Whatcha Gonna Name the Baby?

What is it? This Grandma Thing? I’d heard other women talk about how amazing it was to be a grandmother, and, when they talked about their grandchildren, they seemed completely, almost embarrassingly, smitten. I really didn’t think that would happen to me — until it did. But, how? Why? For one thing, grandmahood is the ultimate do-over. Even the best parents are only operating by trial and error, and the errors, unfortunately, have really loud voices. By the time we’re grandparents, however, we’ve garnered a bit of wisdom and perhaps some confidence as well. We see that, despite our many flaws and failures, we’ve managed to raise law-abiding citizens who

Marines in dress uniform lead the parade Senior citizens seek shelter in the shade Scouts march in step along with high school bands City officials greet the public in the reviewing stands. Just across the way among the flag-waving public stage Stands an old veteran, stooped and bearing the burden of age Suddenly he stands erect, his right hand raised in salute As Old Glory passes, he offers his valiant tribute. His left hand whisks away a tear from his eye as he recalls those to whom he never said “Goodbye.” From Flanders Field where the poppies grow To Arlington, its pristine white crosses row upon row From the flag

Fear of the unknown can be quite the compelling catalyst. It is easy to put a feeling on the top shelf, pushed as far back as it can go, in that out-of-the-way closet that is never opened. When it does arise, you quickly avert recognition of said feeling and wait for it to pass from your field of view. This is what the thought of holding a firearm was like for me. I was never really exposed to firearms growing up. My father hunted dove with his shotgun when I was younger. Until I moved out to go to college, the shotgun stayed zipped up in a bag, standing upright

The perfect dress was waiting for me in a small boutique in Aiken. Caroline’s should have been the first place I looked, but I live in Charleston. I spent an entire afternoon perusing all the shops on King Street with a friend. Nothing fit. If it did fit, it did not look right for my age or shape. Women in their mid-fifties want to be stylish and classy, which should not be difficult when one is a perfect 10. That is, size 10, so yes, I am curvy with an emphasis on hips. I was looking for a dress to wear for my daughter’s wedding rehearsal and dinner in March.