more biting on grandma, who is a pro

I got some serious writer’s block. it’ll pass, it always does.

in the meantime, I’m gonna share more of what my grandmother has written. I just said I wouldn’t, a few weeks ago, the last time I published something on this blog. and here I am, breaking the rule already.

breakin’ the law

but fuck it. this is great stuff. I wish I could write like this. I’m going out to visit family in Indiana this weekend, for a whole damn week. and I’m pretty psyched. I can’t wait. anyway:

How I Remember Papa
by Grandma

It always comes to my mind how life is so unpredictable and so insecure. One cannot plan. We have a plan and God has another.

It was a beautiful fall day in 1940. Papa and I took a stroll around our block. We did this a few times before. We just silently walked. We approached our big two-story brick house, extra 25-foot lot, all fenced in.

I can see Papa now; he looks up so admiringly at our home. Smiling he says, “Just think, in one year the house will be ours.” In a year the mortgage to the Federal Housing Administration will be paid off at last. It had survived the Depression. How, I wonder, were we able to hold onto our home while so many houses lost theirs? Papa was so happy at that moment.

We silently came home together. As usual, Papa had his cup of coffee and slice of rye bread and butter and went to bed. He was content and looking forward to the future.

But Papa never lived to see the house paid off. On December 12, 1940, Papa passed away, less than a year from seeing the home free of a government mortgage.

So it was like the saying goes: “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”

No, we cannot plan, but yes, we can dream.

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  1. Chuck Wepner on

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