When I was young, our family lived near my grandmother. On some evenings I spent the night with her at her very splendid apartment in a beautiful building on Connecticut Ave. in Washington, DC. My earliest memories of that apartment were the elevator operator, Calvin, taking my parents and me and up in the creaky elevator with the accordion door he would carefully open and close and the flowery, dusty and a bit dank smell of the apartment. My grandmother and I would have Ritz Crackers, “rat” cheese and apple slices for dinner. She would enjoy hers with a glass of sherry and I would have a small green glass bottle of Coca Cola. After dinner, I would watch her put her hair up in pin curls using bendy fabric covered strips. She was a force in my young life and I loved her. My mother never lived close to my family and still my children had a rich relationship with her. I am entering that wonderful world of grandmothers and am thinking of my mother and her mother. I will be far away from my first grandchild. I will visit often and finally learn about Skype and FaceTime.
Wondrous child: the joys and challenges of grandparenting edited by Lindy Hough; foreword by Jane Isay
Some assembly required: a journal of my son's first son by Anne Lamott; with Sam Lamott
Making toast: a family story by Roger Rosenblatt