We'll miss you Grandma Fanny
She figured getting run over by a Cadillac wasn't such a bad way to go, she confided in me once walking through the parking lot after synagogue on Rosh Hashanah. "Grandma," I gasped, "that's horrible!"
"Well," she said, "at least its quick."
This is a lady who kept a signed photo of Barak Obama with all the pictures of her lily-white grandkids. "That's my senator," she said, (even though she lived in Maryland.) She loved his book and sent him mash notes, his office sent her a nice signed photo.
She was the most photogenic member of our family. Even in my wedding pictures, Grandma is dazzling.
She watched "Meet the Press" and all the Washington Political junkie shows. On listening to Scott McClellan testify before Congress, "It's almost as good as the Iran-Contra affair with Oliver North!"
She loved biographies of famous people: Thomas Edison, Charles Lindbergh, Katherine Hepburn, Barbara Walters. On David Halberstam, "Batsheva, I lived through the '50's. I was there."
She was a lifelong contributor to Planned Parenthood, telling me stories about the bad old days of back alley abortions.
Her sewing machine was an electrified model set on top on her mother's old Singer cast iron treadle sewing machine table. My aunt would sneak over with a basketful of mending to get Grandma to fix her hems.
She loved to talk shop about her afghans. I loved to take her yarn shopping.
She taught me to make knedlach (matzah balls). Sometimes mine come out fluffy, but mostly they come out like rocks.
She liked to have pockets on all her blouses and housedresses. If an item didn't have pockets, she'd just sew some on.
Coffee, tea, and chicken soup must be served hot (if it doesn't scald you, it's not hot enough.)
She realized she couldn't pack her powdered milk (which she liked to stir into her coffee so it wouldn't get cold) in her totebag when she came to visit Kansas, because the dog would find it and eat it.
She loved cashmere sweaters.
She was amazing with pressure cookers.
She loved animals. (She would save the chicken meat bits from her chicken soup and would fit it lovingly to the dogs.) The dogs loved her back.
She loved anything with Italians, especially gangster movies (the bloodier, the better.) "You know I grew up Italiano." She had great mafia stories growing up in her father's candy store.
She used to love any film by Spike Lee, until she met Spike Lee once in Brooklyn, ("Mr. Lee, I love your movies!") and he snubbed her.
She was the only person I knew that could program her VCR. "I like to tape Charlie Rose," she explained.
She was 91 years old. She didn't go out via Cadillac, but she didn't suffer either.
Grandma, I'll miss you so much. I love you.
"Well," she said, "at least its quick."
This is a lady who kept a signed photo of Barak Obama with all the pictures of her lily-white grandkids. "That's my senator," she said, (even though she lived in Maryland.) She loved his book and sent him mash notes, his office sent her a nice signed photo.
She was the most photogenic member of our family. Even in my wedding pictures, Grandma is dazzling.
She watched "Meet the Press" and all the Washington Political junkie shows. On listening to Scott McClellan testify before Congress, "It's almost as good as the Iran-Contra affair with Oliver North!"
She loved biographies of famous people: Thomas Edison, Charles Lindbergh, Katherine Hepburn, Barbara Walters. On David Halberstam, "Batsheva, I lived through the '50's. I was there."
She was a lifelong contributor to Planned Parenthood, telling me stories about the bad old days of back alley abortions.
Her sewing machine was an electrified model set on top on her mother's old Singer cast iron treadle sewing machine table. My aunt would sneak over with a basketful of mending to get Grandma to fix her hems.
She loved to talk shop about her afghans. I loved to take her yarn shopping.
She taught me to make knedlach (matzah balls). Sometimes mine come out fluffy, but mostly they come out like rocks.
She liked to have pockets on all her blouses and housedresses. If an item didn't have pockets, she'd just sew some on.
Coffee, tea, and chicken soup must be served hot (if it doesn't scald you, it's not hot enough.)
She realized she couldn't pack her powdered milk (which she liked to stir into her coffee so it wouldn't get cold) in her totebag when she came to visit Kansas, because the dog would find it and eat it.
She loved cashmere sweaters.
She was amazing with pressure cookers.
She loved animals. (She would save the chicken meat bits from her chicken soup and would fit it lovingly to the dogs.) The dogs loved her back.
She loved anything with Italians, especially gangster movies (the bloodier, the better.) "You know I grew up Italiano." She had great mafia stories growing up in her father's candy store.
She used to love any film by Spike Lee, until she met Spike Lee once in Brooklyn, ("Mr. Lee, I love your movies!") and he snubbed her.
She was the only person I knew that could program her VCR. "I like to tape Charlie Rose," she explained.
She was 91 years old. She didn't go out via Cadillac, but she didn't suffer either.
Grandma, I'll miss you so much. I love you.