Grandma Bush, It's the Memories

Eleven.

The number of years it has been since Grandma Bush died.
So much happens during that time.
It doesn't sound very long until you think of all that has happened in that time.

Ruth Linn Bush.

My great-grandmother, always prepared, full of unknown (to her) wittiness, and (I want to believe) a former flapper.

I have so many fond memories of her: attending a baseball game, visiting her apartment and watching Wheel of Fortune, hearing her say, while sitting in her chair, "I'm a republican!", watching The Lawrence Welk Show with her, watching baseball with her and eating Andes Mints and Oatmeal Creme Pies, watching old movies "with" her after she had been wired all night, and so many other things.

She called me "little Kirsten."

The story goes, she would say, "Don't ask me to go with you if you don't want me, because my bags are already packed."

I am privileged to have known her so well.

With her three oldest great-grandchildren
(Lto R) Elizabeth, Kirsten (me), Ginny