Remembering...

For the sake of Memorial Day....

Grandfather Cowan: I don't remember a whole lot about him. He died when I was really young. I remember the hospital bed in the front room. By the big window in the back of the living room. I remember singing "I am a Child of God" with all of the grandkids at his funeral. I remember thinking, when we sang the part about "rich blessings are in store", that it was like a can of Campell's soup...only Blessings soup. I think of him when I drive past farm land.

Grandpa Hurst: "Ride a cock horsey to Bambury Cross, to see a fine lady upon a fine horse. Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, she will hear music where ever she goes! YEE-HAH!!" He used to chant that rhyme while giving us a ride on his foot (crossed over his knee so it would swing) then, at the end he would boost us on to his lap and generally give us a good ol' whisker rub. I remember his garden. I remember his fun wooden toys he built. I remember his marigold garden. I celebrate him with a bowl of ice cream.

Grandma Hurst: She always had a bag of M&M's in her purse. They tasted like she smelled. So yummy. I wish I could go buy a bag of Grandma Hurst flavored M&M's. She saved all her costume jewelry for the girls to dress up in. There was always a yellow cake with chocolate frosting on her counter. I remember sleeping over with her after Grandpa died (mostly on the weekends so my older brother, Jared, could have a break). I did puzzles with her and played Solitare to pass the time. She was watching me play Solitare one time. I had no moves so I pulled a card from somewhere I shouldn't have...."I saw that", she said. I can't cheat at Solitare to this day. I celebrate her with a bucket of KFC.

Grandmother Cowan: She was VERY proper. Always called me "Michelle". Never answered to "Grandma". Only to "Grandmother". Frozen government cheese. Toast (home made bread) with honey so old it was black. Ice cream cones. She was a Depression baby...we saved tin foil and used baggies and made due with what we had. We used to dance around in her living room to an old church record. She pulled pans out of the a 350 degree oven...with NO hot pads. Bare handed. She used to recite "Little Black Sambo" to us. I wish I had a recording of her telling the story. I loved the voices she used. She used to walk in the back door to a room FULL of people and yell, "Is anybody home?" One time, we all yelled back "NO!" From then on it was "Is anybody happy?" I can't eat toast with honey with out remebering her.

That's the order in which they passed away. I miss them terribly as I type this. It's been a while since I remebered back to the things they did to make me smile.