Man I loved her. If there are any good features in me, they came from her. My Grandma
helped my working Mother raise me. I cant recall a second of my childhood when I didn't
want to be with her. The whole neighborhood loved her. The grocery store manager would help carry her groceries home. Her budget was tight and she paid many plumbers with
cookies and juice. Her name was Julia, and the neighbors took care of her. Her flowers
were the envy of he neighborhood. If I brought a friend over, you had to eat. Not to eat
would have been an insult. She was born in Norway ,and I remember eating Ratfisk, Lutefish,and syltelaarb.
Grandma gave everyone a dollar for Christmas. Over the years I grew to treasure my dollar from Grandma. She had little money,, and lots of people got a dollar from her.

My first Christmas in Vietnam made tears swell up when I opened up a Christmas card
from Grandma with a dollar inside.I never spent it.

Years passed, and I moved almost 200 miles from her. Every Christmas Eve, I would
drive down to see her. I still remember walking up the steps to her house,ringing her doorbell and,here would come running my five foot tall Grandma,A five foot tall lady
hugging her 6 foot 3inch Grandson.

I remember one 90 degree day when Grandma was in her Garden doing something on her knees, The pastor stopped by and asked,"Julia How do do this?" Grandma looked at him like he was the dumbest man on the face of the earth. She points to the shovel and said 'You put one foot on the shovel,push down, get dirt." I wispered "honey,he is talking about the heat. She looked at me puzzled and asked "what does heat have to do
with antthing?" I started to try and explain and gave up. The pastor laughed.

Christmas Eve is tough for me now. I miss her hugs,her love, hell, I miss her.
Everyone should have one "grandma" in their life. You will never know true naked
Love unless you do.

Merry Christmas Grandma.
Your "cookie boy"



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