A storyteller

A storyteller


This has nothing to do with adoption, but a ton to do about me and mine…The memories of my Grammie sometimes slam into me. I have tons of cousins because she believed in family and so did all of her children. She was the most influential person in my life… There was just something so different about her.


my mom and my gram

In my mind right now, I had a vision of her telling a story. She was a MASTER!! Her arms would wave, her body would pantomime, her voice would change, her face would bunch up, poke out, and her head would bob at the right places to tell her story… here is one I remember.


“I had hoity totty cousins. They had a lot of money, their father, my uncle worked for Glosser Brothers ( local high end store) and had money during the depression when no one did…

They grew up and were “just so”. One day, we met and went out to lunch. My arms were always just a bit too long for all the coats I had so, I would cut cuffs off of old coats and just stuff them in the arms of whatever newer coat I had. It worked perfectly.

We got our table. It was a super nice restaurant. We talked and laughed, I thought I was just like them…until I looked down at my tea cup. My cuffs were flapping. I had taken off my coat and my ragged cuffs were flapping in the wind. I didn’t know what to do. So I tried to inconspicuously take them off, and I knocked over my tea all over my pants. I jumped up, cuffs flapping with a shriek; Making everyone’s head in the restaurant turn towards us. . For some reason, they never asked me to go out to dinner with them again. They just came to the house to visit.”


Yep my gram. She was who she was… we all loved her for being honest, hard working, loving, and her listening abilities were unmatched. Oh to be like her… Miss you gram.


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