Ah, Grandma’s house. A place where kisses were mandatory, tea was properly steeped, and the freezer was always stocked with frozen treats. Since our TV at home only had one station if you balanced the bunny ears properly (I’m not complaining – I grew up outside!), my brother and I would stay in the adult room for the obligatory visiting time before asking for a Popsicle and scuttling away for the best kids shows the 90’s had to offer.
After my Grandfather died, I started spending more of those Sundays in the living room. I listened to more stories. I learned more about the people my grandparents were and the lives they lived. I got exposed to (and, more importantly, picked up on) more of my father’s humor which, as become clear on these Sundays in the living room, came from my Grandmother. She’d always