Grandma Barbara, some long-ago summerWhen I was a little girl and living in the Pacific Northwest, my family would make summer excursions to the Oregon coast to spend time with my Mother's sisters and my maternal grandmother, Barbara. My mom is one of four girls and all four sisters' first children were daughters. A few sons came along later, but in my memories, these early trips have a very feminine cast. It was a time where, rather than being the only girl in the all-male tribe of my father's family, I was one in troupe, where the girls flew kites and played whiffleball, occasionally & accidentally hitting each other in the nose with the bat on an aggressive swing.
All of these adventures were overseen by the beautiful Barbara, a woman who would hand-craft matching outfits for all of the grandchildren at Christmastime, who kept a well-stocked candy box 'for good little girls and boys', and who would indulge our cravings for not so appetizing snacks such as pickles with whipped cream. She spoiled all of her grandchildren and forgave us when we skipped the outdoor shower to run, feet covered in sand, through the rented beach cottage to grab a popsicle before heading right back out. As this summer approaches, I can't help but think of happy memories of summers in the past.
