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Poem
Both of my grandpas died
long before I was born
and one grandma and I never met.
My daddy’s mama
lived so far away
I knew her by the letters I’d get.

My other grandma lived
quite nearby in town,
not so very far from our farm.
I saw her quite often,
sometimes stayed over night
to avoid going home in a storm.

She was barely five-foot
and her shoulders were bowed,
for she’d had to toil all her life.
My grandma was widowed 
when Mama was small.
She’d had little time as a wife.

She took in washing 
to care for her brood.
My mama was one out of five.
Her work was so hard
and the payment was small,
enough just to keep them alive.

There was no help for widows
in those days long ago.
The burden was Grandma’s alone.
In all of the time
that I knew my grandma
I never had once heard her moan.

She never complained 
that she’d had a bad rap,
lived contentedly in her small house.
No pension for her
and no SS check
her money would not feed a mouse. 

My daddy brought eggs,
milk, meat and cream,
whatever he could from the farm.
She raised her potatoes 
and her  fresh vegetables.
Hard work could not do her harm.

I never did know 
how she paid her small rent
or for other things that she needed.
Too young at the time,
I didn’t think about that.
If I knew then, my mind has deleted.

I remember her meals
always biscuits and jelly
and a big slice of Daddy’s smoked ham.
She helped my big brothers
keep secrets from Mom.
She was there if they got in a jam.

She was honest as day,
no one would she cheat,
and only a fool would dare cheat her.
My grandma had learned 
her hard lessons from life
and life had been a harsh teacher.

An atypical grandma,
she suited me well.
You won’t find her kind everywhere.
Not much on kissing  
or rocking was she,
But if needed you knew she'd be there.



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