Grams. Grammy. Go-Go. Granny. Grandma. Bubby.
Whatever you want to call her. She rocks. She inspires. She motivates.
She’s travelled the world and back. I think her last inter-continental trip was about three years ago, age 91, when she traversed the Atlantic in pursuit of a trip to the Canary Islands with my European relatives.
During her prime, and I was alive, I had a hard time keeping up. (Her prime probably lasted approximately seventy years, have you.) Her energy – infectious. Her love of life, literature, nature, food and martini’s … She’s never shied from a challenge. She always get’s out in front of it. She taught me to enjoy the finer things, but to work hard to earn them. She tells me never to give up.
She climbed Mount Kilimanjaro with my Grandfather in the 1960’s. They rented a car and spent six weeks driving around all the parts of Eastern Africa that would have them. Seriously. Ballsy, right? Adventurous, yes? Stupid, maybe? But, they did it because together they lived an adventure. I could write another book about that.
Her house is a library. Filled with books. Walls and walls lined with full bookshelves. She’s read them all. Believe it. Every time I come to visit, she gives me another book to read.
When I shared my roughest of rough drafts of my book with Grandma during my residency years, she enrolled in a Writers Conference in my hometown and brought the draft to receive critique. She knew I didn’t have time go, so she went on my behalf and took lots of notes.
My beautiful, amazing, inspiring and wonderful Grandma. She is 94 on June 18th. I am so proud and privileged to have you in my life.