Grandma Says..

Observations and views from a different set of eyes

The Wacky Walk


I decided to add a little excitement to my morning walk this A.M.  Since it was Wordless Wednesday, I came up with the hair brained idea of taking a picture of the sun coming up over the lake at the end of our street!  Wow, I thought, those pictures will be sure to knock my friend Bastet’s socks off!

I donned my walking shorts, a thin tee-shirt, my new, pristine white Dr. Scholl’s sneakers and jammed a baseball cap over the Wally World haircut I got the other day that now makes me look like Bozo the clown.  Grabbing my water bottle and my cheap digital camera, I headed out the door.  I had a plan!

The one and one-half mile walk I take each day consists of circling the same block three times (I fear getting lost among the streets in my development…they all look the same and one gets easily confused.)  Each complete circle around the block takes fifteen minutes (the turtles make it in ten…but whatever!) and I wanted to capture the sunrise in stages so I felt that one shot each time I reached the lake would do the trick!  Round one I walked to the mound that surrounds the lake and raised the camera to take the first shot.

I forgot about the heavy rainfall the evening before and wound up slipping down the wet, slimy mound and succeeded in getting my legs covered in lake slime.   I did remember that there are snakes and gators in the lake so I crawled back up the mound on my hands and knees, took the picture and resumed walking with mud covered legs.  I passed two neighbors who usually greet me with a “Good Morning” and became confused when they just waved a weak hello.

I reach the lake once again and prepare to take the second shot.  I raise the camera and step up to take the perfect shot.  My now not so pristine white Dr. Scholls disappear into a hole in the mound and I once again wind up flat on my butt.  Wincing in pain from an ankle that doesn’t appreciate being turned in new directions, I pulled myself up again and took the second shot.

I was beginning to doubt the wisdom of straying from my normal path to take these damn pictures.  But, I am a Warrior, I told myself!  I limped off to finish my walk with mud crusted legs, a grass-covered behind and a hope that I would live to take the last shot.   Two more residents of my neighborhood approached and turned their heads as they passed me…probably because I now resembled a manic clown returning from a mud wrestling competition.  The last fifteen minutes of my walk to the lake was actually more of a walk..limp..walk regimen but I did make it to the lake.

This time, I scanned the terrain for possible traps that would cause me further bodily harm.  I took the last shot and headed home, mission accomplished and only a bit worse for wear.  Okay, I was scraped, dirty and crawled the last few feet up our driveway, but I did make it home alive!

After showering off the mud and slime, I limped to my laptop and posted the pictures on my sister site “A Dream Come True” so if you want, you can click on Mrs. Gulch to the right of this post and take a peek or you can see them by clicking here.  I hope that since I risked life and limb taking these pictures, that Bastet is happy and that you enjoy them.  I do think that it’ll be awhile before I repeat this wacky walk!

I have to go now and put an ice pack on my ankle.




The Day My Heart Stopped


I’ll never forget that day.  It was snowing, I was driving my 1952 Nash Rambler and I was heading home with my car filled with groceries and my two sons.  I wasn’t worried about driving in the snow, my Rambler was built like a tank and handled great in bad weather.  I loved that car.  I had bought it for $100.00 from a little old woman who really did drive it only to church and back for 25 years.  It looked like the cars used in old “Gangster” movies, sporting a “bubble top” and running boards.  Think Bonnie and Clyde’s ride and you’ve got a pretty good idea of what it looked like!

My 8-year-old was busy in the back of the car, going through the paper sacks, looking for his favorite cookies while my 4-year-old was next to me in the passenger seat, happily jumping up and down in an effort to drive his mother up a wall.  I was turning a corner and started to reach for my rambunctious little man to settle him down.  He was standing on the seat and took one last jump; he hit the door handle with his butt, and as I watched in disbelief, he flew out of the car.

I remember screaming.  I remember pulling the car over to the side of the road and turning off the ignition.  I remember thinking that I couldn’t just jump out with the car running since I still had a son in the back of the car.  I remember someone beeping and pointing in the direction behind me.  My heart stopped, I couldn’t breath, and I couldn’t look back.  Fear had me frozen to my seat.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was actually a few seconds, my heart started beating again. I drew a breath; I  jumped out of my car and start running towards my son who was lying in the road inches away from the wheels of the car that had turned behind me.  I fell to my knees when he sat up, then wobbled to his feet and starting running towards me, sobbing.  I scooped him up and examined him from head to toe with shaking hands and a rapid heartbeat.

He escaped with some scratches, which came from sliding against the running boards of the car, and no other injuries.  The driver of the car that almost hit him looked like he was going to have his own cardiac episode, and I quickly let him know that my son would be fine.  I carried my son back to the car, putting him in the back seat while I had my other son climb into the front one.  Shaking, I started the car and headed for home, while grateful tears filled my eyes.

Now, I believe that there were three major reasons my son was saved from the claws of death.  First, he wore a thick snowsuit which provided padding that softened the blow of landing on the road.  Second, the running boards on the Nash slowed his descent and prevented him from rolling directly into the path of the car in back of me.  And, last but not least, the driver of the other car had good reflexes and was able to stop in time to keep from running over my son.  If all these factors had not come into play, I believe the outcome would have been devastating.

After arriving home and getting my sons and the groceries into the house, I sat on the couch and held my sons.  I held them for a very, very long time as I stared out the window at my Nash Rambler and blessed those running boards.

Authors Note:  This episode happened in the early 70’s, before seat belts, child proof door locks and reliable car seats for children.  Thank goodness, this would not happen to a parent these days; at least I hope not.


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