My only sister is and always has been my best friend. She lives near D.C. and is one of the most fascinating people I have ever known. She was a prodigy pianist and at the age of 71 still concertizes in the Washington area. She is an accomplished seamtress of the coutourier tradition, a tapestry sewer, a gourmet cook and wine collector(that MY influence). Her husband, being a former director of World Bank has given both of them the opportunity to travel the world over. She converted to Judaism after they met 50 yrs ago in a shipboard romance. She has raised 3 sons and is lots of fun and I would be miserable if anything ever happened to her. She has survived breast cancer, treked the Himalayas, had adventures most of us couldn’t even imagine, but she is as giving and humble as anyone you would ever want to meet. Thank you, Sue, for always being there.

When I was a child, I remember crawling up on this lady’s lap and hugging for all I was worth. She had short curly hair and the clean smell of soap. She would always hug me and pat my hair and rock her body while I was lying in her lap. She was a jokester and a comedian. I wish you could have seen her when she played the ukulele and danced the jig. And when my gramps had barn dances, she stood beside him while he played his fiddle, all the while, playing her ukulele. As the years passed, she became ill and couldn’t do much of anything but she could still hug and pat my hair and kiss my head as I sat beside her on her bed. And the smile never left her face until the day she died. She never complained either, but I know she was sad because she couldn’t get up and play the ukulele and dance her jig. This grand lady was my mama. I was but age 12 when she had to say goodbye. But I still remember her smell and can sometimes still feel her arms around me, especially when I sit in her rocker. I now visit her place in the grove of trees. What peace she must enjoy being among the flowers and the trees. She loved the flowers and the butterflies in their glory. When I visit her, I can sit on the grass and admire her nameplate upon her door to heaven. I miss her. She was special. And I will see her again. Peace and Goodwill mama, I love you…..doll

They have been gone a long time now. I still miss them. My two aunts, they lived together and made magic outfits , mostly by hand. They were well known in Belgium for their haute couture. I would often stay with them and was shown unconditional love. There was discipline here but always shown with love. I did not get that in any other place. I loved to see the mannequin take on a new sleeve, bodice and finally get ready for the first fitting. A chauffeur would deliver the ladies from Brussels at their door and I would peak in the key hole to see who the owner would be of that dress. The “salon” had the loveliest of upholstered chairs and bergeres , the screen was embroidered with gorgeous flowers. Fresh flowers always were to be found in the whole house. These women knew how to live. It was a sharp contrast to the bare wooden chairs in my house and my mom in her cotton dress. Yet , as much as I loved the luxury it was truly the love I received from these two ladies which made my life complete.

Mary Wells, your post brought tears to my eyes. I am a Mother who has educated herself, accomplished my goals and experienced my dreams with no outside help. My Daughter however wants a Mother with no definable character or intelligence, who strives to be mediocre, and probably has a closet of beige clothes. How wonderful it would be to have a daughter appreciate, or even respect, my creativity, resourcefulness, and intelligence.

I have written about my Father here many times…so I will say my Grandmother, his Mother. She, along with our housekeeper/cook helped my Father raise me. I was never allowed to call her any “Grandma” names…I called her by her first name. When I asked her why I couldn’t call her “Granny” etc. she said “Because thats not my name…I call you by your name, not “Granddaughter”. She was born in 1898…considered an “old maid” when her fire and brimstone baptist preacher Father “married her off” to a well to do neighbor 18 years her senior in 1921. They had 2 sons, moved to California from Oklahoma in 1940 and bought their first ranch. She picked cotton, cut grapes, tied grape vines, right along side the men, usually out working them. She never let the sun touch her face, wearing an old “slat sided” bonnet to the vineyards and orchards, always with a long sleeved men’s flannel shirt on. When she was 90, she looked 60. She out lived 3 Doctors. She ate bacon, biscuits and 2 eggs fried, floating in bacon grease every morning of her life. She played house with me, sat through more tea parties than I can count, and told anyone who would listen that I had a “special gift” because I could read at age 4. I didn’t know until she passed at 94 that she could read…but because her upbringing stressed that education was wasted on girls…never learned to write. She could sign her name. Only then did I realize why it was always someone else’s job to “set down” the grocery list while she wandered the massive kitchen, opening doors and drawers and telling us what we needed. She had traveled by covered wagon, saw the first automobile, airplane, men walking on the moon…and the thing that amazed her the most…the microwave oven! She never used it…she didn’t understand why people had to have food in such a hurry! She was my touchstone, my dearest friend, kept all of my secrets. I still miss her every day.

My sister-in-law - my husband’s sister. She was 14 when I married her big brother, and she is the little sister I never had. We were there for her, through their parents messy divorce when she was 16, when she had her first child and her boyfriend walked out on her at 23, and when she finally found her mate at married at 29. She was there for us when our son was diagnosed with BP, when our town burnt down in the horrible 2003 California wildfires. We are sisters, and we adore each other.

I sort of grew up in a vacuum. Sounds odd but I can’t really didn’t have any exposure to extended family at all. Not until I grew up when a sister I didn’t know I had found me and I married a man with a close irish family. So these days I have two favorite relatives (not counting my bio and step kids who are my favorite people to hang out with) my brother in law and the sister who found me. who is sitting on my couch drinking coffee right now. Having traveled 1200 miles to visit me for a week! My brother in law and I just have a bond. one of those connections that’s hard to define. He’s nuts. diagnostically nuts. But I love him. And my sister found me and loved me without question or inhibition. I’d never experienced that before. It took me awhile to let her “in” but she was so pure in her love and her belief that I had no choice. Now i’m so glad that I did.

My paternal grandma Anne helped to raise me, as my mother was a teenage mother. When I wanted to finish my college degree but had a three month old baby, Grandma insisted on coming back to college with me at age 80 to be the nursemaid, chief cook and housekeeper. My father drove 800 miles to drop us off in Utah: 4 generations and a truck load of baby gear. We finished the semester that allowed me to get my degree. Grandma lived to be 97, in very good health, and died in her sleep, the day after she had been to the hair dresser, and grocery store.