Wednesday was my birthday - age 56 - old enough to groan, not old enough for good perks, yet.
But I dug around and found this photo - I'm the baldy on the left. My cousin Mark (four days younger) is on the right. We were eleven months old and propped with Great Grandmother Farrell.
That's all I know. Can't tell you her first name. She's eighty or so here - but back in the day everyone had that Grapes of Wrath look. They were ancient even at sixty. I have no doubt she always had an apron handy and could whip up a meal for three or thirty.
Stoic, plain speaking. I bet she was kind, but didn't put up with nonsense.
I should have listened better, but I don't remember many stories from my mother about her grandmother. My mom's gone now. But the photo lives on.
Joanne Faries, originally from the Philadelphia area, lives in Texas with her husband Ray. She considers herself fortunate to be able to pursue a writing career after eons in the business world. Joanne enjoys reading and movies, and is the film critic for the Little Paper of San Saba.