My father's mother was a large woman (especially to a young me) with steel grey hair and piercing blue eyes that saw everything. Every Christmas the entire family had to show up at that tiny house they lived in and you had to be quiet. If we little gals got a new wallet or purse, grandma passed it around the adults to put something in and it had not better be coins either. She also cooked lots of rhubarb which I still cannot eat to this very day. I also loved the beautiful rose gardens that my grandfather had. We used to joke and say it covered up the smell from the outhouse (yes, outhouse, as my grandparents did not have "indoor bathroom facilities"). Oh how I hated to have to go out there in the dead of winter or the heat of the summer... and the whole family had to visit on Sundays or suffer grandma's icy stare and Polish mouth... My cousin Janet and I love to remember those times... oh how we laugh but we remember. One thing we can't remember though is her every hugging or kissing us.

My mother's mom lived across the street from us and we saw them every day. I still remember how all her housework would be done by 1PM every day and then she would clean up into her "afternoon" dress and go and sit on her front porch and talk with the ladies of the neighborhood as they passed by on their way shopping or visiting. I still can't understand how with all our major appliances, we have so much stuff left undone today. LOL.... she even ironed my grandfather's socks when they came off the line... I never knew that my grandfather was a major janitor in a huge bank until after he retired. Every morning he left for NYC dressed in a suit, tie, etc and carried a briefcase (which I later learned was his lunch). I only learned the truth after seeing his picture on his retirement in the company magazine.
Sometimes my younger sister and I would have breakfast over there before we went to school. I especially felt for my younger sister as she took the brunt of things when PaPa died and NaNa was alone. Nancy went and stayed across the street every night and NaNa laid out her clothes for school the next day. Mom finally had to change the lock on our front door as we found out NaNa would come in while we were gone and get clothes for Nancy... NaNa was picky.
My Aunt tells me the greatest stories about her and Mom's childhood with my grandmother. I just can't imagine my sweet NaNa doing some of the things she tells me today.
Thanks for renewing some old and very dear memories for me. I could go on and on but won't. Hard time right now.