My Grandma Honey

I was thinking about all the people that I have crossed paths with over the years. Some people, like my grandparents and Aunt and Uncle, were very special. They taught me so much, and made me feel loved and cared about.

When you’re young, you take for granted that people will always be there. Then sadly, one day you wake up and they are gone.

My Grandma Honey was sort of the one who held the family together. She insisted we all gather at Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter and the 4th of July.

And we all came. Not because we HAD to, but because we wanted to!

Grandma Honey, whose real name was Mary Frances Daniel Prussman, was just a plain nice woman. She loved us all, and although she didn’t say it very ofter, she showed us in so many ways.

Tea time was one of those ways. We all got linen napkins, china tea cups, and usually a few cookies. On a special day, Grandma would a make treat. Cookies, brownies, or lemon squares.

I don’t recall her wearing pants until she was well into her sixties, and then she wore dress up pant suits. The pant suits were a modesty thing. At 65 she had trouble crossing her legs, so it was pant suits to the rescue.

The loved long haired cats, and Boxers, but in later years she opted for mixed mutts. Teddy was a cockapooh, and he was the bane of Papa’s existence! Teddy had terrible allergies and just scratched and scratched and scratched. But since Mary wanted it, he put up with it!

Grandma kept a tight control over her money. Back then telephone calls were very expensive. Grandma kept a 3 minute egg timer next to the phone. She told me once that if you couldn’t say it in 3 minutes then you should write a letter! She did that too.

When I was really young, I would run through the woods to her house and stay there to escape from things at home. Later, I was lucky to live with her and Papa.

She loved to hear me sing, and we loved to sit with our heads together talking. I remember one time I visited her after I got married and we were having tea and talking. She was smiling broadly and I asked what she was smiling about?

“I have missed you talking, and telling me all about your days.” I didn’t realize, but I had missed her too.

It’s been 28 years since she died, and I still miss her, but I like to think of her waiting for me, having a few cookies and sipping her tea.