On this date, my grandma died. Only I never called her Grandma, I called her Mayme.
She was one of a kind, especially for her day. When almost no women worked outside the home, she was the Assistant to the Sheriff for a big city. Yep, that was a full-time job, and she had a houseful of four kids she was bringing up on her own.
Working for the Sheriff's Office, she had plenty of occasion to meet prisoners. And now this is something I choose to do -- only I work with men in prisons as part of a writers' group. Mayme carried this interest a lot further than I intend to, as she ended up eventually marrying one of the men.
When I got my ears pierced, my mother tut-tutted. My dad said they made me look like a slut, but Mayme? She marched me down to the jewellery store and let me pick the nicest pair of gold posts in the shop.
So yes, even though she's long gone, I still love her dearly, and reckon I always will.
That would be her, over there on the right, looking down at me, the young bride. Er, no, that's not right; it's big time Communion Day.