Granddaddy's Hearts

My grandparents moved in next door when I was five years old. Much to my mother's chagrin, I might add. Who wants her in-laws within rock-throwing distance? But I was in heaven. I was the only granddaughter for eleven years and Grandmomma doted on me. She handmade everything in my wardrobe...every dress I wore had lots of ruffles and bows and puffy sleeves. (That could be exactly why you'll never find me in a dress today!)

And what a perfect set up it was for a picky eater. Come suppertime, if I didn't like what Fern was serving at the family table, I'd wander down the path to Grandmomma's and check out what was cooking on her stove. Nine times out of ten, I'd like her selection better.

In my mother's defense, I can now understand why it was hard on her, but I couldn't understand at the time. In looking back, I remember a picture window suddenly appearing in my grandparents' kitchen. Not that it was a particularly good look for the kitchen, but it made it much easier for them to know what was going on at our house. As time went by, the path between the houses seemed to grow shorter. As they became elderly, they spent more time at our house and we spent more time at theirs.

Some of my favorite memories involve Sunday evenings on their big porch with my aunts, uncles, and cousins dropping by. I always looked most forward to my Aunt Rita showing up in her big car with a big bag of Dilly Bars from the Dairy Queen. I just couldn't believe that she and Uncle Ed had so much money they could afford to treat everybody to a Dilly Bar! Man...I wanted to be that rich when I grew up.

My Granddaddy was a much loved character. He always made us laugh and we could hear him sneeze from our house. He had an accident as a teenager that left him with a broken hip. One leg was much shorter than the other and left him in chronic pain. I never knew this until he was gone...all I knew was that he wore really funny looking shoes and walked with a terrible limp. He was a marble man who worked for The Vermont Marble Company in Dallas. He would spend hours in his garage making things like bookends and lamps with leftovers from the factory.

The picture above shows six little hearts I've had for years that he made. The interesting thing about these little works of art is that he used the end of a safety pin to fashion a jump ring so they could be worn on a chain. I've always loved these hearts and thought everybody in the family had an assortment of these. In talking with my cousin Sandy the other day, I've discovered they don't. So I'm offering these to my fellow Luther Girls...sister Joyce, and cousins Sandy, Tina, Diane, and Madeline. So let me hear from you girls...first come, first choice. They range in size from an inch to an inch and a half.

I think Granddaddy would be proud to know I'm sharing the fruits of his talent...here's to family memories of a simpler time!