The first thing I can remember is being at my mom’s parents’ house. When you walk in the front door there is a staircase right in front of you. To the left of the staircase the room opens up into a galley style bottom floor kitchen, with the sink, dishwasher and cupboards lining the right side, and kitchen
table on the left side.
I was mesmerized by Grandma Doris’ dishwasher. There was something mysterious and curious about the inside and I was determined to find out what it was. Grandma Doris was washing dishes and she didn't appreciate my quest. After lifting me off the dishwasher door several times she finally scolded me. I was hurt that she didn't enjoy my tendency for exploration and decided to explore outside.
It was a warm day and the sliding glass door as the end of the kitchen were left open. Away I crawled and felt the cool grass under my hands and knees. How soft and inviting it was! I played with the grass running my fingers in and out of the blades. I sat up, and discovered a pinky flowering bush further back in the yard. Later I learned it was a hydrangea. Rather than enjoy the beauty of these poms made from tiny flowers, in my infant anger I set out to have my revenge and destroy them. I had plucked three bunches when Grandma Doris came to get me. She wasn't upset about the flowers; she didn't notice, scooped me up and brought me back inside.
She has a pristine beehive and a tiny cinched waist in every picture I've seen of her. She appeared to be very prim and proper. Makeup and hair needed to be done, she was always presentable, and I've heard she was always on a diet. She was attractive and petite. Her Husband Grandpa Bruce died when I was 2 years old, 17 months before Grandma Doris. My Mom says she died of a broken heart. I would have liked to know her better, but I'm glad I have this memory of her and her home.