Flashback Friday...101 W. 181st

January 25 marks 27 years since Grandma Fern passed away.

She was the only Grandparent I ever knew as Mom's side had passed away before I was born and I was just two years old when Grandpa Vandercar died. 

I was a lucky kid, 'cause her house was a stone's throw from my front door.

101 W. 181st Street.

She was my constant companion while growing up.
If she ever tired of me running thru that white door, she never let it show.
She never refused my requests for snacks or sleepovers or marathon games of double solitaire or chinese checkers.
I can close my eyes and still see every nook and cranny of the little red house...from the mission style rocker to the chalk ware Chinese people on the tall dresser, to the pictures on the wall.

She was there.
Constant.
Every single day of my life.

But little kids grow up.
I can remember, in my teenage years, getting off the bus and walking by her door and thinking, I should stop in more.

I can only imagine how hard it was for her to see that little kid grow up and seem to need her less and less.

I wish I could go back to the 14 year old me and tell me how good this advice was.
I wish I could go back and sit and listen to EVERY WORD she said.
I wish I knew the questions I have now and I wish I would have asked them.
The questions about The Kenney Store, Grandpa Tilton's finger, Orchard Grove School, houses they lived in, recipes she knew by heart, Indians in the woods, Uncle Ralph's house, the house before Uncle Ralph's house, Christmas day weddings, gypsies at the door, heart stopping telegrams and on and on and on.
I wish I could ask her the questions I have about people by the name of Stella Wallace, Jeremiah, Aunt Tin, Tossie, Flossie, Persis, Hattie, Effie, Fay, Albert,...the endless list of people, places and things that only she would remember.
She would know all the answers.
All of them.

But alas the Poet/songwriter is right:
               "But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them."
                                                                                                                        Jim Croce

And 14 year olds don't ask, cause they don't know the right questions and they don't know then what they are gonna know later.
And answers fly away.

But there is one thing that has remained true.
Whether a child, teenager or adult....

I love my Grandma Fern.

I miss you too, Grandma.

Directions to here:
whether you are
4, 14, 24, 44, 64 or 94....share your questions, stories, memories and answers!