grandpa.

Below is my sister Tricia, my oldest sister Celeste and myself with my grandpa.

The only ones missing from this picture 

were my sister Janna and my brother Jeff, 

both of whom just couldn't make it out to the funeral.

This was the first time in YEARS that most of my family had all been gathered together in New York.  I used to visit practically every year growing up, but I was the youngest and my 4 older siblings were all grown and living on their own by the time I was in junior high school.  My mom and my sister Celeste both left New York that Saturday morning.  Trish and I weren't scheduled to fly out until the following day and my dad stuck around for another 4 days just to keep my grandpa company.

On Saturday, we tried to visit an Amish grocery store in a nearby village; I'd shopped there twice before with my grandmother, but with her passing also went the directions to find the place.  My dad, sister and I drove around aimlessly for an hour before finding the store, which upon arriving we found had closed only 30 minutes earlier!  So since we had time to kill we decided to go to Niagara Falls (it's only about a 40 minute car ride from my grandparents home in Barker) ; I was half tempted to ask if we could visit Palmyra (it's an hour and 20 minutes from my grandparents home in Barker) but then I remembered that the Sacred Grove wouldn't look very impressive during the dead of winter.  We arrived at The Falls just before the sun set.  We had to visit The American Falls since we couldn't cross over onto the Canadian side without our passport.

It was FREEZING at The Falls (and very windy). I think I remember the people telling us that with the humidity and windchill it was -20 degrees below!  Most of the river below the cascading water was frozen over with ice at least a couple of feet thick! We had just enough energy and warmth to stand by The Falls for a quick photo op. and then we were out of there like lightning!

I decided during this trip that my sister Tricia's nickname should be "Thumbelina"... 

she's so tiny!

She makes me look like a giant next her and I'm her baby sister!

After visiting The Falls we went to dinner with my Aunt Sharon (my dad's younger, and only sister) and her husband, John, at an Italian restaurant in Lockport.  It was a REAL Italian restaurant... you know, the kind that somebody in the mafia owns... no joke! Tricia and I were FASCINATED to learn that there was mafia still hanging around town- not that I'd want someone from the Italian mafia to be my neighbor... I'm just saying, we thought it was pretty cool.  We certainly don't have encounters with anyone from the mafia out here in the West, especially in Utah.  There are a lot of old mafia folk around Lockport and in Niagara County.  This Italian restaurant even had a gluten free menu with g.f. items to choose from.  I chose the spaghetti and meatballs.  It was delish! Best gluten free spaghetti I have EVER had and those meatballs... O.M.G.! I dream about those meatballs!  So good!

Our last night in New York, we checked out of our hotel and stayed at my grandparents house with my dad and aunt and uncle.  There was something so nostalgic about being in grandparents home without them being there.  That following morning I found a wind chime out on their back porch that I decided to take home with me... wind chimes remind me of my grandparents house by the lake.  I also found a set of my grandma's measuring spoons hanging above her stove that I decided to take home with me.  They were colorful and not your ordinary set of measuring spoons; especially because they were the ones that my grandma used to cook and bake with.  Perhaps now that I have them, they'll help me be a better chef in the kitchen like my grandma was....(fingers crossed!)

Before catching our flight home, we ate breakfast with my dad, Grandpa, Aunt Sharon and Uncle John.  We ate at the local Denny's.  The place was hopping because it was Sunday morning and Valentines Day. I'm glad that my sister Tricia and I decided to stick around long enough in New York to spend part of Valentines Day with my grandpa.  I imagine it probably would have been pretty difficult and lonely for him if he didn't have family close by to keep him company.  He's so cute; at breakfast at the retirement home earlier that morning the staff gave each of the residents a little heart shaped container with pieces of candy inside it.  My grandpa snuck two containers from the breakfast tables and gave myself and Tricia each one.  I love him and it was terribly hard saying good bye to him too because I don't know when I'll have the next opportunity to go out and see him.

My grandfather is in my thoughts and prayers every day.  Tricia and I have made a few care packages for him since being home.  We've attempted to make him chocolate chip cookies, just like the ones my grandmother used to make him and while they don't taste exactly the same as hers for some reason, we hope he's enjoying them! We've also let the kids draw him pictures and cards to add to the packages and we usually slip in a bag of M&M's. He LOVES candy!

Below are a couple of pictures we found and fell in love with during our visit back east....

This is Flora May (my grandmother) 

with my dad Richard; he was her oldest child.  

She had him while my grandpa was still enlisted in the Army and in Europe during World War II. 

She was essentially a "single" mommy till the war was over and my grandpa returned home; 

by that time my dad was nearly (or already?) 1 years old.  

Those were definitely different times, 

when lovers had no choice but to be separated due to the war...

there was no source of communication except through telegrams and photographs.

The following photograph is of my grandmother as a young school girl.

I think this picture was taken her first day of grade school.

 

 I LOVE this picture!

