That’s my grandma, Dovie. Isn’t she a damned knockout? Look at her, maintaining her perfect hair, excellent posture and beautiful smile while my terrible imp of a mother howls in her ear. Yesterday would have been Dovie’s birthday. In this photo, Dovie had just turned 26. FUN FACT: 26 is how old I am. If I was holding a shrieking infant, I would look like was holding a shrieking infant. But that’s Dovie. She was glamorous at all times.
I was too busy writing about filthy song lyrics yesterday (the opposite of glamor), and I forgot to give her a shout out. So here ’tis:
Happy Birthday, Dovie! I miss you, and the way you always wrote your “y’s” backwards, but only when you were doing the crossword.
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She was nice to me, Liz, and always made me feel welcome in her home.
Also, it is unlikely your mother was shrieking. She was probably laughing uncontrollably from your father’s antics as he took the picture.
A really nice and classy lady.