|Thanksgiving 1968, with "Grandma Lillie"|
My Mother’s Hands
By Judith Cullen
When I was a little girl, family members of various generations swore that I was the very image of my maternal Grandma. “That’s Lillie!” they would exclaim, and reference her 8th grade graduation picture as proof of the likeness.
My Grandma was someone who appeared to be very much in command of things. She was a strong personality who always seemed to be the key decision maker. My Grandpa, suffering significantly from the onset of lung cancer when I knew him, was much softer spoken. I remembered him best in his recliner, and from the polished rocks he tumbled in his workshop.