Once upon a time there lived a little old farm lady who dressed in purple, cursed at her computer, and rarely refused a Klondike bar. Not really so little or so old, she was a grandmother many times over.
If an apple pie set cooling on her windowsill, a volunteer had baked it. If a rocking chair decorated a corner of the farm, there was no little old lady knitting there. Not really grandmotherly, she preferred cooking up ideas and knotting monkey fists from the cab of a front loader (which she’d have used to heave the creaky rocking chair out of her way).
One day, the grandmother-farm-lady who dressed in purple cursed at the grandchildren’s parents for not writing to her. True, the not really grandmotherly farm lady didn’t dole out kisses and cookies and boo-boo band-aids like other grandmothers.
Instead, Carlene replaced immobility with mobility, fear-of-falling with confident strides, canes with Danes. The little old farm lady from the Service Dog Project was big enough and young enough at heart to give gifts that changed people’s lives and restored their independence.
Like most grandmothers, the farm lady didn’t expect much in return: Treat the gifts well and write to her now and then. That’s right: to her. In a letter. In an email. And include pictures. Little old farm ladies love to look at pictures while enjoying their daily ice cream.
“You do not really understand something unless you can
explain it to your grandmother.” – Proverb