My Dad’s mom, Clinton Wright Walker Person, went by the name Grandmother. She did not dream up some silly nickname, or ask to be called by her first name or let the children call her by a fumbled pronunciation. It was GRANDMOTHER. And she was one bad betch, one I hope to be like as I dance toward my golden years. This is what I loved about her, and what I intend to mimic: 1) She looked like a Grandmother. She wore cardigan sweaters with balls of tissue paper in her sleeve and cooked goulash when she came to visit. She got a permanent every so often and her only beauty product was a thick (THIIIIICCCKKKK) slathering of Ponds night cream. Grandmother smelled richly of talcum powder. She was beautiful and approachable in every way to me, and that’s the kind of Meemaw I plan to be one day. 2) She never, ever demanded an audience, she was fine to be quiet and intentional and present, which manifested as pure, unconditional love for us envelope-pushing grandkiddos. These qualities, too, are on my list. 3) She was quick to pray for you — and write letters. This was annoying sometimes, but I miss these things now. 4) She kept her life simple and non-glam and small town. Totally hip, I think. 5) When the time was right, she moved from her “big house” to a small two-bedroom condo in Goliad, Texas. When the time was even better, she happily packed up a few things and moved to an elder care community in San Antonio without any fanfare or disagreement whatsoever. And it was a gift having her so close, I remember it well. It’s bougie bad and thick to be Grandmotherly IMHO! Let’s make it cool again, let’s bring this geri-shizzle back. Grandmother should be the norm. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter on Grandmother in a book my Dad helped me assemble about all the amazing women in Marley’s family. #GrandPlans