A year ago Christmas I wrote to Grandma Pat to thank her for a beautiful creamy tangerine shawl she had sent to me, along with a matching pair of earrings and a diamond and gold bracelet. As I wrote, I began to thank her for the many other gifts and memories she had given to me over the years. I thanked her for the beautifully illustrated books of Grimm Brothers Fairy Tales she gave us grandchildren that I loved, the little silk beaded purses from Paris with matching white silk gloves, the beautiful deep-pumpkin suede skirt, jacket, and purse she hand-sewed and tailored to my exact fitting, the hairpiece called a "fall"–so fashionable in the late sixties/early seventies–for my sixteenth birthday, which, of course, she had exactly matched to my haircolor. I thought the list was long then and that I had covered quite a bit thanking her for hairstyles, make-up tips and for always decribing to me in her very conversational letters what she and others wore to events she attended. I told her I LOVED that! I hope I thanked her for my Neches River Festival "coming out". I was such a beauty then that I know I made her very proud. And she adored having a real doll to dress and curl and show-off. I have the memories and the music box. I hope I thanked her for the beautiful Christmas stocking she made for me. I hope I thanked her for the hundreds of sweaty, summer vacation croquet games in the backyard with my 3 brothers and sister and Poppop. For the trip to the brand new Astrodome, for the extravagant and grandiose dinner she would prepare for her family in honor of our vacation visit. (I remember the green baby-eel dip, in particular.) She had the busiest hands and if she did all of this for me what must she have done for the thousands of other people she knew and loved in her lifetime? She had movie star beauty and poise and heaven's starlight in her loving and generous and kind and giving heart. She was a symphony of goodness and greatness and a gift to our family. I love her. I love her.