My oldest grandson did not get to meet my mom, his great-grandma. I wish he could have. She was a neat lady, determined to do what she set out to do, and full of love for others. I wish he could have met her.
Your great grandson is only four but he's heard the songs from the forties. "Abba Dabba Honeymoon," "Me and My Shadow," "Playmate, Come Out and Play With Me," "Teddy Bear's Picnic," songs you sang to Gayle and me when she was three and I was four and more. Maybe someday he'll get to meet Mrs. Doodenlopper. She used to come take care of Gayle and me. She looked like you. We said, "You're our mother!" She always replied, "Oh no, she's at the store. She'll be home soon." Then we would have tea and giggle when Gayle was five and I was six and more. He'll never get to see the doll furniture you made for Gayle and me from orange crates with a hammer, nails, and your butcher knife when you were pregnant with our brother. They made a dandy kitchen with empty thread spools for knobs. We wore them out playing house when Gayle was six and I was seven and more. Darlene Estlow©March, 2004