My Grandmother

My grandmother died when I was 9 y.o. She could be stern and made me behave…so she wasn’t my favorite. What I didn’t or couldn’t understand at the time was how much she carried on her shoulders. She had inherited a farm that dated to 1840. She, her husband and their son, my father, were the stewards of that farm and it was her keen understanding of how to manage a farm that carried them through. Thank you, Lena, for all you were and thank you too for producing my father. I owe you everything.