It was taken while my grandma and grandpa were courting in the early 1940's.

These two pictures below were taken the day they were married.

I'll be honest,

it always bothered me that my grandmother wasn't smiling for this photo.

I can't remember a time I ever saw her NOT smiling.

I suppose she had her reasons;

I'm sure she wasn't thrilled imagining life with out her husband while he was off at war.

Speaking of weddings...

...I stumbled across this old gem.

It's a photo taken from the day my parents were wed.

My mother wore the less traditional wedding dress, a purple mini,

and my father skipped wearing the tux and decided to wear his fancy Sunday suit.

Isn't my mother GORGEOUS?!

She was a bombshell!

My father was pretty darn handsome too!

 

 They were married at the same chapel in Pacific Beach where Spencer and I held our wedding reception.

Here were our leaving the chapel on our wedding day,

something like 32 years after my parents stood in front of it as newlyweds.

 We found this picture of my grandpa's family hanging on the wall in his apartment at the retirement home.

He's the small one, with the blond bowl cut.

Wasn't he A.D.O.R.A.B.L.E.?!

If I examine it closely enough,

I've decided that Cohen (our 1 year old) gets his dashing good looks from my grandfather.

They both have the same soft cheeks, the same smile, same brows, same ears and all the same fine features.

Cohen's hair isn't blond like my grandfather's was,

but aside from that,

they look remarkably alike!

My grandpa was probably even the same age as Cohen now when this picture was taken.

This following picture is of my dad (he's the oldest one of the left), 

his little sister Sharon & his baby brother Dave.

In case you've ever wondered where my 2ND oldest, Ian, got his charming good looks,

here's the answer...

...my dad.

 

 This next picture below is just PRECIOUS!

It's my dad's great aunt, Aunt Louis,

as a baby with her mother or nanny (we're not exactly certain).

This picture was taken sometime just before the turn of the 20TH century.

Don't you just love the clothing they're both wearing,

especially the bonnets?! 

And that picket fence behind them;

it's so tall but SO cute.

I found these following pictures here at my place...

Below is a picture my grandpa took of me, my dad and my grandma

at their lake house in New York sitting on the wall that divided their property from the water.

I think I was only about a year old when this picture was taken.

My dad flew me back to New York with him so I could meet my grandparents for the first time.

When our oldest, Noah, was only 2 months old, 

Spencer and I flew back to my grandparents in New York

to introduce him to them...

...I returned later that following summer for another visit on my own with Noah, 

when he was 11 months old...

he experienced a lot of firsts at his great grandma and grandpas during that visit.

For instance, he ate like a king for the first time in his life!

My grandma made roast beef, carrots and potatoes in the crock pot one evening

and he ate it all!

I even dished him up 2NDS and 3RDS that night at dinner!

He had his first chocolate chip cookie at grandma's.

He began to finally drag himself across the carpet at grandma's house;

he was after her little porcelain bunny rabbit!

He took his first dip in a lake while he was back there visiting

(Penn Yan lake, NOT Lake Ontario).

He had his first swing on a swing in New York, with great grandma by his side!

She also taught him "Buzzy Bee" and "Patty Cake" out on the grass one afternoon.

 

...and just how she had shown me once when I was a little child,

she showed Noah the Queen Ann's Lace that grew wild around the lake shore.

 

That summer was the last time I had been out to see my grandparents.

That was 3 1/2  years ago.

 

My grandparents had since been out here to Utah for a visit.

They came the following year, 2 1/2 years ago, to stay for a week 

and visit with us grandchildren and meet all of their great-grandchildren.

Ian (our 2ND oldest) had been born by that time they came to visit.

He was 2, almost 3 months old.

Here he is below with my grandma holding him on his blessing day.

Don't you just love the smirk he's giving her?!

I LOVE her. I miss her. I think and dream about her often.

She was wonderful!

We all knew it.

Like I said previously my grandmother was the BEST grandmother in the whole world!

Other grandmother's are just mediocre in comparison to HER.

Just a funny side note:  I was reading through some letters my grandmother sent me when I came across a note she'd written me about her memories of my father as a young child.

In the note she wrote the following:

"Dick (my father) was a very observant child and would check out the rooms every early A.M. to see if anything had changed.  We tied our kitchen cabinets closed to keep him out."

I laughed upon reading this little excerpt.  At long last I have an answer!  You see, if you're a friend of mine of Facebook, you'll recall that for WEEKS, if not MONTHS, I've been complaining about the boys, Noah & Ian, sneaking out of their rooms in the middle of the night to raid our fridge and pantry!  At long last, I finally know that it's not a learned behavior but an inherited one! They have INHERITED the behavior from my DAD!

P.S. This is the picture Spencer sent to me on my phone during my layover in Detroit on my way home Sunday...

... he managed to get all 3 of the older boys to nap together on the couch!

...and I was worried he'd have a hard time watching the boys without my help!