There was something else about my grandmother that I adored.
She was a “fussy eater.” Her diet included about 10 foods. She ate a lot of Velveeta cheese, fried salami and eggs, and canned Chinese food.
I was also a “fussy eater.” I couldn’t stand to eat anything “slimy” or “sticky.” All I really liked was plain, dry food. I was squeamish and lots of times, when my parents demanded that I eat what was on my plate, there occurred a few kinds of disgusting scenes, not something I’d care to write about.
My grandmother made wonderful pies. However, when she made an apple pie or berry pie I wasn’t able to swallow the “slimy, wet” fruit. So my grandmother made something special just for me. She would keep aside small bits of pie crust, then spread them with only a touch of the fruit filling. Then she placed another small piece of dough on top. So I could enjoy her wonderful pie crust and not feel left out. These, she called “bupkes.” I was told that word meant “nothing.” She said she called them that because they were no trouble to make and it wasn’t a big deal. But it meant a lot to me!
My grandmother had a few names meant just for me and you would not believe how often I think about them. We also shared secret words and phrases and had private jokes. My husband has heard these so often that he could say them while asleep.
“Shanekeit” was her favorite word for me. I am told it is from Yiddish, meaning beautiful spirit. I named one of our cats that.
She also used to say: “I’d kill a pig for you, babe.”
Mainly we laughed a lot and thought a lot of things were funny. I have a photo somewhere that shows my grandmother, me, and my sister all laughing. Everybody should have a grandmother like I did; either a grandmother or somebody in the family who thinks you’re the greatest person in the world.
lgmwriting 
How lucky you are to have such adoring memories of your grandmother. I never had the opportunity to get to know either of my grandmothers very well. My mother’s mother died in Russia before my mother came to the US and my father’s mother lived in Butler with my aunt. And even though we visited there often I never really sat down and talked to her. Now that I think about it, it is very sad. What would I have learned from her? Oh well, I can only hope that my grandchildren will have adoring memories of my time with them.
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